In half an hour Casey rode up, bringing with him a man of medicine in the person of Doctor Billy Swift. And Billy Swift, whose chronic grievance was that Coldstream was altogether too healthy for a physician to live in, greeted his patients with enthusiasm and got busy at once.
Hess, strolling up from a confidential talk with Sheriff Dove, ran into Clyde and Casey snugly ensconced in a corner of the veranda, where thick hop vines shaded them from the public gaze.
"Excuse me!" said Hess, with little originality, but much embarrassment.
"Not at all," Casey replied, under the impression that he was carrying off matters very nonchalantly. Clyde laughed at both of them.
"We don't mind you, Uncle Jim, do we, Casey?"
"Look here," said Hess, "if this is the young man who has been raisin' Cain around here, and destroying my property before I owned it, suppose you introduce me?"
The two men shook hands, gripping hard, measuring each other with their eyes. And Clyde was tactful enough to leave them to develop their acquaintance alone.
"I want to thank you for your wire to Clyde," said Casey. "You can guess what it meant to all of us here."
"I've a fair notion," said Hess. "Of course, I only know what Clyde has told me, but I can see that you people have been up against a hard proposition. After this I hope you won't have much to kick at. We won't take advantage of that clause in the old railway charter—at least not enough to interfere with men who are actually using water now. But I want you to be satisfied with enough to irrigate, used economically."
"That's all we ever wanted."