"Come on," shouted Marcus, furious, turning back to McTeague. "Come on,
help me catch him. We got to catch him. All the water we got is on the
saddle."

McTeague came up.

"He's eatun some loco-weed," he repeated. "He went kinda crazy once
before."

"If he should take it into his head to bolt and keep on running----"

Marcus did not finish. A sudden great fear seemed to widen around and
inclose the two men. Once their water gone, the end would not be long.

"We can catch him all right," said the dentist. "I caught him once
before."

"Oh, I guess we can catch him," answered Marcus, reassuringly.

Already the sense of enmity between the two had weakened in the face of
a common peril. Marcus let down the hammer of his revolver and slid it
back into the holster.

The mule was trotting on ahead, snorting and throwing up great clouds of
alkali dust. At every step the canvas sack jingled, and McTeague's bird
cage, still wrapped in the flour-bags, bumped against the saddlepads. By
and by the mule stopped, blowing out his nostrils excitedly.

"He's clean crazy," fumed Marcus, panting and swearing.

"We ought to come up on him quiet," observed McTeague.

"I'll try and sneak up," said Marcus; "two of us would scare him again.
You stay here."

Marcus went forward a step at a time. He was almost within arm's length
of the bridle when the mule shied from him abruptly and galloped away.

Marcus danced with rage, shaking his fists, and swearing horribly. Some
hundred yards away the mule paused and began blowing and snuffing in the
alkali as though in search of feed. Then, for no reason, he shied again,
and started off on a jog trot toward the east.

"We've GOT to follow him," exclaimed Marcus as McTeague came up.
"There's no water within seventy miles of here."

Then began an interminable pursuit. Mile after mile, under the terrible
heat of the desert sun, the two men followed the mule, racked with a
thirst that grew fiercer every hour. A dozen times they could almost
touch the canteen of water, and as often the distraught animal shied
away and fled before them. At length Marcus cried:

"It's no use, we can't catch him, and we're killing ourselves with
thirst. We got to take our chances." He drew his revolver from its
holster, cocked it, and crept forward.

"Steady, now," said McTeague; "it won' do to shoot through the canteen."

Within twenty yards Marcus paused, made a rest of his left forearm and
fired.

"