The earth was thirsty,
and the sky had at last taken pity. It rained all day. The water-ditches
along the streets of the village ran thick and black. The house-wife's
tubs and buckets under the dripping eaves were overrunning. The dust was
washed from the long rows of trees which lined the streets.
It rained steadily all over the valley. The creek which came from the
mountains, and which distributed its waters to the town and adjacent
farm-lands, was unusually muddy. Up in the canyon, just above the town,
it seemed to leap over the rocks with unwonted fury, dashing its brown
waters into white foam. The town below, the farms and gardens of the
whole valley, depended for their existence on that small river. Through
the long, hot summer its waters had been distributed into streams and
sub-streams like the branches of a great tree, and had carried the
life-giving element to the growing vegetation in the valley; but now it
was master no more. The rain was pouring down on places which the river
could not reach.
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