Each individual in our party possessed a
three-pint army canteen, which had been filled when we forded the
creek in the early dawn. These were to last us until evening, through
an exceedingly sultry day. Frank, Henry, and I did our best to
overcome our desire for water, but the younger boy could not refuse
the appeals of Vic, when she looked up with lolling tongue and
beseeching eyes to the canteens.
The men were the greatest sufferers, unless I except their horses.
Long before mid-day their canteens were empty and their mouths so dry
that articulation was difficult and they rarely spoke.
At five we arrived opposite the third spur, where we found a wand
sticking in the ground and holding in its cleft end a slip of paper.
It proved to be a note from Mr. Hudson, saying that this was the place
to camp, and the Black Tanks were on the southern side of the spur,
three miles distant.
In a few minutes, with the horses and mules divested of saddles,
bridles, and harnesses, leaving two men behind to guard the property
and collect fuel for a fire, we were on the way to water.
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