“They’ll break through if you’re not quick!  It’s my opinion they’re bent on getting down the well!”

George came to his assistance with his riding quirt, but when they were supplying the last two or three unsatisfied animals, a man ran out of the bluff.

“What in thunder are you doing with our water?” he cried.

“He looks angry,” Edgar commented.  “When that rancher fellow told us about the well, he didn’t mention the necessity of asking Mr. Baxter’s permission.”  Then he waved his hand to the stranger.

“Come here and have a talk!”

The man came on at a quicker run.  His face was hot with indignation, and on reaching them he broke into breathless and pointed expostulations.

“When you’re quite through, we’ll assess the damages,” George quietly told him.

The farmer’s anger began to dissipate.

“No,” he said; “that would be taking a pretty mean pull on you; but water’s scarce, and you can’t have any more.”

“Well,” requested George, “have you a paddock or corral you could let me put this bunch of cattle into until the morning?  I’m willing to pay for the accommodation.”

“I can’t do it,” replied the other.  “I want all the fenced grass I’ve got.  Take them right along, and you’ll strike a creek about six miles ahead.  Then you ought to make the river to-morrow night.”

It was obvious that he desired to be rid of them; and as it was getting cooler George resumed his journey.  He found the creek early the next morning, and as the day promised to be unusually hot he delayed only until he had watered the stock.  In an hour or two the sun was hidden by banks of leaden cloud, but the temperature did not fall and there was an oppressive heaviness in the air.  The prairie had faded to a sweep of lifeless gray, obscured above its verge.  The men made progress, however; and late in the afternoon a winding line of timber that marked the river’s course appeared ahead.  Shortly afterward, Edgar looked around.

“That’s a curious streak of haze in the distance,” he remarked.

“It’s smoke,” said George.  “Grass fires are not uncommon in hot weather.  It looks like a big one.”

They urged the cattle on a little faster, but it was evening when they reached the first of the trees.  George rode forward between them and pulled up his horse in some concern.  The ford had been difficult when they crossed it on the outward journey, but now the space between bank and bank was filled by an angry flood.  It rolled by furiously, lapping in frothy ripples upon the steep slope that led down to it.

“Nearly an extra three feet of water; there’d be a risk in crossing,” he said, when Edgar joined him.

“We couldn’t make the place where the trail runs in, and the landing down-stream from it looks bad.”

“Then what ought we to do?” Edgar inquired.

“Wait until to-morrow.  There’s no doubt been a heavy thunderstorm higher up, but the water should soon run down.”  George glanced back toward the prairie dubiously.  “I’m a little anxious about the fire; but, after all, it may not come near us.”