While Mr. Worth and the boy prepared a hasty meal, Texas fed his
team and the Irishman, going back a short distance, made still
another grave beside the road already marked by so many. The child--
still in the engineer's arms--ate hungrily, and when the meal was
over he took her to the wagon, while the others, with a lantern,
returned to the still form by the dry water hole. At the banker's
suggestion, a thorough examination of the woman's clothing was made
for some clue to her identity, but no mark was found. With careful
hands they reverently wrapped the body in a blanket and laid it away
in its rude, sandy bed.

When the grave was filled and protected as best it could be, a short
consultation was held. Mr. Worth wished to return to the half buried
outfit to make another effort to learn the identity of the Desert's
victim, but Texas refused. "'Tain't that I ain't willin' to do
what's right," he said, "but you see how that sand acted. Why, Mr.
Worth, you couldn't move that there drift in a year, an' you know
it. I jest gave the mules the last water they'll get an' we're goin'
to have all we can do to make it through as it is. If we wait to go
back there ain't one chance in a hundred that we-all 'll ever see
Rubio City again. It ain't sense to risk killin' the kid when we've
got a chance to save her--jest on a slim chance o' findin' out who
she is."

Returning to the outfit they very quietly--so as not to awaken the
sleeping child--hitched the team to the wagon and took their places.
As the mules started the baby stirred uneasily in the Seer's arms
and murmured sleepily: "Mamma." But the low, soothing tones of the
big man calmed her and she slept.