turn it to his slicker when the
girl caught his arm.

"You didn't drink any!" she cried, but he overrode her protest.

"I ain't thirsty," he said almost gruffly. "You better catch you a
little rest, because as soon as we get these horses fixed up, we're goin'
to pull out of here." The girl assayed a protest, but Tex turned
abruptly away and the three fell to work removing the caked dust from the
eyes and nostrils of the horses, and rinsing out their mouths. When they
finished, Tex turned to Bat.

"How far d'you reckon it is to the water-hole?" he asked.

The half-breed shrugged: "Mebbe-so fi' mile, mebbe-so ten. I ain' know
dis place. A'm t'ink we los'."

"Lost!" snorted the Texan, contemptuously. "You're a hell of an Injun,
you are, to get lost in broad daylight in sight of the Bear Paws. I
ain't lost, if you are, an' I tell you we camp at that water-hole
tonight!"

Again the half-breed shrugged: "I ain' see no mountaine. I ain' see no
mooch daylight, neider. Too mooch de dam' dus'--too mooch san'--too
mooch de win' blow. If we com' by de water-hole, A'm t'ink dat dam'
lucky t'ing."

Tex regarded him with disapproval: "Climb onto your horse, old Calamity
Jane, an' we'll mosey along. A dry camp is better than this--at least
nobody can crawl around in their sleep an' drink a snifter of poison." He
helped Alice from the ground where she sat propped against a rock and
assisted her to mount, being careful to adjust the scarf over her nose
and mouth.

As the horses with lowered heads bored through the dust-storm the Texan
cursed himself unmercifully. "This is all your fault, you damned
four-flusher! You would run a girl--that girl, into a hole like this,
would you? You low-lived skunk, you! You think you're fit to marry her,
do you? Well, you ain't! You ain't fit to be mentioned in the same
language she is! You'll get 'em all out of here or, by God, you'll never
get out yourself--an' I'm right here to see that that goes! An' you'll
find that water-hole, too! An' after you've found it, an' got 'em all
out of this jack-pot, you'll h'ist up on your hind legs an' tell 'em the
whole damn facts in the case, an' if Win jumps in an' just naturally mops
up hell with you, it'll be just what you've got comin' to you--if he does
a good job, it will." Mile after mile the horses drifted before the
wind, heads hung low and ears drooping. In vain the Texan tried to
pierce the impenetrable pall of flying dust