It was Texas who, when they halted, poured the last of the water
from the barrel into the canteen and carefully measured out to each
a small portion. It was Texas now who gave the word to start again
on their journey. And when the desert man placed the canteen with
their meager supply of water in the corner of the wagon-box under
his own feet the others understood and made no comment.

At noon, when each was given his carefully measured portion from the
canteen, Jefferson Worth, before they could check him, wet his
handkerchief with his share of the water and gave it to the Seer to
wipe the dust from the hot little face of the child. The eyes of the
big engineer filled and Texas, with an oath that was more reverent
than profane, poured another measure and forced the banker to drink.

As the long, hot, thirsty hours of that afternoon dragged slowly
past, the faces of the men grew worn and haggard. The two days and
nights in the trying storm, the exertion of their search among the
sand hills, the excitement of finding the woman's body and the
discovery of the child, followed by the long sleepless night, and
now the hard, hot, dreary hours of the struggle with the Desert that
seemed to gather all its dreadful strength against them, were
beginning to tell. Texas Joe, forced to give constant attention to
his team and hardened by years of experience, showed the strain
least, while Pat, unfitted for such a trial by his protracted spree
in San Felipe, undoubtedly suffered most.

After dinner the Irishman sat motionless in his place with downcast
face, lifting his head only at long intervals to gaze with fierce
hot eyes upon the barren landscape, while muttering to himself in a