The sun sank below the horizon, and a pleasant coolness flowed over the landscape. Now in the twilight the freighter outfit had halted, and bunched. Going to make camp? No--there it started again. Pshaw! But no--some of it had remained: not the wagons, but several of the loose stock, and two men, and a heap of stuff. "Hurrah!" gasped Harry. "That's enough. Enough for us." Duke and Jenny were trying to break into a gallop, and their owners had hard work to keep up. The party at the camp had seen them coming, and were pausing in their camp-making to stare. Now at a staggering lope and trot the Pike's Peak Limited fairly charged in--would have run right over the camp had not the two men there rushed out and waved their arms and shouted. The camp was on the edge of a muddy creek course. That was what ailed Duke and Jenny; only by main force could they be held back. "What's the matter? Plumb crazed?" scolded one of the men. "Their critters are plumb crazed, don't you see?" reproved the other. "Unhook 'em and let 'em go, or they'll drag cart and all in." Harry hustled, Terry hustled, the men helped--and on sprang Duke and Jenny, into the mud, into the water, to drink, and gulp, and drink again, and stand there, belly deep, soaking. Terry yearned mightily to join them, but Harry was more polite. "Whar you from? You look nigh tuckered out, yourselves," accused one of the men. "So we are," gasped Harry. "We're down to our last drop--we've a man aboard the cart who's worse off still--picked him up this morning. But I can't talk till I have a drink." "Never mind the creek; it's too roily. We've a barrel full." And the other man promptly passed over a brimming dipper. Harry took it; his hand trembled. "You first, Terry," he said. Terry shook his head. "We'll take turns," he proposed. "You drink and then I'll drink." Ah, but that water, warmish and brackish, was good! Together they emptied the dipper, and at once emptied another--and by this time the two men had lifted the boy from the cart and were attending to him, also. He was too weak to talk, but he seemed to know, and smiled when he likewise had drained a dipper. "Give him a little broth, later," grunted one of the men. "He had a narrow squeak, I reckon. Mustn't overfeed him. We'll stew him some buff'ler meat. 'Xpec' you fellers are hungry, yourselves, by this time." "Haven't eaten all day," laughed Harry, in spirits again. "But where are we? We're looking for the stage line, and the Republican." "You aren't near the Republican yet, by a long shot. But this is a stage station, all right. Fust stages will be through tomorrow and after that two at a time every day, till the trail's well broken. We're part of the supply outfit. It drops some of us off every so far along the line, ahead of the stages, so we'll have meals and lodgin' and a change of mules ready. You needn't do much unpackin'; we've grub enough, and you can bunk with us and put that sick boy in the tent."