Jack's horse and burro, which he had left at the head of the canon, were already in the Indians' possession. With him he carried his rifle and a Colt revolver. A canteen of water was slung over his shoulder. The desert had placed its stamp upon him, turning his clothes to gray. The tan of his face was deepened. Lines about the eyes and mouth showed how much he had suffered physically and mentally in his search for the man he believed was his successful rival in love. Reaching the spring, he looked about cautiously before he laid down his Winchester. He tugged at the butt of his revolver to make certain that it could be pulled quickly from the holster. Taking off his hat, he knelt to drink. He smiled, and confidently tapped his canteen when he found the spring dry. He was raising his canteen to his lips when he spied Dick's body. Jumping behind a rock, he pulled his revolver, covering the insensible man. It might be a trap. He scanned the trail, the cliff, the canon. Hearing and seeing nothing, he slipped his revolver into his holster and hurried to Dick's side. At first he did not recognize him. The desert and thirst had wrought many changes in his friend's face. When recognition came, he threw his arms about the prostrate form, crying: "Dick, at last, at last!" His voice was broken with emotion. The search had been so long, so weary, and the ending so sudden. He had found Dick, but it looked as if he came too late. Gathering Dick up in his arms, he raised him until his head rested on his knees. Forcing open his mouth, he poured a little water down his throat. Then with a moistened handkerchief he wetted temples and wrists. Slowly Dick struggled back to life. "Water--water--it's water!" he gasped, struggling for more of the precious fluid. "Easy," cautioned Jack. "Only a little now--more when you're stronger." "Who is it?" cried Dick. Not waiting for Jack to enlighten him, he continued: "No matter--you came in time. I couldn't have held out any longer. All the springs are dry--I figured on reaching Clearwater." Jack helped Dick to his feet. Taking his stricken friend's right arm, he drew it across his shoulders. With his left arm about his waist, Jack led him to a seat upon a convenient rock. "I came by Clearwater yesterday," explained Jack. "It is nothing but mud and alkali." "My horse dropped three days ago. I had to shoot the pack-mule. I--" Dick opened his eyes under the ministrations of Jack. Gazing upward into his face, he shouted joyfully: "Why--it's Jack--Jack Payson." "Didn't you know me, Dick?" asked Jack sympathetically. "Not at first--my eyes went to the bad out yonder in the glare." The effort had been too much for Dick. He sat weakly over Jack's knees. Jack turned him partly on his back, and let more water trickle down his throat.