, its base
uplifted in clear, mirrored reflection.

The second half of the day was as unbroken by speech or incident as the
morning. They had nothing to say, as dry of thought as they were
despoiled of energy. The shadows were beginning to lengthen when they
came to a fork in the trail. One branch bore straight westward, the
other slanted toward the south, and both showed signs of recent travel.
Following them to the distance was like following the tracks of
creeping things traced on a sandy shore. Neither led to
anything--sage, dust, the up-standing combs of rocky reefs were all the
searching eye could see till sight lost itself in the earth's curve.
The girl and the two men stood in the van of the train consulting. The
region was new to Courant, but they left it to him, and he decided for
the southern route.

For the rest of the afternoon they followed it. The day deepened to
evening and they bore across a flaming level, striped with gigantic
shadows. Looking forward they saw a lake of gold that lapped the roots
of rose and lilac hills. The road swept downward to a crimsoned butte,
cleft apart, and holding in its knees a gleam of water. The animals,
smelling it, broke for it, tearing the wagon over sand hummocks and
crackling twigs. It was a feeble upwelling, exhausted by a single
draught. Each beast, desperately nosing in its coolness, drained it,
and there was a long wait ere the tiny depression filled again.
Finally, it was dried of its last drop, and the reluctant ooze stopped.
The animals, their thirst half slaked, drooped about it, looking with
mournful inquiry at the disturbed faces of their masters.

It was a bad sign. The men knew there were waterless tracts in the
desert that the emigrant must skirt. They mounted to the summit of the
butte and scanned their surroundings. The world shone a radiant floor
out of which each sage brush rose a floating, feathered tuft, but of
gleam or trickle of water there was none. When they came down David
lay beside the spring his eyes on its basin, now a muddied hole, the
rim patterned with hoof prints. When he heard them coming he rose on
his elbow awaiting them with a haggard glance, then seeing their blank
looks sank back groaning. To Susan's command that a cask be broached,
Courant gave a sullen consent. She drew off the first cupful and gave
it to the sick man, his lean hands straining for it, his fingers
fumbling in a search for the handle. The lea