"Well," requested George, "have you a paddock or corral you could let
me put this bunch of cattle into until the morning? I'm willing to pay
for the accommodation."

"I can't do it," replied the other. "I want all the fenced grass I've
got. Take them right along, and you'll strike a creek about six miles
ahead. Then you ought to make the river to-morrow night."

It was obvious that he desired to be rid of them; and as it was getting
cooler George resumed his journey. He found the creek early the next
morning, and as the day promised to be unusually hot he delayed only
until he had watered the stock. In an hour or two the sun was hidden
by banks of leaden cloud, but the temperature did not fall and there
was an oppressive heaviness in the air. The prairie had faded to a
sweep of lifeless gray, obscured above its verge. The men made
progress, however; and late in the afternoon a winding line of timber
that marked the river's course appeared ahead. Shortly afterward,
Edgar looked around.

"That's a curious streak of haze in the distance," he remarked.

"It's smoke," said George. "Grass fires are not uncommon in hot
weather. It looks like a big one."

They urged the cattle on a little faster, but it was evening when they
reached the first of the trees. George rode forward between them and
pulled up his horse in some concern. The ford had been difficult when
they crossed it on the outward journey, but now the space between bank
and bank was filled by an angry flood. It rolled by furiously, lapping
in frothy ripples upon the steep slope that led down to it.