ed and on the bottom of the hole he could see the round
shadows of their tracks. It was a new kind of water, with a skin that
would bend down and hold up the body of a wasp, and yet it seemed to
be wet. He thrust in a finger and the wasps flew away--and then he
dropped down and drank deep. When he woke from his madness the pool
was half empty and the water was running down his face. He was wet all
over and his lips were bleeding afresh, as if his very blood had been
dry; but his body was weak and sick, and as he rose to his feet he
tottered and fell down in the sand. When he roused up again the pool
was filled with water and the wasps were back, floating on its
surface.

When he looked around he was in a little cove, shut in by towering
walls; and, close against the cliff where the rock had been hollowed
out, he saw an abandoned camp. There were ashes between the stones, and
tin cans set on boxes, and a walled-in storage place behind, and as he
looked again he saw a man's tracks, leading down a narrow path to the
water. They turned off up the creek--high-heeled boots soled with
rawhide and bound about with thongs--and Wiley rushed recklessly at the
camp. When he had eaten last he could hardly remember, (it was a day or
two back at the best), and as he peered into cans and found them empty
he gave vent to a savage curse. He was weak, he was starving, and he had
thrown away his food--and this man had hidden what he had. He kicked
over the boxes and plunged into the store-room, throwing beans and flour
sacks right and left, and then in the corner behind a huge pile of pinon
nuts he found a single can of tomatoes.

Whoever had treasured it had kept it too long, for Wiley's knife was
already out and as he cut out the top he tipped it slowly up and drained
it to the bottom.

"Hey, there!" hailed a voice and Wiley started and laid down the can.
Was it possible the officers had followed him? "Throw up your hands!"
yelled the voice in a fury. "Throw 'em up, or I'll kill you, you
scoundrel!"

Wiley held up his hands, but he raised them reluctantly and the fighting
look crept back into his eyes.

"Well!" he challenged, "they're up--what about it?"

A tall man with a pistol stepped out from behind a tree and advanced
with his gun raised and cocked. His hair was hermit-long, his white
beard trembled, and his voice cracked and shrilled with helpless rage.

"What about it!" he repeated. "Well, by Jupiter, if you sass me, I'll