“But then we shan’t know where to get water.”
“It can’t be far to the mouth of the cañon above the village, and we’re almost sure to find water there.”
“I don’t see how I’m going to stand it, Sid. I’d go back to the jail if I could have a good drink.”
“You see, Ray, it’s not just a question of going back to the jail. We can’t tell what they would do with us for killing the bandits. I don’t know of any way we could prove we did it in self-defense.”
“Well, I almost wish that policeman would find us; that would settle it.”
“I’m surprised he hasn’t,” said Sidney, “but I think he must have believed that we went back to Timour Khan Shoura. And I think, too, that he was trying to work a little private graft of his own. I don’t believe he reported that we got out. He probably went back on the road to try to overtake and rob us.”
“And here we’ve had to stay all day,” growled Raymond, “with water in the house right below us. I’ve a good mind to go down there now and get a drink.” For the thought of the possible water so near was almost more than the boy could endure.
“It won’t be long now, Ray,” said Sidney encouragingly; “see, it’s almost dark down in the valley now. You’ve been too fine the last few days to give up just because you’re thirsty.”
“Let’s stop talking about it, Sid,” groaned Raymond. “It makes me wild to think of water.” And Raymond took up the endless tramp again to wear away the time.