es, it's all gone. How about coffee, boys?"
"And you, Mundy? How about you?" Conniston called, quickly. "Do you
want to keep your job at the wages I offered you yesterday? Or shall I
put another man in your place? Quick, man! Speak up!"
Mundy hesitated, glancing at Ben before he answered. And then slowly
he stepped out to where the Lark already stood.
"I'll keep my job," he grunted, sullenly.
"Please, sir," grinned the Lark, shaking his hand high above his head
like a ragged urchin in school, "kin I go git a drink? Water, I mean,"
he finished with widening grin.
"Yes," answered Conniston, trying to keep from his eyes the gladness
which was surging up within him. "Come this way first. There--stop.
Now throw your gun toward me. You've got some sense. Now go get your
water."
Ben came forward; and slowly, reluctantly, with evil, red-rimmed eyes,
Peters. And, as the Lark had done, they tossed their revolvers to the
sand near Conniston's wagon and trudged off toward the nearest
water-wagon. A dozen men followed them. Gradually the line broke up as
the call of water grew imperative to parched throats.
From the corner of his eye Conniston saw these men go to the first
wagon, tilt up the barrels, and go to the next. And suddenly he heard
a great shout go up from them--a shout no longer of anger, but of
sheer surprise.
In the bottom of every barrel there was an auger-hole. There was not a
single drop of water in camp!
In a flash of inspiration Conniston saw the thing which he must say.
"Who wants to go to work for Swinnerton now?" he cried. "You know
whose work this is; you know who is trying to block every move we
make. You know as well as I do that it was Swinnerton, or one of the
men working for Swinnerton, the same man who got Bat Truxton drunk,
who has given you your whisky--and taken away your chasers! And you
know as well as I do how many miles it is to water."
The rest of the men had flung down their guns and rushed to the empty
barrels. Already the burning thirst engendered by the raw, vile whisky
was making them lick their dry lips, making their throats work
painfully. They pulled over barrel after barrel, seeking to find that
somewhere there was a cupful of water. And they found none.
"It's Swinnerton's gang you have to thank for this, boys," Conniston
shouted again, seeing and taking his opportunity. "Swinnerton, who
wants to break us like a rotten stick. He will be a millionaire many
times
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