THE CAMP IN THE POCKET
Under the guidance of the Mexican dwarf, the four boys came at last to a halt. It seemed as if the canyon down which they had been riding had come to an end for there was a wall of rock directly in front of them.
"Down there, Senor, is a pool of clear water," announced the Mexican.
"Glad to hear it, Manuel," said Jim heartily.
"Did you ever see a picture, Jim," put in Juarez significantly, "of a pool where the thirsty animals have to come to drink and before they get their noses in the water the hunter shoots them?"
But nothing of this dire nature happened and in a few minutes the famished animals were pumping the delicious water down their long, baked throats.
"My Gracious, but that tastes good!" cried Tom, drawing in a long, gasping breath, after he had been drinking steadily for about a minute. "It makes my head swim."
"I should think it would," said Jo, sarcastically, "considering the amount you have drunk."
"You weren't far behind," grumbled Tom. "I thought that you were not going to leave enough for the horses."
"I don't especially like this place to camp in," said Jim. "We are not accustomed to get in a pocket like this. But it is too late to pull out tonight and the horses need a rest, so we will keep guard."