It was hard to keep up hopes in these distressful hours.
California had again receded. The desert and the mountains were yet to
pass. The immediate moment hemmed them in so closely that it was an
effort to look through it and feel the thrill of joys that lay so far
beyond. It was better to focus their attention on the lone
promontories that cut the distance and gradually grew from flat
surfaces applied on the plain to solid shapes, thick-based and shadow
cloven.
They made their noon camp at a spring, bubbling from a rim of
white-rooted grass. David refused to take anything but water, groaning
as he sat up in the wagon and stretching a hot hand for the cup that
Susan brought. The men paid no attention to him. They showed more
concern for the sick horse, which when not incapacitated did its part
with good will, giving the full measure of its strength. That they
refrained from open anger and upbraiding was the only concession they
made to the conventions they had learned in easier times. Whether
David cared or not he said nothing, lying fever-flushed, his wandering
glance held to attention when Susan's face appeared at the canvas
opening.
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