CHAPTER XII
"The spring gone dry?" cried Si, who was the first to speak.
"And I am as dry as a bone myself!" came from Mark, with something like a groan.
"I guess we are all dry enough," remarked Bob. "Even poor old Darling is suffering."
"Let us go ahead and make certain the report is true," said Mark. "There may be a little water, even if there isn't much."
There was a spark of hope in this remark, and they moved forward once more. But alas! when the spring was gained it was found to be practically dry. There were only a few drops coming from it at a time, and this precious water was dealt out to the women and children.
The boys and Maybe Dixon turned back and formed in a group near the head of Darling, who was looking as wistfully at the spring as anybody.
"Darling, it's too bad, ain't it?" said Bob. "Tough luck, old man!" And he rubbed his hand along the mule's nose.
"How far to the next spring?" questioned Mark.
This question was on everybody's lips. It was learned that there was, or had been, a small creek six miles further along the trail, but whether this was still running or had dried up during the summer nobody could tell.
"Well, we may as well go on," said Mark. "Every minute wasted here only makes matters worse. The quicker we get to some kind of water the better it will be for us."
"That's true," said Bob. "Forward it is," and he led the mule around half a dozen turnouts ahead of them.
"You'll die on the trail!" cried several. "Better turn back to where you came from."
"No, we are bound for California," cried Si.
"California or bust!" added Mark, and Bob said the same.
Josiah Socket was on hand, looking the picture of misery. His family were close at hand, and for a wonder Mrs. Socket had little or nothing to say.
"I think I'll go back," said Socket, dolefully. "We can't afford to die of thirst like this."
"Might as well go ahead," said Maybe Dixon. "May be more water ahead nor behind." And then Socket concluded to advance, although with a look on his face as if going to his execution.
The advance was slow, for the trail was frightfully cut up and full of rough spots. They had gone less than three miles when without warning a wheel came off, letting down one corner of the wagon and spilling some of the outfit to the ground.
WITHOUT WARNING A WHEEL CAME OFF.
WITHOUT WARNING A WHEEL CAME OFF.
WITHOUT WARNING A WHEEL CAME OFF.
"More troubles!" groaned Bob. "Beats all how they seem to be piling up!"
"Is the axle broken, or the hub?" asked Si, anxiously.
"No, only the nut came off," said Mark.
"And where is the nut?"
"Here's the nut!" cried one of the Socket boys, who was trudging on behind them.
The wheel was put into place again and the nut fastened with the wrench they had brought along. Then they picked up what had fallen out of the wagon and put it in place. All were so tired, hot, and thirsty they did not feel like doing a thing. But Mark braced them up.
"Come, boys, we must get some ginger in us, if we expect to win out!" he cried. "There must be water ahead. Let us tramp on until we reach it."
"Forward it is!" echoed Si, faintly. "But say, I'd give 'most anything for a dipperful o' water, or buttermilk!"
"I draw the line on buttermilk," said Mark, who knew little of farm life and did not care for the beverage mentioned.
At last they came in sight of the creek—or rather where the creek had been. The watercourse was moist but that was all. What little water it had contained had been used up days before.
"Dished!" said Bob, laconically.
"The worst luck yet," murmured Mark.
"Not a smell," came from Si. "I thought we'd get something, even if it was pretty riley."
"Onward it is," said Maybe Dixon. "Don't stop to cry over spilt milk."
"That's the talk," said Mark, and they went on as before.
As it grew towards night they could think of nothing but water. Nobody wanted to rest without a drink of something, no matter how bad. Their tongues were swollen and all were "spitting cotton" as Bob put it. Even poor Darling's tongue hung out and the mule looked the picture of suffering.
"He can't drag the load much further," said Mark. "For two pins I'd cut him loose and let him go on alone."
"If we did that, somebody would come along and steal our outfit," said Si.
"What is it, Sammy?" asked Bob, as one of the Socket boys came running up.
"Pap wants to talk to you," answered Sammy.
They halted, and soon Josiah Socket came plodding along.
"My hosses is tuckered out," said he. "I reckon your mule is too. Can't someone go ahead and see if there is water in sight, while the most of us rest?"
"I'll do it!" cried Mark.
"I'll go along!" added Bob. "Si, you can stay with the outfit. If we find any water we'll come back. And anyway, we'll be back by morning, water or no water."
So it was arranged, and Maybe Dixon said he would go forward with the two boys. No time was lost in starting and they set off at a smart pace, considering how they had been traveling since early morning.
At this point the trail was a broad one—that is, there were a dozen paths to follow, taken by different pioneers, all in search of water on their journey westward. As a consequence, they soon reached a point where nobody was in sight.
"We don't want to get lost," said Bob. "We haven't even got a compass to steer by."
"I think I can remember the trail," said Dixon. "That is, if we don't turn around too many times."
Mark was carrying the shotgun,—in hopes of seeing some small game that he might bring down. Maybe Dixon was armed with a rifle, a weapon he had not used since leaving Independence.
"It's queer we don't meet many Indians," said Mark, as they trudged along. So far they had only met a handful of the red men and these had been little more than beggars.
"I guess they don't want to live in such a dry country as this," answered the former sailor boy. "We may meet them in the mountains."
"Maybe we'll meet 'em when we don't want to," said Dixon, and then he put up his hand. "Look there!" he said, softly.
They gazed in the direction pointed out and saw a small deer running among the sage bushes. Its tongue was hanging from its mouth and it looked hot and thirsty.
"I believe that deer is looking for water!" cried Mark.
"More'n likely, lad," answered Maybe Dixon. "Maybe we'd better follow the critter up instead of shootin' it down."
"A deer ought to be able to scent water a long way off," said Bob. "Let us follow the animal by all means. Even if it wants to run away, it will go towards the water first."
They followed the deer, that was too tired to do more than lope along at a slow gait. The chase led around a small hillock and then to where some distant trees were growing.
"I believe it is going for water!" cried Mark. "If so, we are in luck."
Soon they were within two hundred feet of the clump of trees, which, they now saw, were backed up by a series of rocks. The deer was out of sight.
"We've lost the deer!" murmured Bob. "But I shan't care if only we find water over there."
"I think we shall," said Maybe Dixon. "But how much remains to be seen."
All broke into a run and soon gained the first of the trees. No water was there and they turned towards the rocks. Then Mark caught sight of a thin stream of water gushing out from between two big stones and set up a shout:
"Water! water!"
"Hurrah!" cried Bob. "Now we can get our fill and carry the news back to camp."
"Hope there is enough to go around," came from Maybe Dixon.
They rushed to where the water was flowing and found a pool under the stones three feet in diameter and a foot deep. The water was clear but tasted a little of minerals. Yet to the thirsty ones it was the best drink they had ever had.
"Beats all how good water can taste!" said Bob, after getting down and drinking his fill.
"It's the very best ever!" cried Mark, enthusiastically. All his former depression of spirits had left him.
When Maybe Dixon arose he wiped his mouth slowly with the back of his hand.
"It's fit to thank God fer!" he said, and both boys said amen.
The water was so good Mark had to have another drink. In the meantime Maybe Dixon looked again for the deer, but it was out of sight.
"Poor thing!" murmured Bob. "It needed a drink but it wouldn't stop with us around."
"And now it may die of thirst," added Mark.
"I wish we had a pail along. We might take some water back to camp."
"A pailful wouldn't be enough. Come on—we must get the news to the others as soon as we can. They will be worrying every minute while we are gone."
They started to leave the vicinity of the spring when they heard a clatter on the rocks.
"That deer must be coming!" whispered Bob.
"If so, maybe I'll get a shot," said Maybe Dixon.
He raised his hand for silence, and all became quiet. The clatter of hoofs continued, and then came a snort of commingled disappointment and anger. Looking up, they saw a big elk standing and gazing at them. Then another elk appeared and soon a third and a fourth.
"Hullo, what does this mean?" whispered Bob.
"It must be their drinking place," said Mark. "And they don't like it that we are here."
"Look out! They mean fight!" exclaimed Maybe Dixon, and raising his rifle he fired at the elk nearest to him. The animal staggered and fell over the pool. Then it arose, gave a snort, and plunged with lowered antlers directly for Mark.