"Unsaddle and make camp," he directed tersely.
"Did you find what you expected?" asked Grace.
"Yes. I'll tell you about it as soon as we make camp."
"How's the water?" called Hippy.
"There isn't a drop in the tank, Lieutenant. Ping, you will give the ponies about a quart apiece from our supply, no more. We will stake down now."
Camp was quickly made and the bacon was frying over a small, flickering cook-fire a few moments afterward. Efforts to be merry at supper that night were a failure, and Hi Lang was unusually taciturn.
"May we hear the worst now, Mr. Lang?" asked Grace as they finished the meal.
"As I told you, there is no water in the tank, but the sand is still moist, showing that there was water there a short time since."
"Some one must have been rather dry," observed Hippy, but no one laughed at his humor.
"There probably was not much water left there after the party before us finished helping themselves, but there would have been sufficient for us if they had left the tank alone. They tampered with it, folks!"