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.