ty soon, we'll be
thirstier yet, so we might as well fill up now."

"Illogical, but sensible," pronounced the professor, leading an eager
rush for the water canteens, which were carried on the pack burros.

"Here, hold on; that's enough!" cried Jack, as Ralph Stetson bent over
backward with the canteen still at his lips.

"Why, I haven't begun to drink yet," protested Ralph.

"Chaw on a bullet, son," advised Pete. "Thet's highly recommended for
the thirst."

"Water suits me better," grumbled Ralph, nevertheless yielding the
canteen to Jack. The lad drank sparingly, as did Pete and the others.
Ralph, alone, of all the party, appeared not to realize how very
precious even the little water that remained might become before long.

Refreshed even by the small quantity they had swallowed of the tepid
stuff, they remounted, and Pete clambered up upon his saddle. While
his pony stood motionless beneath him, he stood erect upon the leather
seat. From this elevation, he scanned the horizon on every side. Far
off to the southwest was sweeping a dun-colored curtain--the departing
sand-storm, but that was all. Otherwise, the desert was unchanged from
its previous aspect.

"Let me hev a look at thet thar compass," said Pete, resuming a sitting
posture once more.

Jack extended his wrist.

"The compass is all right, I know," he said confidently.

"And I know that we've bin hitting the right trail," declared Pete.
"Last time I come this way was with an old prospector who knew this
part of the country well enough to 'pick up' a clump of cactus. If
that compass is right, we're headed straight."

"Yes--if," put in the professor. "But are you quite sure it is?"

This was putting the matter in a new light. Not one of the party was
so ignorant as not to know that, in the many miles they had traveled,
the deflection of the needle, by even the smallest degree, might have
meant a disastrous error.

"Why, I--I--how can it help being right?" asked Jack, a little
uncertainly.

"Which side have you been carrying your revolver on?" asked the
professor.

"Why, you know--on the left side," rejoined Jack, with some surprise.

"And the compass on the left wrist?"

"Yes. Why? Isn't it----"

"No, it ain't!" roared Pete. "I see it all now, perfusser; that thar
shootin' iron has bin deflectin' ther needle."

"I fear so," rejoined the professor.

Under his direction, Jack moved the compass into various positions, and
at