In the forenoon of the fifth day they came to Malapai Springs. Here The Three Bad Men drank deeply, bathed, filled their canteens and stepped blithely out for Terrapin Tanks, the next water-hole—a little-known and consequently unfrequented spot—where they could rest for a few days before attempting the last desperate leg of their journey to the railroad.
“Don't stint yourself on the water. Bill,” The Worst Bad Man advised as they departed from Malapai Springs. “There's always water at Terrapin Tanks.” Nevertheless, with the instinct of the desert-bred, The Worst Bad Man and The Youngest Bad Man were sparing with the water themselves, although careful to conceal this fact from The Wounded Bad Man. The latter's shoulder was swollen and inflamed, and it was a relief to him if the bandages were kept wet.
The Worst Bad Man, who knew the country better than his companions, had timed their arrival at Terrapin Tanks almost to the hour. The sun was just coming up over the low red hummocks of hematite to the eastward when The Three Bad Men plodded wearily up a long, dry canon, turned a sharp, rocky promontory into an arroyo—and paused.
Borne on the slight desert breeze a sound came to them from up the arroyo. It was a mournful, wailing cry and ended in a sob—a sound that bespoke pain and fear and misery.
The Three Bad Men looked at one another. Each held up an index finger, enjoining silence. A second, a third time the sound was repeated.
“It's a human voice,” announced The Worst Bad Man, “an' there's death in it. Wait here. I'm goin' in to see what's up.”
When he had gone The Youngest Bad Man, after the restless and inquisitive manner of youth, climbed a tall rock and gazed up the arroyo.
“I see the top of a covered wagon,” he announced.
“Then,” said The Wounded Bad Man, “It's a tenderfoot outfit, an' that's a woman cryin'. No desert rat'd come here with a wagon. Fools drive in where burros fear to tread. Bob. They're tenderfeet.”
“That's right,” agreed The Youngest Bad Man. “Some nester come in over the trail from Imperial Valley and bound for New Jerusalem, I'll bet a new hat.”