“Worse'n that.” The Wounded Bad Man sighed. “It can't be,” he said. “There's a wagon at the Tanks,” continued The Worst Bad Man, “but no horses. It's a tenderfoot outfit--a man an' his woman--an' they come in from Salton, via Canon Springs and Boulder, headed for New Jerusalem. Some o' their kin has started a boardin' tent in the new camp an' these two misfortunates were aimin' to go in with the rush an' clean up a stake. They make Terrapin Tanks all right, but the water's a little low an' the man ain't got sense enough to dig out the sand an' let the water run in. He's one of these nervous city fellers, I guess, and it just naturally hurts him to set down an' wait till that sump-hole fills up. Besides, he don't take kindly to usin' a shovel, so he sticks in a shot o' dynamite to clean out th' tanks an' start the water runnin'----” The Wounded Bad Man sprang to his feet, cursing horribly. “The damned, crazy fool!” he raved. “I'll kill him, I will. I'll kill him just as sure as I'm thirsty.” The Worst Bad Man paid no attention to the other's outburst. “So he stuck in his stick o' dynamite an' it's only a fool's luck he didn't blow himself up doin' it. I wisht he had; but he didn't. He just put Terrapin Tanks out o' business forever--cracked the granite floor o' that sump-hole an' busted down the sides, an' the water's run out into the sand an' the tanks run dry. They'll stay dry. We can have cloudbursts in this country from now until I get religion, but them tanks'll never hold another drop o' water. That fool tenderfoot's dead, I guess; but he's goin' to keep right on killin' people just the same. Men'll keep comin' here, bankin' on water--an' in five years there'll be a dozen skeletons round that busted tank.” “But all that ain't what's bitin' me half as hard as what he went an' done next. He went an' let his stock nose round an' lick up that alkali slop below the Tanks, an' drove 'em _loco_. They took off up the canon, huntin' water, with Mr. Man after 'em. That was four days ago an' he ain't come back yet; so we don't need to waste no time speculatin' on his case an' feelin' sorry for him. It wouldn't 'a been so bad, but he went an' left his woman alone at th' Tanks. She had a little water left, so she wasn't so bad off until yesterday, when it give out. It's been pretty hard on her all alone there--an' she's a nice little woman too. About twenty, I guess, an' heaps too good for the cuss she married. But still that ain't the worst--not by a long shot. She's goin' to have a papoose.” “_What!_” “The Youngest Bad Man and The Wounded Bad Man voiced the horrified exclamation in unison; then The Wounded Bad Man sank back against a rock. “Yes,” The Worst Bad Man affirmed huskily, “there's a baby due right soon, I reckon. She's in a pretty bad fix. I was never married, boys, an' I don't know what to do for her--an' she's cryin', an' prayin', and askin' for help, an'--I--don't know----”