Dell fairly clung to the grasped hand.  “Pressnell’s foreman!” said he, recalling both man and incident.  “The cow has a roan calf.  Sit down.  Will you need a fresh horse to-day?  Do you like lettuce?”

“I reckon, Nat,” said the other foreman, an hour later, as the two mounted loaned horses, “I reckon your big talk goes up in smoke.  You’re not the only director in this cattle company.  Dell, ransack both our wagons to-day, and see if you can’t unearth some dainties for this sick lad.  No use looking in Straw’s commissary; he never has anything to eat; Injuns won’t go near his wagon.”

Straw spent a second night with the sick man.  On leaving in the morning, he took the feverish hand of the lad and said:  “Now, Jack, make yourself right at home.  These boys have been tried before, and they’re our people.  I’m leaving you a saddle and a horse, and when you get on your feet, take your own bearings.  You can always count on a job with me, and I’ll see that you draw wages until my outfit is relieved.  This fever will burn itself out in a week or ten days.  I’ll keep an eye over you until you are well.  S’long, Jack.”

The second week fell short only two herds of the previous one.  There were fully as many cattle passed, and under the heat of advancing summer the pools suffered a thirsty levy.  The resources of the ponds were a constant source of surprise, as an occasional heavy beef caved a foot into an old beaver warren, which poured its contents into the pools.  At the end of the first fortnight, after watering fifty-eight herds, nearly half the original quantity of water was still in reserve.

A third week passed.  There was a decided falling off in the arrival of herds, only twenty-two crossing the Beaver.  The water reserves suffered freely, more from the sun’s absorption than from cattle, until the supply became a matter of the most serious concern.  The pools would not have averaged a foot in depth, the flow from the springs was a mere trickle, the beaver burrows sounded empty to a horse’s footbeat, and there must be some limit to the amount the parched soil would yield.

The brothers found apt counsel in their guest.  By the end of the second week, the fever had run its course, and the sick man, Jack Sargent, was up and observant of the situation.  True to his calling, he felt for the cattle, and knew the importance of water on the Beaver to the passing drive.

“You must rest these beaver ponds,” said Jack, in meeting the emergency.  “Every time these pools lower an inch, it gives the sun an advantage.  It’s absorption that’s swallowing up the ponds.  You must deepen these pools, which will keep the water cooler.  Rest these ponds a few days, or only water late at night.  You have water for weeks yet, but don’t let the sun rob you.  These ponds are living springs compared to some of the water we used south of Red River.  Meet the herds on the divide, and pilot the early ones to the tanks below, and the late ones in here.  Shifting in your saddle rests a horse, and a little shifting will save your water.”