or rain? But _cuidado_--behold, the ground was still
dry; it drank up the water as it fell and was thirsty again; the river
fell lower and lower and the water was clear; a bad sign, a very bad
sign!

But if the young should wait upon the advice of the old there would be
no more miracles. Creede and Hardy passed up the weather, strapped on
their six-shooters, and began to patrol the range, "talking reason" to
the stray Mexicans who thought that, because their sheep were getting
poor, they ought to move them to better feed.

The time for friendship and diplomacy was past, as Hardy politely
informed his employer by letter--after which he told Rafael to keep
away from the post office and not bring him any more _correo_, if he
valued his job. But though he had made his note to Judge Ware brief,
it had said too much. He had suggested that if the judge did not like
his change of policy he had better come down and see the actual
conditions for himself--and the old judge came.

It was midafternoon of that fateful day when Creede and Hardy, riding
in from up the river, saw Rafael's wagon in front of the house. This
was not surprising in itself as he had been down to Bender for
round-up supplies, but as the two partners approached the house Creede
suddenly grabbed Hardy's rein and drew back as if he were on top of a
rattlesnake.

"For God's sake," he said, "what's that? Listen!"

He jerked a thumb toward the house, and in the tense silence Hardy
could clearly discern the sound of women's voices. Now you could ride
the Four Peaks country far and wide and never hear the music of such
voices, never see calico on the line, or a lace curtain across the
window. There were no women in that godless land, not since the Widow
Winship took Sallie and Susie and left precipitately for St. Louis,
none save the Senora Moreno and certain strapping Apache squaws who
wore buckskin _tewas_ and carried butcher knives in their belts. Even
the heart of Rufus Hardy went pit-a-pat and stopped, at the sound of
that happy chatter.

"They're rustlin' the whole dam' house," exclaimed Creede, all nerves
and excitement. "Didn't you hear that pan go 'bamp'? Say, I believe
they're cleanin' house! Rufe," he whispered, "I bet you money we're
jumped!"

The possibility of having their ranch preempted during their absence
had been spoken of in a general way, since Jim Swope had gone on the
warpath, but in his secret soul Rufus Hardy had a presentiment which