Norton himself stood down by the door of the bunkhouse, grinning with delight. Near him stood Lemuel Train, and several of the other small ranchers whose stock had grazed for more than two weeks on the Circle Bar range without objection from Hollis. They saw him and motioned for him to come down, directing original oaths at him for sleeping so late on so "fine a morning." He dressed hastily and went down. They all ate breakfast in the mess house, the cook being adjured to "spread it on for all he was worth"--which he did. Certainly no one left the mess house hungry. During the meal Lemuel Train made a speech on behalf of himself and the other owners who had enjoyed Hollis's hospitality, assuring him that they were "with him" from now on. Then they departed, each going his separate way to round up his cattle and drive them back to the home ranch. The rain continued throughout the day and far into the night. The dried, gasping country absorbed water until it was sated and then began to shed it off into the arroyos, the gullies, the depressions, and the river beds. Every hollow overflowed with it; it seemed there could never be another drought. Before dawn on the following day all the small ranchers had departed. Several of them, on their way to their home ranches, stopped off at the Circle Bar to shake hands with Hollis and assure him of their appreciation. Lemuel Train did not forget to curse Dunlavey. "We ain't likely to forget how he stood on the water proposition," he said. After Train had departed Norton stood looking after him. Then he turned and looked at Hollis, his eyes narrowing quizzically. "You've got in right with that crowd," he said. "Durned if I don't believe you knowed all the time that it was goin' to rain before Dunlavey's tenth day was over!" Hollis smiled oddly. "Perhaps," he returned; "there is no law, moral or otherwise, to prevent a man from looking a little ahead." After breakfast Hollis gave orders to have Greasy prepared for travel, and an hour later he and the range boss, both armed with rifles, rode out of the corral yard with Greasy riding between them and took the Dry Bottom trail. The earth had already dried; the trail was hard, level, and dustless, and traveling was a pleasure. But neither of the three spoke a word to one another during the entire trip to Dry Bottom. Greasy bestrode his horse loosely, carelessly defiant; Norton kept a watchful eye on him, and Hollis rode steadily, his gaze fixed thoughtfully on the trail. At ten o'clock they rode into Dry Bottom. There were not many persons about, but those who were gave instant evidence of interest in the three by watching them closely as they rode down the street to the sheriff's office, dismounted, and disappeared inside.