I'm sorry
now."
"It won't be so terrible if he doesn't lose the horses," murmured Lucy.
"Where's young Joel Creech?" asked Bostil.
"He stayed on this side last night," replied Van. "Fact is, Joel's the one who
first knew the flood was on. Some one said he said he slept in the canyon last
night. Anyway, he's ravin' crazy now. An' if he doesn't do harm to some one or
hisself I'll miss my guess."
"A-huh!" grunted Bostil. "Right you are."
"Dad, can't anything be done to help Creech now?" appealed Lucy, going close
to her father.
Bostil put his arm around her and felt immeasurably relieved to have the
golden head press close to his shoulder. "Child, we can't fly acrost the
river. Now don't you cry about Creech's hosses. They ain't starved yet. It's
hard luck. But mebbe it'll turn out so Creech'll lose only the race. An',
Lucy, it was a dead sure bet he'd have lost thet anyway."
Bostil fondled his daughter a moment, the first time in many a day, and then
he turned to his rider at the door. "Van, how's the King?"
"Wild to run, Bostil, jest plumb wild.
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