There was a power of feeling in the word.
"Rain."
In lands where skies are dull, where moisture hangs in the air, where a downpour spoils pleasure and provokes temper, the word rain has a very different meaning. To Glen Leigh rain meant almost everything. There had been none for over nine months, not a drop, and that small balloon-like cloud that cast its shadows and startled him, was more welcome than a shower of gold.
"It's curious," he muttered, "I've never seen it exactly like this. But it must mean rain. God send it. We want it, we dried up sapless things. Rain, Ping. Do you hear, old parchment, rain. And your coat'll be dripping wet. There'll be grass, and you'll feel juice in your mouth instead of dried leaves and twigs. Rain, Ping, rain!"
He gave the horse a sound smack, jerked up his head, and pointed to the cloud rolling above.
A slight breeze came. Ping sniffed, inhaling it with delight, while an anxious look of anticipation came into his eyes.
Glen watched the cloud as though his life depended on it, as thousands of lives did. It was a peculiar phenomenon, a black patch steering through a sea of blue. In its wake it left a trail, dull, streaking out, and beyond the trail were more heavy clouds on the rain path. This leader was the herald of the storm.
There was no moan, there was nothing to cause it, but presently the wire fence seemed to buzz, and the rising wind came through it playing on the strings a sort of sad harmony, but sweet music in the ears of the man and horse.
A low rumbling sound proclaimed the advance of the clouds, and they rolled along in battalions blotting out the sunlight; the relief to the eyes was immense. He waited, but Jim Benny did not come. He almost forgot about him in his anxiety over the approaching rain.
A crack straight above his head, which echoed over the plain, was followed by a burst of water which deluged him and Ping in a few minutes. Both gasped with relief. They opened their mouths, and the refreshing water cooled them; they had not had such a soaking for months. The land responded to the rain. He fancied he saw the blades of grass already shooting; he knew they would be there in a matter of twenty-four hours. He mounted Ping and rode to his hut. It was no use waiting any longer for Jim Benny; he would see him next day. Still he wondered what had come to him, and felt a bit uneasy. He liked Jim, although he seldom spoke more than a few words to him. Perhaps it was the mystery surrounding him which appealed to him; he was a mysterious man himself.