"YAH, BLENTY VATERS. DOAN NEED TO DAKE NO VATERS ALONG."
"Yah, blenty vaters," said the man. "Doan need to dake no vaters along."
"Any houses on the road?" asked Jack.
"Blenty houses," answered the stranger—"houses, vaters, efferydings."
We thanked him and started. Notwithstanding this assurance, I had intended to fill a jug with water, but forgot it, and we went off without a drop. We were going down what was called the Ridge Road, along the divide between Elk and Elder creeks, and hoped to reach the crossing of the Cheyenne at Smithville Post-office that evening, and get on the Reservation the next morning. In half an hour we passed some trees which marked the site of the Washday Springs, but there was no house there, nor had we seen one at eleven o'clock. We met an Indian on foot, and Jack said to him,
"Where can we get some water?"
The Indian shook his head, "Cheyenne River," he replied.
"Isn't there any this side?"
"No," with another jerk of the head. Then he stalked on.