At length, when we had been so long on our journey that Elam and Tom declared that I had missed my way, we ran across a fence, and that night we struck the farmer’s house. I noticed that there was corn on the other side of the fence, and that instead of being healthy and green and thrifty-looking, it was stunted and its leaves were beginning to turn yellow. It looked as though it was all ready to gather, only there was not the sign of an ear on any of the stalks that we could see. I found out the reason for this when we put up at the farmer’s house that night,—the first house we had stayed in since leaving Uncle Ezra’s,—when he told us that there had not been a drop of rain in that part of Texas for sixteen months. Water was beginning to get scarce, and the worst of it was, the grass on the school-lands, miles away where all these cattle were pastured, was burning up, and they expected every day to find an army of famishing cattle coming down upon them.
“And that’s something we can’t stand,” said the farmer. “We have only a little grass and water for our own use, and those cattle will use up all we have got. More than that, they will break down our fences and ruin our crops so that we shan’t have a thing to go on. That’s one thing we have to contend with in Texas—long droughts.”
That was one thing I hadn’t thought of, and when we started the next day I took particular notice of the grass and water and found that they were tolerable scarce, every little mud hole in which there was water being fenced in to keep their stock away from it. I had never been in that part of Texas before, and I found that water was hard to get at, we having to fill our bottles to last us all day; but I supposed it was characteristic of the country. Of course the little stock that the farmers had was thrifty and fat, as well they might be, for they had water enough, only not as much as they wanted; but the farther we went into the country the worse grew the situation. We often had to beg for water, and it was the first time I ever did such a thing in my life.
At last we got beyond the range of the farmers, and then we found what suffering for water meant. We were generally able to find a mud hole or two in which water had been, and which was not entirely dry, and by digging down in it would get enough to quench our thirst, and there we would stay until the next morning to enable our horses to gain strength enough to carry us; but there was no grass for them to eat. Everything was dried up. Two nights we spent without water. We had enough in our bottles for ourselves, but our poor horses were obliged to go thirsty. Elam I knew was all right. He would keep on until I gave the word to go back, and if his horse played out, he would shoulder his pack and go ahead on foot, but I looked for a complaint from Tom. It is true he looked pretty glum when his horse came up to him in the morning and said as plainly as he could that he was thirsty, and Tom could count every bone in his body, but never a word of protest did I hear from him. He would get on and ride as if nothing was the matter.
One afternoon we came within sight of a long line of willows which we knew lined a stream, the first we had seen for many a day, and near them was a large herd of cattle ranging about and trying to find enough to eat. A little nearer to us, on a little rise of ground, we saw a horse, his rider having dismounted to give him a chance to browse. He saw us as soon as we did him, and shaded his eyes with his hand and looked at us. Then he picked up his rifle and held it in the hollow of his arm.
“What is he going to do?” said Tom. “Is he going to try to keep us away from that water?”
“We will soon know,” I replied. “I never knew a cowboy to be armed with a rifle before. It proves that there has been somebody here after his water, and he wants to be prepared to meet them at long range.”
It was four miles to where he was, and it took us all of an hour to get up there. It seemed as if our horses couldn’t raise a trot to save their lives. As we made no move to raise our weapons, he finally dropped his to the ground and leaned upon it.
“How-dy!” said I, as soon as we got within speaking distance. That is the term that Western men always use in addressing one another. “I’m almost dead for a drink, and have come here to see if you would give us some.”
“You are alone, I take it?” said the cowboy.