“Water, got any water, Pugh?”
“No, jist drained the last drop.”
Hicks walked down the ravine. “Anybody got any water to spare?”
No one had. No one had any water. He walked back beside Pugh. As he approached, Pugh called:
“Oh, Hicksy, you’d better go over and ask them Dutchmen for another gun. One of their shells swiped that pretty one you had up here.”
The Maxim which Hicks had diligently striven to get into shape was gone—where, no one knew.
“I don’t care. If they come over now I wouldn’t have strength enough to pull a trigger. I’m all in, Pugh.”
Fearfully the men waited for the attack. It grew dark, but none came. Out in the field a cow slowly moved across the broken ground. In the dusk Lieutenant Bedford was stumbling along the ravine, calling for volunteers to go on a water detail.
From one of the holes King Cole’s voice croaked: “I’ll go, lieutenant. I’ll go.” He sounded like a bullfrog.
“I’ll go, too; be glad to,” Hicks offered.