passed and not a trail man
appeared. "There's something wrong," said Joel, at the end of the second
week. "The Lovell herds go through, and there's sixteen of them on
the trail."

"They're water-bound," said Dell, jumping at a conclusion.

"Waterbound, your foot! The men and horses and cattle can all swim.
Don't you remember Mr. Quince telling about rafting his wagon across
swimming rivers? Waterbound, your grandmother! High water is nothing to
those trail men."

Dell was silenced. The middle of June came and the herds had not
appeared. The brothers were beginning to get uneasy for fear of bad
news, when near dark one evening a buckboard drove up. Its rumbling
approach hurried the boys outside the tent, when without a word of hail,
Quince Forrest sprang from the vehicle, grasped Dell, and the two rolled
over and over on the grass.

"I just wanted to roll him in the dirt to make him grow," explained
Forrest to an elderly man who accompanied him. "These are my boys. Look
at that red-headed rascal--fat as a calf with two mothers. Boys, shake
hands with Mr. Lovell."

The drover alighted and greeted the boys with fatherly kindness. He was
a frail man, of medium height, nearly sixty years of age, with an energy
that pulsed in every word and action. There was a careworn expression in
his face, while an intensity of purpose blazed from hungry, deep-set
eyes which swept every detail of the scene at a glance. That he was
worried to the point of exhaustion was evident the moment that
compliments were exchanged.

"Show me your water supply," said he to Joel; "old beaver ponds, if I am
correctly informed. We must move fifty thousand cattle from Dodge to the
Platte River within the next fortnight. One of the worst drouths in the
history of the trail confronts us, and if you can water my cattle
between the Prairie Dog and the Republican River, you can name your
own price."

"Let's drive around," said Forrest, stepping into the blackboard,
"before it gets too dark. Come on, boys, and show Mr. Lovell the water."

All four boarded the vehicle, the boys standing up behind the single
seat, and drove away. In a mile's meanderings of the creek were five
beaver ponds, over which in many places the willows interlapped. The
pools stood bank full, and after sounding them, the quartette turned
homeward, satisfied of the abundant water supply.

"There's water and to spare for the entire drive," said Forrest to his
employer. "It isn't t