"This here star-faced sorrel is shore burnin' the earth, he's that speedy. Whar's that chuck wagon, I wonder? The herd's some scattered. Dick's down! Poor old Dick! The old passel of 'em right over him--nothin' left but blood an' mush, same as that Bee County Texan last fall. That's shore a raw deal for a cowman." Again he was silent, then shouted wildly, "Rowel an' quirt, boys, rowel an' quirt!" Suddenly Tari's hoarse voice broke in from forward: "Big rain come soon!" The Kanaka was right. A large black cloud was coming swiftly up astern, which had not been noticed by Jack, taken up as he was by Broncho's ravings. Hastily Jack and Tari with weak, desperate efforts managed to spread a sail to catch the precious fluid. Jack gently pushed Broncho to one side, but this roused the madman's ire. "If you reckons I allows a pullet like you to come man-handlin' me, you're shore saddlin' the wrong hoss. No deadbeat ain't goin' to come pawin' this longhorn 'less he's organised for war instanter----" "Only me, Broncho! Don't you know Derringer Jack?" broke in that worthy sadly. The delirious man stared wildly. "Jack!" he muttered. "Why, it's Jack!" Then, overcome by the growing weakness, he sank back in the bottom of the boat, but he never took his haggard eyes from the rover. The tropical squall approached rapidly; the stars faded away before it, as it climbed the heavens; then, with a burst of wind, the rain fell upon the boat's crew and lashed the calm sea into white as it pounded all around them. In a moment all hands were soaked, and Jack and Tari, refreshed and wonderfully strengthened, were soon busy pouring the life-giving liquid down the parched throats of the two delirious ones. When day broke the boat was running northward before a light breeze, and both the boy and Broncho had recovered their senses again. The water-breakers had all been filled, and a small quantity of beef and biscuit served out by Jack. A renewed cheerfulness prevailed, and a hopeful confidence that they would win through animated all. Broncho, on being told of his night's behaviour, was very disgusted with himself. "The way I conducts myself was shore scandalous," he remarked with keen self-reproach, "not to say low an' ornery. I'm plumb 'umiliated with my outrageous goin's on. Whyever didn't you down me, Jack? A man as weakens that-away an' goes locoed when things merely seems a bit rocky ain't worthy to live," and he gave a long grunt of contempt. "Why, this here piccannine, Jim," he went on, "has more sense an puts me to shame. He ain't that pifflin' an' foolish as to go shootin' up spectres, not to speak of scarin' the whole outfit with delusions about Apaches an' cattle stampedes." And Broncho relapsed into silence. He was indeed sore about his short spell of delirium, which he considered as a sign of want of grit on his part, and nothing the others could say seemed to comfort him.