that something would overtake him and prevent his return; many more
who felt their hearts sink as he rode by their doors with the fear that
each ride would be his last. Out there in the open some enemy might be
lying behind a clump of tangled briars. These women's prayers went with
the city marshal as he rode.

On a certain morning Morgan overtook Joe Lynch, driving toward town with
his customary load of bones. Morgan walked his horse beside Joe's wagon
to chat with him, finding always a charm of originality and rather more
than superficial thinking about the old fellow that was refreshing in
the intellectual stagnation of the town.

"Is that rain-crow feller still workin' over in town?" Joe inquired as
soon as greetings had passed.

"I suppose he is, I don't believe his seven days are up yet."

"This is his sixth, I'm keepin' notches on him. I thought maybe he'd
skinned out. Do you think he'll be able to fetch it?"

"I hope he can, but I've got my doubts, Joe."

"Yes, and I've got more than doubts. Science is all right, I reckon, as
fur as I ever heard, but no science ain't able to rake up clouds in the
sky like you'd rake up hay in a field and fetch on a rain. Even if they
did git the clouds together, how're they goin' to split 'em open and let
the rain out?"

"That would be something of a job," Morgan admitted.

"You've got to have lightnin' to bust 'em, and no science that ever was
can't make lightnin', I'm here to tell you, son. If some feller _did_
happen on how it was done, what do you reckon'd become of that man?"

"Why, they do make it, Joe--they make it right over at Ascalon, keep it
in jars under that table at the depot. Didn't you ever see it?"

"That ain't the same stuff," Joe said, with high disdain, almost
contempt. "Wire lightnin' and sky lightnin' ain't no more alike than
milk's like whisky. Well, say that science _did_ make up a batch of sky
lightnin'--but I ain't givin' in it can be done--how air they goin' to
git up to the clouds, how're they goin' to make it do the bustin' at the
right time?"

"That's more than I can tell you, Joe. It's too deep for me."

"Yes, or any other man. They'd let it go all at once and cause a
waterspout, that's about what they'd do, and between a waterspout and a
dry spell, give me the dry spell!"

"I never was in one, but I've seen 'em tearin' up the hills."

"Then you know what they air. It'd suit me right up to the han'le if
this feller could bring a ra