a
collateral, from riding for a cattle outfit to killing meat for railway
camps. He and Dunne had come into the Coldstream country at nearly the
same time; but Dunne had some money and McHale none at all. Dunne
bought land and hired McHale. They worked side by side to make the
ranch. McHale bought forty acres from Dunne and worked out the price,
bought more, and was still working it out. But apart from financial
matters they were fast friends, and either would have trusted the other
with anything he possessed.

"Say," said McHale, "there's something wrong. Our ditches ain't runnin'
more'n half full."

Casey put down the hammer. "Maybe the ditch is plugged somewhere."

"She may be, but it ain't likely. I've followed her quite a piece. So I
come to get me a cayuse to go the rest of the way."

"I'll go with you," said Casey, throwing the harness on a peg.

In five minutes they were loping easily along the ditch, with sharp
eyes for possible obstructions. As McHale had said, it was running not
half full, and seemed to be falling. The strong, deep, gurgling note of
a full head of water was gone. Instead was a mere babble.

So far as they could see, the flow was unhindered by obstacles; there
was no break in the banks. Even around the treacherous sidehill there
was no more than the usual seepage. And so at last they rode down to
the Coldstream itself, to the intake of the ditch, a rude wing dam of
logs, brush, and sand bags, which, nevertheless, had served them
excellently heretofore.

"I'm an Injun," McHale, ejaculated, "if the whole durn creek ain't
lowered!" Because he came from a land of real rivers, he invariably
referred to the Coldstream thus slightingly.

But unmistakably it had fallen. Half the dam appeared above the
surface, slimy, weed-grown, darkly water-soaked. Naturally, with the
falling of the water, the ditch had partially failed.

The two men looked at each other. The same thought was present in the
mind of each. It was barely possible that a land or rock slide
somewhere high upstream had dammed or diverted the current; but it was
most improbable. The cause was nearer to seek, the agency extremely
human.

McHale bit into fresh consolation and spat in the direction of the
inadequate dam.

"I reckon they've started in on us," he observed.

"Looks like it," Casey agreed.

"We need water now the worst way. I was figurin' on shootin' a big head
on to the clover, and after that on to the oats. They