night?"

"All over this arid country moisture rises at night and sinks by day,"
replied the trail boss. "Under drouth, these sandy rivers of the plain,
including the Platte and for a thousand miles to the south, only flow at
night. It's their protection against the sun's absorption. Mark these
pools at sunset and see if they don't rise an inch to-night. Try it
and see."

Willow roots were notched on the water-line of each beaver dam. The
extreme upper pool was still taking water from a sickly flow, a
struggling rivulet, fed by the springs at its head. Doubt was indulged
in and freely expressed.

"If the water only holds a week longer," ventured Dell, sleepless in his
blankets, "it'll double our holding of cattle."

"It'll hold a month," said Joel, equally sleepless. "We've got to stand
by these trail herds--there is no other water short of the Republican.
I've figured it all out. When the Beaver ponds are gone, we'll round up
the wintered cattle, drift them over to the south fork of the
Republican, and get some one to hold them until frost falls. Then we'll
ship the cripples up to Hackberry Grove, and that will free the new
tanks--water enough for twenty trail herds. We have the horses, and
these trail outfits will lend us any help we need. By shifting cattle
around, I can see a month's supply. And there may be something in water
rising at night. We'll know in the morning."

Sleep blotted out the night. Dawn revealed the fact that the trail
foreman knew the secrets of the plain. "That trail boss knew," shouted
Joel, rushing into the tent and awakening Dell. "The water rose in every
pool. The lower one gained an inch and the upper one gained two. The
creek is running freely. The water must be rising out of the ground. Let
those Texans bring on their herds. We have oceans of water!"

The cattle came. The first week thirty herds passed the new ranch. It
took riding. The dead-line was held, the flotsam cared for, and a hand
was ever ready to point a herd or nurse the drag end. Open house was
maintained. Every arriving foreman was tendered a horse, and left his
benediction on the Beaver.

The ranch proved a haven to man and beast. One of the first foremen to
arrive during the second week was Nat Straw. He drove up at sunset, with
a chuck-wagon, halted at the tent, and in his usual easy manner
inquired, "Where is the matron of this hospital?"

"Here she is," answered Dell, recognizing the man and surmising the
situa