"Done for?" murmured the other, looking about stupidly. "Done for, that's the word. Done for? Yes, I guess we're done for."
"What are we going to do NOW?" exclaimed Marcus, sharply, after a while.
"Well, let's — let's be moving along — somewhere."
"WHERE, I'd like to know? What's the good of moving on?"
"What's the good of stopping here?"
There was a silence.
"Lord, it's hot," said the dentist, finally, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. Marcus ground his teeth.
"Done for," he muttered; "done for."
"I never WAS so thirsty," continued McTeague. "I'm that dry I can hear my tongue rubbing against the roof of my mouth."
"Well, we can't stop here," said Marcus, finally; "we got to go somewhere. We'll try and get back, but it ain't no manner of use. Anything we want to take along with us from the mule? We can—"