Tanker Ike made a hasty examination. There was only a small quantity left in the second tank, the full one, which had not yet been drawn upon, being completely empty, from a leak that had sprung in the bottom.
“Well, this is tough luck, boys,” commented the plainsman. “I don’t know what to do. We’re bound to be up against it bad whatever we do. We haven’t hardly enough water to last us going back for a fresh supply, and if we keep on we’ll be awful dry by to-morrow night. I don’t like to waste time going back, either.”
“Didn’t you say something about Stinking Spring?” asked Jack. “Can’t we get water there?”
“Yes, but neither man nor beast can drink it. It’s filled with some kind of vile-smelling chemical, and it gives off a gas so deadly that at times it will kill animals that come too close. I’ve even seen a big bear killed by it. No, we can’t get water there.”
“Then what can we do?” asked Sam.
He and the other boys were alarmed by the accident, the most serious that had yet befallen them.
“Well, the only thing I see is for us to keep on,” replied Ike. “If we travel all to-night and keep up a pretty good pace to-morrow, we may strike the Shoshone River in time to—well, in time to wet our whistles. But it’s going to be a hard pull, and I don’t know whether the horses will stand it.”
“Let’s try,” suggested Jack, who never believed in giving up in the face of difficulties.
“That’s the way to talk!” commented Ike. “Maybe we can do it.”