save when necessity drove him
to short, sharp, savage commands.

Again and again he forgot what it was that he was doing, forgot the
ditches which were branching off from the main canal, right and left,
as his eyes ran out across the sun-blistered sands, as his fancies ran
ahead of them, searching, searching, searching--and half afraid to
find what they sought. He had seen the questing riders push farther
and farther into the desert, had seen them drop out of sight. Now they
were gone; no moving dot told him where their search had taken them,
what they had found. In the middle of an order he found himself
breaking off and turning again to the north, looking for the return of
the party, hoping to see the men waving their hats that all was well,
straining his ears for their reassuring shouts. And the desert, vast,
illimitable, threatening, mysterious, full of dim promise, full of
vague threats, gave no sign.

At eleven o'clock he saw one of the men returning. Why one man alone?
What would be the word which he was bringing? His heart beat thickly.
His throat was very dry. He felt a quick pain through it as he tried
to swallow. He lifted his head, and his eyes asked the question of the
man who had jerked in his sweating horse at his side. The rider shook
his head.

"Nothin'--we ain't found nothin' yet. Mundy sent me back. He says to
tell you they're about ten mile out now, an' the hosses is gettin'
done up for water. He says will you send a water-wagon or will you
send out a fresh party?"

Conniston's heart leaped at the man's first word. He knew then how he
had feared to know what they had found. And then it sank as fear
surged higher into it. They had not found her yet--already she had
been gone a whole day, a whole night, half the second day--

"Get a fresh horse and go back," he said, when the man waited for an
answer. "Tell Mundy that I am starting a six-horse wagon, carrying
water, right away. Tell him to keep on looking. You men keep close
enough together for the most part to be able to hear a gun fired from
the man nearest you. I'll send the wagon due north. You can pick it up
by the tracks."

The man rode away, and Conniston strode to the office.

"Tommy"--and his voice was steady and determined--"you'll have to get
into a buggy and watch the work this afternoon. I've got the men
started--and now I am going to her."

"All right, Greek," Garton answered, gently. "I can keep things
going."

Conniston tur