“I—I can’t yet,” panted Ned, who laughed more than ever, till Wilton gave the doctor and Bourne a sharp look, and then said aloud—
“Oh, let them laugh it out; but I say, are those some of the rattlesnakes coming after us?”
“Eh?” cried Ned, who was sobered in an instant, and sat up to exclaim, “Which way? Whereabouts?”
“I—I—I can’t help it if they do come,” gurgled out Chris. “Oh, father, plea–please stop me; it hurts. Gi–give me something—a drop of water.”
“Yes, the boy’s quite hysterical,” said the doctor. “Water. Ah! Where are the kegs?”
All looked round, but no kegs were visible. There was the mule that should have borne them, though, with the rough pack-saddle upon which they had been lashed one on each side, twisting its head round and striving to reach a fly that was busy at work depositing its eggs in the animal’s coat, the teeth being not long enough to scrape it out.
“Why, the water-kegs have gone!” cried the doctor wildly.
“Here, catch hold of the mule, somebody,” cried Griggs, and Chris was sobered in an instant, for the water represented life to all, and it was no time for laughing then.