The second guard, under Flood, pushed the cattle off their beds an
hour before dawn, and before they were relieved had urged the herd
more than five miles on the third day's drive over this waterless
mesa. In spite of our economy of water, after breakfast on this third
morning there was scarcely enough left to fill the canteens for the
day. In view of this, we could promise ourselves no midday
meal--except a can of tomatoes to the man; so the wagon was ordered to
drive through to the expected water ahead, while the saddle horses
were held available as on the day before for frequent changing of
mounts. The day turned out to be one of torrid heat, and before the
middle of the forenoon, the cattle lolled their tongues in despair,
while their sullen lowing surged through from rear to lead and back
again in piteous yet ominous appeal. The only relief we could offer
was to travel them slowly, as they spurned every opportunity offered
them either to graze or to lie down.

It was nearly noon when we reached the last divide, and sighted the
scattering timber of the expected watercourse. The enforced order of
the day before--to hold the herd in a walk and prevent exertion and
heating--now required four men in the lead, while the rear followed
over a mile behind, dogged and sullen. Near the middle of the
afternoon, McCann returned on one of his mules with the word that it
was a question if there was water enough to water even the horse
stock. The preceding outfit, so he reported, had dug a shallow well in
the bed of the creek, from which he had filled his kegs, but the stock
water was a mere loblolly. On receipt of this news, we changed mounts
for the fifth time that day; and Flood, taking Forrest, the cook, and
the horse wrangler, pushed on ahead with the _remuda_ to the waterless
stream.