Creech'll be satisfied," said the rider, as if relieved.

Then he mounted, and with his companion trotted down the lane.
The lean, gray Holley bent a keen gaze upon Bostil.

But Bostil did not notice that; he appeared preoccupied in thought.
"Bostil, the dry winter an' spring here ain't any guarantee thet there wasn't a lot of snow up in the mountains." Holley's remark startled Bostil.
"No--it ain't--sure," he replied.
"An' any mornin' along now we might wake up to hear the Colorado boomin'," went on Holley, significantly.
Bostil did not reply to that.
"Creech hain't lived over there so many years.

What's he know about the river?
An' fer that matter, who knows anythin' sure about thet hell-bent river ?" "It ain't my business thet Creech lives over there riskin' his stock every spring," replied Bostil, darkly.
Holley opened his lips to speak, hesitated, looked away from Bostil, and finally said, "No, it sure ain't." Then he turned and walked away, head bent in sober thought.

Bostil came toward the open door where Lucy stood.