Then utter unconsciousness of everything, which lasted without change
and as if the very calm, restful, painful end of all things had come.

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

A MULE'S SCENT.

Ned had much the same account to give as Chris of his sensations about
the waking up on hearing a loud snorting and splashing, accompanied by
the squealing of the mule and the rattling of the tubs and chain.

Sleep or stupor, whichever it was, the boys had kept their seats during
the night, and at early dawn when Chris opened his eyes, half startled
by the splashing, he saw what looked like a grey plain covered with
dried-up salt, stretching right away to a thick bank of what appeared to
be clouds.

Then as he sat staring wonderingly, he saw that the salt plain seemed to
be in motion, little waves passing away from where he sat; and then, as
the truth gradually dawned upon his misty brain, he slipped off his
pony, to stand knee-deep in water and begin to scoop up the soft cool
fluid and drink.

He had swallowed several mouthfuls before his brain grew clearer, and
then his first matter-of-fact un-dreamlike thought was of Ned, and he
cried aloud--

"Water, water!"

The answer was a gurgling sound from somewhere to the right, and turning
in that direction just as there was a tremendous splashing, he became
aware of the fact, dimly-seen in the grey dawn, that his companion was
also standing knee-deep and drinking; the ponies were calmly drawing in
the refreshing fluid between their slightly-parted lips, and the mule
was wallowing and trying to roll over, every now and then sending its
legs in the air, for them to come down again and raise quite a spray,
for the effort to turn right over was a failure, the two barrels secured
to the animal's back acting like buoys and keeping afloat.

The next moment, regardless of his clothes, Chris dropped upon his
knees, bent down till his lips were within touch of the water, and then
he drank, so it seemed to him, as he had never drunk before.

Breathless after a while he raised his head again.

"Ned! Oh, isn't it glorious!"

There was no reply, for his companion was now bending down and drinking
with avidity.

But at last he too raised his head at the same time that the mule ceased
splashing, stood up in the water, and gave itself a tremendous shake,
before lowering its muzzle and drinking like the mustangs.

"Ned!" cried Chris. "Why don't you say something?"

"I can't," was the repl