“I guess that’s right; we’d better wait till they come and get a drink of it. I’d almost give my chances in the race for a big glass of lemonade right now.”
“Don’t talk of such things, you only make it worse,” groaned Harry. “Just plain ice water would do me fine. I could drink a whole cooler full of it.”
“Same here—but listen—here comes the auto.”
Sure enough the chug-chug of their escort was drawing near down the rough desert road.
“Say, fellows,” shouted both boys, as the auto rolled up, “how about a drink of water from the tank?”
“Gee whiz,” groaned Billy, “that’s just the trouble. There’s not a drop in it.”
“What, no water?” exclaimed Frank blankly.
“Not a drop, and Bart says we can’t get any here.”
“That’s right; we’ve investigated.”
“What are we going to do?”