"It'll be a heap difficulter task, ef we don't hit water purty soon," retorted the cow-puncher.
Thus admonished, Professor Wintergreen divested himself of his weapons, and, taking out a small notebook, began, with the compass before him, to make some calculations. At the end of ten minutes or so, he raised his head.
"Well?" asked Jack eagerly.
"Well," rejoined the professor, "it's not as bad as it might be. We are, according to my reckoning, about twenty-five miles farther to the south than we should be."
He consulted his notebook once more.
"The bearings of the mesa require us to travel in that direction." He indicated a point to the northward of where they were halted.
"And it's twenty-five miles, you say?" asked Pete.
"About that. It may be more, and again it may be less."
"Waal, the less it is, ther better it'll suit yours truly. This stock is jes' about tuckered."
With the professor now bearing the compass, they set out once more, this time taking the direction indicated by the man of science.