"We will. Many a man has died of thirst in the desert, with plenty of water not twenty feet away. Some men are born without brains, Phil. Others have brains, but never use them, but I am egotistical enough to think that I have some brains, at least, and some will and capacity to use them. Now I’ve thrown up a pretty good pile of sand there, and I’m growing tired. You take that shovel and see what you can do, but make it a wide hole. You don’t want a ton of sand caving in on you." Phil took the shovel and worked with energy. John and Arenberg with tin cups also leaped down into the hole and helped as much as they could. As the sand was soft they descended fast, and Phil suddenly uttered a shout. He drew up a shovelful of wet sand, and, after that, sand yet wetter. "That will do," said Breakstone a minute or two later. "Stand aside now and watch the water come into our well." They had reached an underground seepage or soakage, draining from the higher ground above, and slowly a pool of water gathered at the bottom. The four uttered a shout of joy, entirely pardonable at such a time. The water was muddy, and it was warm, but it was pure water without any alkali, and, as such it meant life, life to men and beasts in the desert. "The horses first," said Breakstone, "or they’ll be tumbling in here on our heads, and they are entitled to it, anyhow." They filled their kettles and pans with water, climbing out again and again. The horses drank greedily and uttered deep sighs of satisfaction. It took a long time to give them enough by this method, but when they were satisfied the men took their tin cups and drank. "Slowly now," said Breakstone. "Don’t you be too eager there, John, you escaped convict! Phil, you accidental buffalo killer, just hold that cup of yours steady, or you’ll be dashing its contents into your mouth before the rest of us. Now then, you sun-scorched scamps, drink!" The four drank together and at the same pace. Never in his life had anything more delicious trickled down Philip Bedford’s throat. That yellow, muddy water must have been the nectar that Jupiter and the rest of the gods drank, when they were lounging about Olympus. Four empty cups came back, and four heartfelt sighs of satisfaction were uttered. The cups were filled again, but Bill Breakstone held up a warning finger. "I know you want it bad," he said, "because I want it myself just as bad as any of you, but remember that it’s never good for the health to drink too fast, especially when you’re nearly dead of thirst." Phil appreciated the wisdom of his words. Yet he was terribly thirsty. On the burning desert the evaporation was so rapid that his system was already dry again through and through. "Now," said Bill Breakstone, "fill again, gentlemen, and drink. Not quite so fast as before. Just let it linger a little, like an epicure over his wine, while the delicious taste tickles your palate, and the delicate aroma fills your nostrils."