Five minutes later the autos were even, racing along the valley toward the coveted riches. The excitement of the race was too keen to admit of the wasting of breath in useless taunts. A tense silence was preserved, broken only by the throbbing of the rival motors.
“Have we any water aboard?” asked Bob, about ten minutes after the two machines got on even terms.
“I guess there’s plenty in the tanks,” answered Ned.
“I mean to drink,” went on Chunky. “I’m as dry as a fish.”
“Now that you speak of it, I would like a cool cupful myself,” admitted Ned. “Have we any, Jerry?”
“Not a drop.”
The subject was not mentioned again for some time. But once the idea had been broached it seemed impossible for Bob or Ned to get rid of it. Their thirst grew amazingly under the hot sun, and soon all the others were thinking how delicious some cold water would be.
“I’ve simply got to have a drink,” said poor Bob at length. “I’ll die if I don’t get one.”
He certainly looked as if he needed it. The others, too, were suffering the torments of thirst, for they had drunk nothing since early morning.
“Can’t we stop and get some water?” asked Ned.