a quiet sea. Sufficient moisture from
the snow and early rain had been retained in the subsoil for vegetation.
But we needed water. With the hot weather the dams were going dry. There
had been increased demands for water this summer, and there had not been
the late torrential rains to fill the dams as there had been the year
before.

"What are we going to do?" I asked the other settlers.

"Haul water until we can get wells. We'll have to dig deeper. Perhaps we
have just not struck the water veins. After this we will follow the
draws."

Water-hauling again! But haul it from where? There was no supply in the
country sufficient for the needs of the region. Drills would cost money,
and few settlers had any money left. There was no sign of rain, and an
oppression weighed upon everyone as of impending evil--the fear of a
water famine.

First we had come to understand the primitive worship of fire. Now we
began to know that water is as vital to life as air itself. It takes
experience to bring home the meaning of familiar words.

In the meantime the tall waving crops brought land agents with their
buyers. At the first sign of water shortage more claims were offered for
sale, and by that time there were a few deeded tracts put on the market.
Loan agents camped at the settlement, following up settlers ready to
prove up. One could borrow more than a thousand dollars on a homestead
now.

The money coming through our hands on relinquishments, options,
government payments, etc., was mainly in bulk and growing beyond the
coffee cans and old shoes where we secreted money awaiting deposit at
the bank. We did need a bank on the Brule.

During the long hot summer weeks, when it did not grow dark on the open
plain until far into the night, a great deal of traveling was done at
night. It was easier for man and horse. On moonlight nights that white
light shining through the thin atmosphere made the prairie as light as
day, but ghostly; moonlight softened the contours of the plains and
robbed them of their color; sounds traveled great distances, seeming to
come from space; the howling of coyotes down the draw, the shrill, busy
sound of insects in the long grass, the stamping of the horses in the
barn, accentuated the stillness; they did not break it. Even the
prairie wind came softly, sweet with the scent of hay, not lifting its
voice on those hushed nights.

With the stillness invading one's flesh and bones, and the prairie,
washe