"She isn't spouting!" said Bud, in blank disappointment.
"Just a dribble," added Nort, mournfully.
"And if it does as it did before that'll stop in a little while," remarked Dick.
"When did it start to stop?" asked Bud, unconscious of the double meaning of his words.
"About an hour ago," Old Billee answered. "I happened t' notice it when I come up here t' try for a fish."
"Fish!" cried Nort. "Can you get any fish here?"
"Sartin sure!" asserted the old cowboy. "They come in from th' river, under th' mountain, though how they like the dark I can't say, an' they come out of this pipe. I've caught many a good one."
The eastern lads looked to Bud for confirmation, and their cousin, nodded, rather gloomily, though.
"Yes," said Bud, "fish do come through the pipe. But if we don't get any more water they'll all die off soon."
"Maybe the water will come back—as it did before," asserted Dick.