The waves were much
bigger than she was, and splashed on us considerable, but Schwartz and
Anderson didn't seem to mind. They laughed at us. Anderson sang that
song of his, and Schwartz told us of the placers he had worked. He and
Simpson had made a pretty good clean-up, just enough to make them want
to get rich. The first day out Simpson showed us a belt with about an
hundred ounces of dust. This he got tired of wearing, so he kept it in
a compass-box, which was empty.

At the end of the four days we turned in at a deep bay and came to
anchor. The country was the usual proposition--very light-brown,
brittle-looking mountains, about two thousand feet high; lots of sage
and cactus, a pebbly beach, and not a sign of anything fresh and green.

But Denton and I were mighty glad to see any sort of land. Besides,
our keg of water was pretty low, and it was getting about time to
discover the spring the chart spoke of. So we piled our camp stuff in
the small boat and rowed ashore.

Anderson led the way confidently enough up a dry arroyo, whose sides
were clay and conglomerate. But, though we followed it to the end, we
could find no indications that it was anything more than a wash for
rain floods.

"That's main queer," muttered Anderson, and returned to the beach.

There he spread out the chart--the first look at it we'd had--and set
to studying it.

It was a careful piece of work done in India ink, pretty old, to judge
by the look of it, and with all sorts of pictures of mountains and
dolphins and ships and anchors around the edge. There was our bay, all
right. Two crosses were marked on the land part--one labelled "oro"
and the other "agua."

"Now there's the high cliff," says Anderson, following it out, "and
there's the round hill with the boulder--and if them bearings don't
point due for that ravine, the devil's a preacher."

We tried it again, with the same result. A second inspection of the
map brought us no light on the question. We talked it over, and looked
at it from all points, but we couldn't dodge the truth: the chart was
wrong.

Then we explored several of the nearest gullies, but without finding
anything but loose stones baked hot in the sun.

By now it was getting towards sundown, so we built us a fire of
mesquite on the beach, made us supper, and boiled a pot of beans.

We talked it over. The water was about gone.

"That's what we've got to find first," said Simpson, "no question