The Press., 1896-07-30

stubbornly, inch by inch, to the end. But this menace appalled, them.
 Dick looked about him, toward the four points of the compass. Everywhere was the same brown desert. the sage and the cactus, and the sky like bur nished brass above But anything was better than this inaction. Mechanically he went to work, placing the panniers upon the pack animals and loading the goods into them.
 Easton came toward him and protest ed petulantly.
 "It's no use, Dick, tell you. We might as well die here"
 "We will try. If we can hold out ten hours"-
 Easton finally gave some assistance in making ready, but he worked as one al ready walking in the shadow of death. After this they wasted no words Si- lently they rode on into the arid waste. The sun scorched and burned them. The beasts plodded on, taking their own gait, their tongues lolling. The eyes of the men grew more bloodshot. Their mouths were open to catch any passing breath of cooling air, but instead only the stifaing dust of the alkaN plain came to them. The hours passed, and 1t was high noon. They reeled, sick and dizzy, iu their saddles. Then a cry broke hoarsely from Dicks parched throat.
 Easton looked up to see what had caused it. His companion was pointing straight ahead and urging his beast to a | faster pace. Right ahead, so close that | it made his heart beat faster to think how close, was a clump of green timber, 0 sure sign of water. There was an in- stant glcam of hope in his face, but it changed again us soon into deepest de- lection. Dick saw this. II know" he said; "it is not so near as it seems, but it is not so very far away. We can reach | it."
 He urged his beast forward again with | feverish impatience.
 Easton shook his head independently. "It is cheat," he said, "u mirage. It is where we drank last night"
 Dick turned upon him incredulously. Then his face grew still more grave and haggard as the conviction camo to him that his companions mind had gone Easton interpreted his thought.
 "Look at the beasts, he said. eff there was water, they would scent it. '
 The animals were plodding on with unvarying step, heads down and tongues lolIing as they had been from the start. At this Dicks heart sank as it had not before since the day began. But still he urged forward with grim persistence. The hours dragged wearily on, and the men grew more weak and faint, more parched and burned by the unpitying sun. They had ceased to look about them and could only cling to their sad dies and let the beasts carry them for ward. About the middle of the after noon they came painfully to the top of a small sand hill that brought them into strong relief against the horizon. As they paused for a moment before begin ming the descent a faint, far cry broke upon the silence. The men turned weary eyes upon each other 'questioningly, but their throats would let them make nc sound now beyond 0 mere deathlike rat tie.
 The cry was repeated, louder anC nearer. They looked and saw hOrsemal riding up the knoll As he neared then his pace increased, and he waved hi arms and shouted wildly. Throwing himself from his horse, he ran to Easto1 and flung his arms about him with ev cry manifestation of joy. Then, looking in his face and seeing the story that wal written there, he started back to hi horse, seized a water bottle that hung from the sad Idle and pressed it into Eas tons hands. The old man took dee1 draft, and new life came into his eyes nI he thrust the bottle to Dick.
 The water speedily gave each man { new lease of life, and turning his atten tion to their rescuer Dick perceived { young Indian, whom he at once guessed to be the Apache boy of whom Eastor had told him. The first words of the latter confirmed this
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