st he came to the spring itself he found
it as dry as a last year's seedpod.

Until this instant the day's adventure had been merely the acme of
unpleasantness. Now something more sinister entered into it. He made
certain that he had found the place where the water-hole should be.
Then he sat down. His eyes were very grave.

'If I don't play this hand right,' he told himself solemnly, 'I'll
never get out of this.'

He found a few breast-high bushes and crawled into their thin shade and
lay down; before him he spread out the Quigley storekeeper's map. This
he studied with thoughtful eyes. The storekeeper had said it would be
no trick at all for a man like Howard to make the trip, but he had
meant Howard on horseback. On foot it became quite another matter.
The next spot where he should find water was some twenty miles ahead of
him; at the rate he had travelled this morning it would take him some
eight hours to come to it. Further, at the rate he had drank from his
canteen this morning, that canteen would be empty when he had gone half
the distance. Clearly, he must drink less water, just half what he had
drank during the last four hours. Clearly also, it would grow hotter
and he would want more instead of less water. Clearly again--and here
was the point of points--when he came to the twenty-mile-distant
water-hole, it too might be dry. And, after that, there was not
another spring for another twelve or fifteen miles. Yes, many things
were clear.

He sat up and rolled a cigarette; he sat still while he smoked it.
Here was plainly a time for cool thinking; he would take all of the
time that he needed to be sure that he had decided correctly. For
later there might be no minute to squander. At present he had both
food and water. At present he could go on or turn back. There was
water where he had left his saddle; he could count on that positively
and could get to it before he had emptied his canteen. But, if instead
he went forward, there could be no turning back. He studied his map
again. So far as he could make out from it, it was as well to go on as
to retreat. So, putting his paper into his pocket he took up his food
and water, made certain of his bearings and went on. It was a gamble,
but a gamble his life had always been, and a fair gamble, an even
break, is all that men like Alan Howard ask. He realized with a full
measure of grimness that never until now had he placed a wager like
this one