And seizing the coffee-pot he sturdily ran and stumbled to the fore. All hastened after him, rivalling the frantic mules, but he beat.
Water it was! When they approached it did not vanish as a mirage would; and they met Billy returning with coffee-pot actually dripping as its precious contents slopped over.
Davy felt a strong impulse to halt Billy, wrest the pot from him, and drink long and deep. But of course this was only a thought. Puffing, Billy passed.
“There’s plenty water waiting you,” he announced. “I’ll bring Left-over on after he’s had his drink.”
Yes, water it was—a real stream flowing crooked and shallow in a deep bed bordered by brush and willows. The trail led to a ford. Wagon and all, the mules fairly plunged in, and burying their noses to their eyes gulped and gulped. First Jim, then in quick succession Davy and Captain Hi and Mr. Baxter (who was the last of all) imitated the mules. Whew, but that drink was a good long one! It seemed to Davy, as he sucked again and again, that he simply could not swallow fast enough.
“Some head stream or other, I reckon,” finally spoke Captain Hi. “Shouldn’t wonder if we had water now all the way in. We’re getting where the drainage from the mountains begins to cut some figger.”
Billy arrived with Left-over. They spent the rest of the day beside the welcome stream; and by morning they left about as strong as ever.
The trail that they were following now crossed at least one stream a day, so that the water cask was kept filled. The buffalo jerky had been eaten or was not eatable; but antelope and black-tail deer were abundant. So the trail proved pleasant. Captain Hi called attention to the fact that the water was growing colder to the taste; and he said that the snow mountains must therefore be nearer. Indeed, the mountains were nearer; they lined the whole western horizon, and made a humpy, dark ridge extending from straight ahead far up into the north. A haze like to a fog veiled them much of the time, and the Hee-Haw party were always expecting a better view.
Anyway, there were the Rocky Mountains in sight; and little by little the trail was approaching them. Yet it was a long, long trail, and who would have imagined that the plains were so broad from Leavenworth to the digging!
However, one morning a surprise occurred. The trail had been threading a little divide which evidently separated one stream from another. A few pines were growing on it. They smelled good. When the mules had tugged the wagon over the last rise and were descending a splendid spectacle unfolded to the eyes of the Hee-Haws. Involuntarily they cheered—hooray! and again hooray! For right before them was the main trail once more, with the wagons of emigrants whitening it and with a stage dashing along.