Wilson tugged at his grizzled beard and pulled his sunburnt hat over his eyes.
“We should have put down wells,” said Hill.
Wilson broke into sudden blasphemy, and checked it with a kind of gasp, as though he felt that madness lay just beyond the limits of his self-control.
“So we should,” he said; “so we should.”
And he walked away.
“You took that cursin’ very quiet,” said Jim. And there was something in Hill’s eye that made him flinch.
“Oh, well,” he said apologetically, and Hill glared at him. The heat was in more than one.
“My son,” said Hill, “I’ve half a mind——”
And then he rose and followed Wilson. He caught him up and talked hard till Wilson shook his head and went inside and slammed the door.
“He should make it up with Grear, and if Grear let him down on to the river he might save some.”