quealing among the mules. Skeeter tramped on
with his bell going _clang_--_clang_--_clang_--_clang_, in accompaniment
to his steps, and the other mules followed as if walking like so many
shadows in their sleep, while the ponies seemed to follow their masters
like dogs, ready to accept every pat on the neck or word of
encouragement, and after raising their muzzles to the offered hand and
looking through the darkness appealingly, as if asking how long it would
be before they came to water.

Morning at last. A halt, packs lowered to the ground, each animal's
mouth washed out with about a pint of the precious fluid--water, and
then their ration given in the form of very stiff gruel.

All this carefully done before the breakfast was attacked.

"I don't call it a breakfast," grumbled Ned.

"No, I wouldn't," said Chris. "Cheer up; we haven't so far to go now as
we had yesterday morning."

"Well, I know that," snarled Ned, who seemed all on edge. Chris called
it gritty, and said it was the sand--to himself.

"He gets it on his temper," thought the boy. "How queer it is that
being hot and tired and thirsty makes any one so cross."

"Forward!" said the doctor at last, when the packs had been readjusted;
and the dreary tramp began again, with the sun getting hotter and hotter
every hour.

"Oh dear!" groaned Ned, as they tramped side by side, each with his hand
resting upon his pony's neck and holding on by the mane. "That
miserable tinful of water! Why, it was only half-a-pint, and it will be
hours before we're allowed any more. Why not let us have a pint all at
once?"

"Against the rules," said Chris. "You should have made believe, as I
did."

"Believe what?"

"No, I didn't believe it," said Chris; "I only played at it. I drank my
half-pint very slowly, and pretended it was a pint. You do the same the
next time."

"Not going to be such a fool," said Ned gruffly. "It's all too real to
play. Bother! Hang it! Yah! I wish there wasn't a scrap of gold in
the world."

"But there is, all the same. Come, cheer up, lad."

"Cheer down, you mean. It's getting worse and worse, and I don't
believe we shall ever get across this horrible plain. What is there to
be cheerful about?"

"Well, here's one thing--we've got away from the Indians. There isn't a
sign of them behind."

"Of course there isn't," grumbled Ned. "Indians are not such idiots as
to come across a place like this."

"Griggs says they d