"Same old story, Professor. Sage brush and alkali. Tanks full one day, dry the next. There's no accounting for the desert. Every time I get out of the Desert Maze, as somebody has called it, I chalk down a mark on the wall."
"I am beginning to understand that it does hold perils of its own," answered Professor Zepplin, thoughtfully.
"Traveling over the desert is no picnic—that's a fact. Got to take it as it comes, though. If we go dry one day, most likely we fill up the next, or the day after that. Don't pay to get down in the mouth and fret."
"Yes, I understand all that. But I don't wish to take any great chances on account of the boys."
"The boys?" Tom Parry laughed. "Don't you worry about them. Those boys would thrive where a coyote would die at sight of his own eternal starvation shadow."
The Professor shook his head doubtfully.
"Turn 'em loose on the desert and they'd swim ashore somehow. Especially young Butler. He's quiet—he doesn't say much, but when he gets busy there's something doing. For sheer pluck he's got it over anything I ever saw—like a circus tent. Well, don't lose any sleep worrying about water. We'll catch a drop or two of dew out of a cactus plant some of these nights. See you in the morning. Good night," concluded the guide, rising and knocking the ashes from his pipe on his boot heel.
They had been working slowly toward the Death Valley region, and water was becoming more and more scarce as they proceeded. Indeed, the problem of where to find sufficient water for their needs had become a serious one. For the last three days all the water holes that the guide had depended upon to replenish their supply had failed them. What lay before them none knew.
When the camp awakened, late the next morning, the guide was nowhere to be seen. His pony likewise had disappeared. But they did not trouble themselves over Parry's absence, knowing that he had not left them without good reason and with many a sharp joke at each other's expense proceeded to get the breakfast ready. They had just sat down to the table when Tom Parry came riding in, covered with dust.
"Morning, boys. Fine day," he greeted, with his usual inscrutable smile, which might indicate either good or bad tidings.