being flung against the windlass by a thirsty beast, Edgar called to
his companion.

"They'll break through if you're not quick! It's my opinion they're
bent on getting down the well!"

George came to his assistance with his riding quirt, but when they were
supplying the last two or three unsatisfied animals, a man ran out of
the bluff.

"What in thunder are you doing with our water?" he cried.

"He looks angry," Edgar commented. "When that rancher fellow told us
about the well, he didn't mention the necessity of asking Mr. Baxter's
permission." Then he waved his hand to the stranger.

"Come here and have a talk!"

The man came on at a quicker run. His face was hot with indignation,
and on reaching them he broke into breathless and pointed
expostulations.

"When you're quite through, we'll assess the damages," George quietly
told him.

The farmer's anger began to dissipate.

"No," he said; "that would be taking a pretty mean pull on you; but
water's scarce, and you can't have any more."