washed from the long rows of trees which lined the streets.

It rained steadily all over the valley. The creek which came from the
mountains, and which distributed its waters to the town and adjacent
farm-lands, was unusually muddy. Up in the canyon, just above the town,
it seemed to leap over the rocks with unwonted fury, dashing its brown
waters into white foam. The town below, the farms and gardens of the
whole valley, depended for their existence on that small river. Through
the long, hot summer its waters had been distributed into streams and
sub-streams like the branches of a great tree, and had carried the
life-giving element to the growing vegetation in the valley; but now it
was master no more. The rain was pouring down on places which the river
could not reach. No wonder the river seemed angry at such usurpation.

About two miles from town, upon the high bench-land which lay above the
waters in the river, stood a hut. It was built of unhewn logs, and had a
mud roof. Stretches of sagebrush desert reached in every direction from
it. A few acres of cleared land lay near by, its yellow stubble drinking
in the rain. A horse stood under a shed. A pile of sagebrush with ax and
chopping block lay in the yard.

Evening came on and still it rained. A woman often appeared at the door
of the hut, and a pale, anxious face peered out into the twilight. She
looked out over the bench-land and then up to the mountains. Through the
clouds which hung around their summits, she could see the peaks being
covered with snow. She looked at the sky, then again along the plain.
She went in, closed the door, and filled the stove from the brush-wood
in the box. A little girl was sitting in the corner by the stove, with
her feet resting on the hearth.