Dusk had fallen by the time Greasy had been brought to the bunkhouse, and Mrs. Norton had lighted the kerosene lamps when Norton and Hollis, assured of the safety of the prisoner, left the bunkhouse and went into the house for supper. Potter had washed the dust of travel from him and when Norton and Hollis arrived he was seated on the porch, awaiting them. Mrs. Norton greeted them with a smile. Her eyes expressed gratitude as they met Hollis’s.

“I am so glad you were in time,” she said. “I told Neil not to do it, but he was determined and wouldn’t listen to me.”

“You might have tried ‘bossing’ him,” suggested Hollis, remembering his range boss’s words on the occasion of his first meeting with Norton’s wife. He looked straight at Norton, his eyes narrowing quizzically. “You know you told me once that—”

“Mebbe I was stretchin’ things a little when I told you that,” interrupted Norton, grinning shamelessly. “If a man told the truth all the time he’d have a hard time keepin’ ahead of a woman.”

“‘Woman–she don’t need no tooter,’” quoted Hollis. “It has taken you a long time to discover what Ace has apparently known for years. And Ace is only a bachelor.”

Norton’s eyes lighted. “You’re gettin’ back at me for what I said to you the day before yesterday–when you stopped off at Hazelton’s,” he declared. “All the same you’ll know more about women when you’ve had more experience with them. When I told you that I’d been ‘bossed,’ I didn’t mean that I’d been bossed regular. No woman that knows just how much she can run a man ever lets him know that she’s bossin’ him. Mebbe she’ll act like she’s lettin’ him have his own way. But she’s bossin’ him just the same. He sort of likes it, I reckon. At least it’s only when a man gets real mad that he does a little bossin’ on his own account. And then, like as not, he’ll find that he’s made a big mistake. Like I did to-day about hangin’ Greasy, for instance.”

Hollis bowed gravely to Mrs. Norton. “I think he ought to be forgiven, Mrs. Norton,” he said. “Day before yesterday he presumed to lecture me on the superiority of the married male over the unmarried one. And now he humbly admits to being bossed. What then becomes of his much talked of superiority? Shall I–free and unbossed–admit inferiority?”

Mrs. Norton smiled wisely as she moved around the table, arranging the dishes. “I couldn’t decide that,” she said, “until it is explained to me why so many men are apparently so eager to engage a boss.”

“I reckon that settles that argument!” gloated Norton.

Had this conversation taken place two months before Hollis might have answered, Why, indeed, were men so eager to engage a boss? Two months before he might have answered cynically, remembering the unhappiness of his parents. That he did not answer now showed that he was no longer cynical; that he had experienced a change of heart.

Of course Mrs. Norton knew this–Norton must have told her. He could appreciate the subtle mockery that had suggested the question, but he did not purpose to allow Norton to sit there and enjoy the confusion that was sure to overtake him did he attempt to continue the argument with Mrs. Norton. He was quite certain that Norton anticipated such an outcome.“Perhaps Norton can answer that?” he suggested mildly.

“I ain’t no good at guessin’ riddles,” jeered Norton. “But I reckon you know–if you wanted to tell.”

But Hollis did not tell, and the conversation shifted to other subjects. After supper they went out upon the porch. A slight breeze had sprung up with the dusk, though the sky was still cloudless. At ten o’clock, when they retired, the breeze had increased in velocity, sighing mournfully through the trees in the vicinity of the ranchhouse, though there was no perceptible change in the atmosphere–it seemed that the wind was merely shifting the heat waves from one point to another.

“A good, decent rain would save lots of trouble to-morrow,” said Norton as he and Hollis stood on the porch, taking a last look at the sky before going to bed.

“Do you really think Dunlavey will carry out his threat?” questioned Hollis. “Somehow I can’t help but think that he was bluffing when he said it.”

“He don’t do much bluffin’,” declared Norton. “At least he ain’t done much up to now.”

“But there is plenty of water in the Rabbit-Ear,” returned Hollis; “plenty for all the cattle that are here now.”

Norton flashed a swift glance at him. “That’s because you don’t know this country,” he said. “Four years ago we had a dry spell. Not so bad as this, but bad enough. The Rabbit-Ear held up good enough for two months. Then she went dry sudden. There wasn’t water enough in her to fill a thimble. I reckon you ain’t been watchin’ her for the last day or so?”

Hollis admitted that he had not seen the river within that time. Norton laughed shortly.

“She’s dry in spots now,” he informed Hollis. “There ain’t any water at all in the shallows. It’s tricklin’ through in some places, but mostly there’s nothin’ but water holes an’ dried, baked mud. In two days more, if it don’t rain, there won’t be water enough for our own stock. Then what?”

“There will be water for every steer on the range as long as it lasts,” declared Hollis grimly. “After that we’ll all take our medicine together.”

“Good!” declared Norton. “That’s what I expected of you. But I don’t think it’s goin’ to work out that way. Weary was ridin’ the Razor Back this mornin’ and he says he saw Dunlavey an’ Yuma and some more Circle Cross guys nosin’ around behind some brush on the other side of the creek. They all had rifles.”

Hollis’s face paled slightly. “Where are the other men–Train and the rest?” he inquired.

“Down on Razor Back,” Norton informed him; “they sneaked down there after Weary told me about seein’ Dunlavey on the other side. Likely they’re scattered by now–keepin’ an eye out for trouble.”

“Well,” decided Hollis, “there isn’t any use of looking for it. It finds all of us soon enough. To-morrow is the tenth day and I am sure that if Dunlavey carries out his threat he won’t start anything until to-morrow. Therefore I am going to bed.” He laughed. “Call me if you hear any shooting. I may want to take a hand in it.”

They parted–Hollis going to his room and Norton stepping down off the porch to take a turn down around the pasture to look after the horses.

Hollis was tired after his experiences of the day and soon dropped off to sleep. It seemed that he had been asleep only a few minutes, however, when he felt a hand shaking him, and a voice–Norton’s voice.

“Hollis!” said the range boss. “Hollis! Wake up!”Hollis sat erect, startled into perfect wakefulness. He could not see Norton’s face in the dark, but he swung around and sat on the edge of the bed.

“What’s up?” he demanded. “Have they started?”

He heard Norton laugh, and there was satisfaction in the laugh. “Started?” he repeated. “Well, I reckon something’s started. Listen!”

Hollis listened. A soft patter on the roof, a gentle sighing of the wind, and a distant, low rumble reached his ears. He started up. “Why, it’s raining!” he said.

Norton chuckled. “Rainin’!” he chirped joyously. “Well, I reckon it might be called that by someone who didn’t know what rain is. But I’m tellin’ you that it ain’t rainin’–it’s pourin’! It’s a cloud-burst, that’s what it is!”

Hollis did not answer. He ran to the window and stuck his head out. The rain came against his head and shoulders in stinging, vicious slants. There was little lightning, and what there was seemed distant, as though the storm covered a vast area. He could dimly see the pasture–the horses huddled in a corner under the shelter that had been erected for them; he could see the tops of the trees in the cottonwood grove–bending, twisting, leaning from the wind; the bunkhouse door was open, a stream of light illuminating a space in which stood several of the cowboys. Some were attired as usual, others but scantily, but all were outside in the rain, singing, shouting, and pounding one another in an excess of joy. For half an hour Hollis stood at the window, watching them, looking out at the storm. There was no break anywhere in the sky from horizon to horizon. Plainly there was to be plenty of rain. Convinced of this he drew a deep breath of satisfaction, humor moving him.

“I do hope Dunlavey and his men don’t get wet.” he said. He went to his trousers and drew forth his watch. He could not see the face of it and so he carried it to the window. The hands pointed to fifteen minutes after one. “It’s the tenth day,” he smiled. “Dunlavey might have saved himself considerable trouble in the future if he had placed a little trust in Providence–and not antagonized the small owners. I don’t think Providence has been looking out for my interests, but I wonder who will stand the better in the estimation of the people of this county–Dunlavey or me?”

He smiled again, sighed with satisfaction, and rolled into bed. For a long time he lay, listening to the patter of the rain on the roof, and then dropped off to sleep.