Henry’s blue eyes brightened. “It sure does,” he agreed, casting an anxious look at the sky above the wooded ridges. “And here’s me without a rain gauge. Plumb ruint, boys. Roger’s bell burro she clean et her up. And here’s winter comin’ on, and me without a gauge! I’m hikin’ to Diamond H to send a letter for another one. If I don’t get her before it storms I’m plumb ruint—heh-heh-heh!”
His face was so forlorn and his deep-throated chuckle so indicative of secret mirth that the result was ludicrous.
“When’d that happen, Henry?” Leach questioned, affecting interest and sympathy.
“Little time back.”
“Where? At Shirttail Bend?”
“No, up above the lake. Furder ner that—up on th’ toes o’ Dewlap.”
“What were you doing up there, Henry?”
“I was showin’ ’em how to get to the Valley of Arcana, which is her new name,” Henry divulged. “And Roger Furlong’s bell burro she—”
“That was sure tough luck, Henry. And did they get to the valley?”
“I don’t know. I reckon not. I hadta leave ’em and send in for another rain gauge.”