He had looked at the house, and there seemed to be nothing wrong here, for he could see Peggy's wash on the line that ran from a porch column to a corner of the stable.
The actions of the three horses in the corral was what attracted his attention.

They were crowding the rail at the point nearest him, neighing shrilly, though with a curious clacking in their throats that he instantly detected.
"They're wantin' water," he said aloud.

He rode to the water trough and saw that it was dry, with a deposit in the bottom which did not contain a drop of moisture.
"There ain't been no water put in there since I left," he decided; "them horses is chokin' with thirst." A pulse of anxiety ran over him.

There was no doubt in his mind now that his presentiment of evil was not without foundation, and he wheeled his horse and sent it toward the house.
"Peggy would give them water if she was able to be on her feet," he declared, "she's that kind." But halfway to the house another thought assailed him.

It drew his brows together in a scowl, it stiffened his lips until they were in straight, hard lines.
"Mebbe Dale's been here! Mebbe he's still here!" He abruptly halted his horse and gazed around him.