The Dude Wrangler Part 19

"In what way, may I ask?"

Mr. Reed's tone became impressive:

"I am--a water witch."

Wallie looked puzzled.

"Some call it magic, but the fact is, I am able to locate water with a forked willer and you can call it anything you want to."

Wallie regarded the worker of miracles with fresh attention. His belief in his own powers was evidently so sincere that even a skeptic could not fail to be impressed by him.

He continued:

"With my divinin' rod I have flew in the faces of the biggest geologists in the country and found water where they said there wasn't any."

"Will the divining rod tell you how far you must dig for it?"

"Pretty close to it. I count a foot to every bob of the willer."

"In a state like Illinois where there is a great deal of moisture I presume it would be possible to get water anywhere if one went deep enough, but in Wyoming--frankly, I should not like to rely on the divining rod in Wyoming, Mr. Reed."

Mr. Reed looked somewhat offended and declared with spirit:

"I'll tell you what I'll do--I'll make you a sportin' proposition. I'll test the ground with the willer and if it says we'll get water at a certain depth and we don't strike it, I'll dig till we do, for nothin', if we have to go till we hear the Chinamen gibber. That's fair, ain't it?"

Wallie could not gainsay it.

"I got a willer on my saddle and it won't cost nothin' for a demonstration. Say the word," persuasively, "and you've good as got a fine, flowing well of water."

It would do no harm to let the water witch make his test, Wallie decided, so he followed sheepishly in the wake of Rufus and his willow as he walked over the greater part of the one hundred and sixty acres.

"'Tain't nowise plentiful," the latter admitted, as with each hand gripping a p.r.o.ng of the willow he kept his eyes fixed upon it. "But if it's here I'm bound to find it, so don't get discouraged."

Expecting nothing, Wallie was not disappointed.

At the top of a draw some hundred and fifty yards from the cabin Rufus suddenly halted.

"I felt somethin'," he said, hopefully.

"Where?" Wallie asked, interested.

"In my arm--like pins and needles--it's a symptom. She's goin' to bob!"

Excitedly. "You watch and count along of me."

The willow bobbed unmistakably.

"Sixty-eight!" They finished together.

"I told you!" Rufus cried, triumphantly. He stamped his foot: "Right here is where you'll strike it." His tone was as positive as if he saw it flowing beneath the surface.

Impressed in spite of himself, Wallie endeavoured to be conservative.

"Could it have been your subconscious mind?" he asked, doubtfully.

"I ain't any. Rufus Reed is right out in the open. I'll stake my reputation there's plenty of water if you'll go after it."

"It's rather far from the house for convenience," he objected.

"Water in Wyoming is like whiskey, you have to take it where you can get it and not be particular."

It was a temptation, and the cost at three dollars a foot was not excessive. Wallie pondered it and said finally:

"You will agree in writing to dig without remuneration until you get water if you do not strike it at sixty-eight feet?"

"An iron-clad contract will suit yours truly," Mr. Reed declared, emphatically. He added: "I'll bring two men to work the h'ist and empty the bucket. Of course you'd aim to board us?"

"Why, yes, I can," Wallie said a little uncertainly. He had not thought of that feature, but he realized it would be necessary.

He had figured that with strict economy he had provisions enough to last him well toward summer. Three men eating three meals daily might make some difference in his calculations, but nothing serious probably.

So the contract was drawn up and signed and Rufus departed, eminently satisfied, as was Wallie, who was so eager to see his well started that he could hardly wait until the following Monday.

In the interim he dreamed of his well of cold, pure water, and every time he made use of his "toe-holts" he told himself that that inconvenience would soon be eliminated. He meant to have a windmill as soon as he could afford it, for whatever else the country might lack there was no dearth of wind for motive power.

There was something permanent-looking about a well and he chuckled as he speculated as to what Canby would say when he heard of it, and he wished with all his heart that he might be around when Helene Spenceley learned that he was sinking a well on his place for household and stock purposes.

He had taken advantage of the opportunity which the gift of the cake presented to send her a note of thanks and appreciation. In reply he had received an invitation which had stung him worse than if she had written that she never wanted to see him cross her threshold.

His eyes gleamed every time he read it, which was so often that it was worn through the creases from being folded and unfolded:

Dear "Gentle Annie":

Won't you stop at the ranch on your way out and pay us a visit?

I presume the middle of the summer at latest will see the last of you as I have no idea that you will be able to go through the discouragements and hards.h.i.+ps attendant upon proving up on a homestead.

My brother also will enjoy meeting you as he has heard so much of you.

Looking for you soon, I am Sincerely, HELENE SPENCELEY.

P.S. I have a new sweater pattern that I am sure will please you.

Every word had a nettle in it, a taunt that made him tingle. It seemed to Wallie he had never known such a "catty" woman, and he meant to tell her so, some day, when he was rich and successful and had proved how wrong she was in her estimate of him.

He was tempted to send her word, on a postal, anonymously, of the well he was digging if he had not feared she would suspect him. It seemed so long to wait for Pinkey to convey the tidings.

Rufus arrived on Monday morning, and the "crew" to which he had referred proved to be members of his own family--John and Will--whales as to size, and clownish.

It came to Wallie's mind that if they did not move any faster when they worked than when they were at leisure, the well-digging would be a long process, and his heart sank when he saw them feeding their horses so liberally from the hay which had cost $20 a ton, delivered.