After a week of the water famine she saw a change in her host. He was
more silent, thoughtful. Often when they rode together he had nothing
to say, staring at the horizon with narrowed eyes.

"Do you ever tell anybody your troubles?" she asked abruptly one
evening. They were riding slowly homeward, and the silence had been
especially marked.

"Not very often," Casey replied. "People I've met have usually had
enough of their own. They didn't want to hear mine."

"Well, I haven't many troubles, and I'd like to share yours, if I may.
I suppose it's this water question."

"Why, yes," he admitted. "It's getting to be a mighty hard thing to
swallow--and look pleasant."

"I know." She nodded sympathetically. "You feel helpless."

"Not that exactly. The difficulty is to know just what to do--whether
to do anything or not. The boys are very hostile. It wouldn't take much
to start them."

"In what direction?"

"In any that would give action. They'd like nothing better than open
war."

She exclaimed at the words. "Surely there's no possibility of that?"

"More than a possibility," he returned gravely. "Water is a necessity
to us. The people who have taken it do not require it. They have
established what is practically an armed camp. Also they have brought
in a number of hard citizens--what are known as 'gunmen'--to overawe
us. These patrol their ditch system, and warn us to keep away from it.
It is guarded at every important point. Not satisfied with this, some
of these fellows have been apparently looking for trouble in town and
elsewhere. One of these fine days they will get it."

He shook his head forebodingly. They topped a rise as he spoke. Below
them lay the line of the company's main canal. As they rode down to it
a man on a horse seemed to appear from nowhere in particular, and came
toward them. As he drew nearer Casey recognized the man Cross.

Cross raised his hat in acknowledgment of Clyde's presence. But his
words to Casey were very much to the point.

"You got notice to keep off this property," said he.

"Well?" said Casey.

"Do it," said Cross. "Hike--meanin' _you_, understand, and not the
lady. She's plumb welcome to ride where she likes. I savvy your game,
Dunne. You ain't got nerve enough to ride out here alone, and you bring
a woman with you to play safe."

Casey paled with anger beneath his tan. "Mr. Cross," he said quietly,
"that goes--because the lady is with me. But I rather think one