"This was not taken," decided the Lieutenant, after a tactical meditation. "This must have been abandoned by its inhabitants. Pestilence, or starvation, or migration."
"We can beat off all the Apaches in New Mexico," observed Coronado, with something like cheerfulness.
"We can whip everything but our own stomachs," replied Thurstane.
"We have as much food as those devils."
"But water?" suggested the forethoughted West Pointer.
It was a horrible doubt, for if there was no water in the enclosure, they were doomed to speedy and cruel death, unless they could beat the Indians in the field and drive them away from the rivulet.
CHAPTER XX.
When Thurstane came out of the Casa Grande he would have given some years of his life to know that there was water in the enclosure.
Yet so well disciplined was the soul of this veteran of twenty-three, and so thoroughly had he acquired the wise soldierly habit of wearing a mask of cheer over trouble, that he met Clara and Mrs. Stanley with a smile and a bit of small talk.