The next moment, regardless of his clothes, Chris dropped upon his knees, bent down till his lips were within touch of the water, and then he drank, so it seemed to him, as he had never drunk before.
Breathless after a while he raised his head again.
“Ned! Oh, isn’t it glorious!”
There was no reply, for his companion was now bending down and drinking with avidity.
But at last he too raised his head at the same time that the mule ceased splashing, stood up in the water, and gave itself a tremendous shake, before lowering its muzzle and drinking like the mustangs.
“Ned!” cried Chris. “Why don’t you say something?”
“I can’t,” was the reply. And then: “I say, is it true, or only part of the long dream?”
“True, true!” cried Chris. “But look sharp. Let’s fill the barrels and get back to camp.”
“Hah!” ejaculated Ned in a long sigh. “Fill the barrels—get back. Yes, I’m beginning to be able to think now. My head felt all shut up and as if it wouldn’t go. We have found water, then.”
“Yes, and we’ve been drinking, and—What are you doing?”