With the slower pace our spirits fell and our thirst
increased. As Private Tom Clary expressed it to the driver:
"In a place like this a gallon of Black Tanks water would be
acciptible without a strainer, and no reflictions passed upon the
wigglers."
"That's so, Tom," called Henry, from the depths of his blankets; "I
could drink two quarts of it--half and half."
"Half and half--what do you mean?" I asked.
"Half water and half wigglers," was the answer.
"I thought you were asleep."
"Can't sleep, sir; I'm too thirsty. Did drop off once for two or three
minutes, and dreamed of rivers, waterfalls, springs, and wells that I
could not reach."
"I've not slept at all," said Frank; "just been thinking whether I
ever rode over a mile in Vermont without crossing a brook or passing a
watering-trough."
"It's beginning to grow light in the east," observed the driver. "By
the time we reach the top of the next roll we can see whether we are
near the Wells."
"You may stop the team, Marr," said I; "we will wait for the escort to
close up.
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