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"Wal now, I reckon I could handle the boat an' fetch Creech's hosses over,"
said Holley.
Bostil raised an impatient hand, as if to wave aside Holley's assumption.
Then one of the other two men spoke up. Lucy had seen him before, but did not
know his name.
"Sure there ain't any need to rustle the job. The river hain't showed any
signs of risin' yet. But Creech is worryin'. He allus is worryin' over them
hosses. No wonder! Thet Blue Roan is sure a hoss. Yesterday at two miles he
showed Creech he was a sight faster than last year. The grass is gone over
there. Creech is grainin' his stock these last few days. An' thet's
expensive."
"How about the flat up the canyon?" queried Bostil. "Ain't there any grass
there?"
"Reckon not. It's the dryest spell Creech ever had," replied the other. "An'
if there was grass it wouldn't do him no good. A landslide blocked the only
trail up."
"Bostil, them hosses, the racers special, ought to be brought acrost the
river," said Holley, earnestly. He loved horses and was thinking of them.


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