"Nearly an extra three feet of water; there'd be a risk in crossing,"
he said, when Edgar joined him.

"We couldn't make the place where the trail runs in, and the landing
down-stream from it looks bad."

"Then what ought we to do?" Edgar inquired.

"Wait until to-morrow. There's no doubt been a heavy thunderstorm
higher up, but the water should soon run down." George glanced back
toward the prairie dubiously. "I'm a little anxious about the fire;
but, after all, it may not come near us."

The cattle did not wander far after drinking, and the men ate their
supper. It grew dark, but the heat did not lessen, and the oppressive
air was filled with a smell of burning. Looking back between the
trees, they could see a long streak of yellow radiance leaping up, and
growing dim when the view was obstructed by clouds of smoke.

"It's an awkward situation, and, as if it were not bad enough, there's
a big thunderstorm brewing," Edgar said at length. "I'll go along and
look at the mark you made upon the bank."

He strode away among the trees. It was very dark. The tethered horses
were moving restlessly; but, so far as Edgar could make out, the cattle
were bunched together. After lighting a match he came back.

"The water's falling, but only slowly," he reported. "Should we try to
drive the stock along the bank?"