nly a fresh breeze, squared away, and dropped down before the wind
toward Guaymas.

We walked back slowly to our camp, swallowing the copper taste of too
hard a run. Schwartz we picked up from a boulder, just recovering. We
were all of us crazy mad. Schwartz half wept, and blamed and cussed.
Denton glowered away in silence. I ground my feet into the sand in a
help less sort of anger, not only at the man himself, but also at the
whole way things had turned out. I don't believe the least notion of
our predicament had come to any of us. All we knew yet was that we had
been done up, and we were hostile about it.

But at camp we found something to occupy us for the moment. Poor Billy
was not dead, as we had supposed, but very weak and sick, and a hole
square through him. When we returned he was conscious, but that was
about all. His eyes were shut, and he was moaning. I tore open his
shirt to stanch the blood. He felt my hand and opened his eyes. They
were glazed, and I don't think he saw me.

"Water, water!" he cried.

At that we others saw all at once where we stood. I remember I rose to
my feet and found myself staring straight into Tom Denton's eyes. We
looked at each other that way for I guess it was a full minute. Then
Tom shook his head.

"Water, water!" begged poor Billy.

Tom leaned over him.

"My God, Billy, there ain't any water!" said he.

[4] Mulege--I retain the Old Timer's pronunciation.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

BURIED TREASURE

The Old Timer's voice broke a little. We had leisure to notice that
even the drip from the eaves had ceased. A faint, diffused light
vouchsafed us dim outlines of sprawling figures and tumbled bedding.
Far in the distance outside a wolf yelped.

We could do nothing for him except shelter him from the sun, and wet
his forehead with sea-water; nor could we think clearly for ourselves
as long as the spark of life lingered in him. His chest rose and fell
regularly, but with long pauses between. When the sun was overhead he
suddenly opened his eyes.

"Fellows," said he, "it's beautiful over there; the grass is so green,
and the water so cool; I am tired of marching, and I reckon I'll cross
over and camp."

Then he died. We scooped out a shallow hole above tide-mark, and laid
him in it, and piled over him stones from the wash.

Then we went back to the beach, very solemn, to talk it over.

"Now, boys," said I, "there seems to me just one thing t