"I noticed this morning that some of the ponies were pretty gaunt in the flanks."
"Regular scarecrows. We've got to make an organized search for a tank, and the sooner we begin the better off we'll be—or the worse," added the guide under his breath. "If we fail, we'll ride all night, taking the back trail. We ought to hold out long enough to reach the last water hole we left. Though even that may be dried up by the time we get to it."
"Then you want us to spread out, as it were, and cover all the territory about here?" questioned Tad.
"That's it. You've caught the idea."
Professor Zepplin shook his head.
"I don't like the idea. The boys will be lost."
"They mustn't, that's all," replied the guide, with a firm setting of the lips. "I think we can arrange so they will find their way back to camp all right. Listen! This is my plan. Master Tad will ride west, due west. Master Ned, on the other hand, will proceed east, and I'll go south. Each of us will ride as far as he can until noon. If by then none of us has found any trace of water, we'll all turn about and hurry hack to camp."
"Yes, but how do you expect the boys to find their way hack?" demanded Professor Zepplin.
"I'm coming to that. To begin with, I'm going to splice the ridge poles of the tents together, making a flagpole of them. On this we'll tie a shirt or something, planting the pole on the top of that ridge there. While the boys will be too far away to see it from where they should be by twelve o'clock, they can get near enough, by using their watches as compasses, so they can pick it up. Each one will take a rifle with him, and in the event of finding water he is to remain there, firing off the gun at frequent intervals."
"What'll we be doing here all the time?" interrupted Walter.