"Well?" asked Peggy, and she and her brother hung on the answer.
Alverado's face became overcast by a black look. His eyes glowed like two live coals.
"I think then I never forget that track. I think the same to-day.
The pony that made that track was ridden by Red Bill."
CHAPTER XIV
LOST!
Good news awaited them on their return to the camp in the arroyo. Mr. Bell and Jimsy, while working in a desultory fashion on the vein while awaiting their return, had struck what is known in desert parlance as a water-pocket. They had at once set to work excavating a fair-sized hole in the floor of the mine tunnel, and by the way in which the water gushed in it appeared as if there was a plentiful supply to draw upon.
It is hard to convey how much this bit of news raised their spirits.
"Isn't it queer to think how just finding a little water will make you feel good out here, while at home all we had to do was to turn a faucet and we got all we wanted and never dreamed of being thankful for it," observed Jess philosophically.
"Wish we could strike an ice-cream soda pocket," observed Jimsy, who was vigorously scouring the dust off his classic lineaments. "Say, girls, how would you like right now to hear the cool, refreshing 'fiz-z-z-z' of a fountain, and then hear the ice clink-clinking against the sides of a tall glass of say—lemonade or—"
"Jimsy Bancroft, if you say any more we'll duck you head first in that water hole," said Peggy with decision.