I'll give you what water I can, though. As for feed, you'd better
go on three miles to Keith's ranch. It's on Lost Creek Flat, and
there's lots of haystacks there, and you can help yourself. At
the ranch-house they will give you other things."

We drove over to the man's house, and got half a pail of
water apiece for the horses. They wanted more, but there was no
more in the well. The man said we could get everything we wanted
at the ranch, and we started on. The horses were tired, but even
Old Blacky was quite amiable, and trudged along in the sand
without complaint.

Jack was still in the wagon, and we heard nothing of him. It
was cloudy and very dark. But the horses kept in the trail, and
after, as it seemed to us, we had gone five miles, we felt
ourselves on firmer ground. Soon we thought we could make out
something, perhaps hay-stacks, through the darkness. I sent Ollie
on the pony to see what it was. He rode away, and in a moment I
heard a great snorting and a stamping of feet, and Ollie's voice
calling for me to come. I ran over with the lantern, and found
that he had ridden full into a barbed-wire fence around a
hay-stack. The pony stood trembling, with the blood flowing from
her breast and legs, but the scratches did not seem to be deep.

"We must find that ranch-house," I said to Ollie. "It ought
to be near."

For half an hour we wandered among the wilderness of
hay-stacks, every one protected by barbed wire. At last we heard
a dog barking, followed the sound, and came to the house. The dog