“Do you want to quarrel?” cried Wilton, clapping his hand to his revolver-holster.
“Certainly not with a man half mad with thirst,” said the doctor quietly. “Come, Wilton, be reasonable.”
“Reasonable! Are we not all half dead with thirst?”
“Suffering, not half dead,” replied the doctor, who noted that Bourne and Griggs had moved a little nearer to their angry companion. “Now, look here, we want your cool consideration of our position. We have water a few hundred yards away.”
“What! Where?”
“In the kegs, which lie where I told you.”
“Oh, there!” cried Wilton contemptuously. “We don’t want that, but some big clear flowing spring such as I offer to risk my life to find.”
“Risk your life in another way,” said the doctor firmly.
“How?”
“Go and fetch in the kegs from where they are lying.”