“Oh, if we could only drink all we want!” groaned Joe, hesitating to eat the beans that had been prepared. “Everything is so dry without water.”
But although the explorers were extremely anxious to come to the well, they gave full consideration to the midday rest. It would have meant destruction to ride under that terrible desert sun.
“Before long we’ll come to the well,” said Fekmah, as they prepared to continue the journey. “In an hour it be seen.”
“And how glad we’ll be,” muttered Bob, anticipating the pleasure of drinking a large quantity of the refreshing fluid.
The hour passed slowly. They were looking about now, searching among the many huge rocks.
Suddenly Tishmak halted abruptly, and the expression of hope that had been on his face changed to one of fear. He motioned for the others to move on up to where he was.
No translation of his excited words was necessary to the Americans. They understood his anxiety. The well was dry!
For a moment the explorers sank back, and fear—stark fear—seized them. Thoughts of disaster haunted their stricken brains—stories of how large trading caravans had been brought to a tragic end because of no water. It was torture unthinkable!
“And after all this waiting,” groaned Bob, his hope almost gone.