CHAPTER II
WATER
All round him for miles each way the water-holes had gone dry. Thelittle canon stream still wound down its shaded course, disappearing ina patch of sand at the canon's mouth, so the prospector felt secure.None had ridden out to look for him through that furnace of burning sandthat stretched between the hills and the desert town.
The stream dwindled slowly, imperceptibly.
One morning the prospector noticed it, and immediately explored thecreek clear to its source--a spurt of water springing from the roof of agrotto in the cliff. Such a supply, evidently from the rocky heart ofthe range itself, would be inexhaustible.
A week later he awoke to find the creek-bed dry save in a fewdepressions among the rocks. He again visited the grotto. The place wasdamp and cool, glistening with beads of moisture, but the flow from theroof-crevice had ceased. Still he thought there must be plenty of waterbeneath the rocks of the stream-bed. He would dig for it.
Another week, and he became uneasy. The stream had disappeared as thoughpoured into a colossal crevice. A few feet below the gravel he strucksolid rock. He tried dynamite unsuccessfully. Then he hoarded thedrippings from the grotto crevice till he had filled his canteen.Carefully he stowed his gold in a chamois pouch and prepared to leavethe canon. His burro had strayed during the week of drought--wasprobably dead beside some dry water-hole.
The prospector set out to cross the range in the light of the stars.
Fearful that he might be seen, panic warped his reasoning. He planned tojourney south along the foothills, until opposite the desert town andthen cross over to it. If he approached from such a direction, no onewould guess his original starting-place. He knew of an unfailingwater-hole two days' journey from the canon. This water-hole was far outof his way, but his canteen supply would more than last till he reachedit.
Then Fate, the fate that had dogged his every step since first heventured into the solitudes, closed up and crept at his heels. He becamemore morose and strangely fearful. His vision, refined by the wasting ofhis body, created shadows that lay about his feet like stagnant pools,shadows where no shadows should be.
Ominous was his fall as he crossed an arroyo. The canteen, slung overhis shoulder, struck a sharp point of rock that started one of theseams. The leak was infinitesimal. The felt cover of the canteenabsorbed the drip, which evaporated. When he arrived at the water-hole,_that_ was dry. His canteen felt strangely light. He could not rememberhaving used so much water. He changed his plan. He struck straight fromthe hills toward the railroad. He knew that eventually he would, as hejourneyed west, cross it, perhaps near a water-tank.
Toward the blinding afternoon of that day he saw strange lakes and poolsspread out upon the distant sand and inverted mountain ranges stretchingto the horizon.
Fate crept closer to his heels, waiting with the dumb patience of thedesert to claim the struggling, impotent puppet whose little day was allbut spent.
He stumbled across the blazing bars of steel that marked the railroad.His empty canteen clattered on the ties as he fell. He got to his kneesand dragged himself from the track. He laughed, for he had thwarted Fatethis once; he would not be run over by the train. He lay limp, wasted,scarcely breathing.
Serenely Fate crouched near him, patient, impassive....
He heard a man speak and another answer. He felt an arm beneath hishead, and water.... Water!
He drank, and all at once his strength flamed up. It was not water theygave him; it was merely the taste of it--a mockery. He wanted more ...all!
He lurched to his feet, struggling with a bearded giant that held himfrom his desire--to drink until he could drink no more--to die drinkingthe water they had taken from him even as they gave it. He foughtblindly. Fate, disdaining further patience, arose and flung itself abouthis feet. He stumbled. A flash wiped all things from his vision and thelong night came swiftly.
Overland Red: A Romance of the Moonstone Cañon Trail Page 3
