“They have sniffed water.”
“But I can’t see it anywhere!”
“That’s likely,” replied the hunter, smiling as he spoke. He was having less difficulty than his young companion in controlling his mount.
The animal which Reuben was riding had stretched forth its neck and its muscles were almost as tense and stiff as if they had been made of bone. Occasionally one of the excited mules stopped, and, planting its feet firmly in the ground, stretched forth its neck, elevated its tail, and at the same time emitted another prolonged and discordant bray.
The minutes passed swiftly and no signs of the longed-for water were discovered. An hour passed in the wild flight and still the stream was not found. To Reuben’s protest that the mules had been mistaken, Kit Carson made no reply save to smile in the quiet manner which was characteristic of him, and slowly shook his head as if he still had faith in the instinct of the strange beasts.
Ten minutes later a cry arose from the dry throats of the men when a stream not far in advance was seen by them all. In a brief time the entire line had gained the banks and men and animals alike plunged into the water and drank their fill.
“I never knew before how good it seemed to have all the water I wanted to drink,” said Reuben with a sigh of relief when he returned to the bank and once more stood beside the leader.
“It’s just like air and sunshine and other things that are so common that no one thinks they are worth much,” replied Carson thoughtfully. “It is only when we lose them that we think they are worth having.”
“This certainly is worth having,” said Reuben fervently.
“It’s so good that I think we’ll stay here for a little while. Turn in, boys,” the leader added, calling to his companions, “and we’ll make camp.”