“I guess so. Ain’t seen hide ner hair of ’em since. Left th’ hosses at th’ lake, and we hoofed it with th’ asses. Then, side o’ Dewlap, we leaves th’ asses browsin’ off th’ bresh--” “Yes, yes!”--irritably from Morley. “And you’re sure they’ve not come out?” “How could they yet? I been hikin’ straight sence I left ’em, ’ceptin’ to ketch up Mrs. Lot.” “Well, well, well, Henry! Tough luck about your gauge. Don’t let us keep you.” “Tough luck, you bet!” Henry agreed. “Heh-heh-heh!” He slithered to Lot’s Wife, who had wandered from the straight and narrow in search of dry bunchgrass, and shooed her into the trail again. “What’ll we do now?” asked Leach. “Go up after ’em or wait here?” “They’ll be coming out soon, with Henry gone,” said Morley. “Bet the old coot ditched ’em in the night. If that’s so, they’ll give up in a day or two. Le’s wait for ’em here.” They continued to wait for days and days, anxious, afraid that the party had perished in the wilderness, afraid that Henry had lied to them. Henry had not returned; they supposed he was waiting at Diamond H for the arrival of his new rain gauge, and they knew that mail came to the desert ranch infrequently and at irregular intervals. Morley left Leach on guard and rode back to Tanburt for fresh supplies. He returned, and they continued their patient vigil. Then one afternoon at three o’clock Dr. Inman Shonto came riding down the trail, alone. They flattened themselves on the ground behind sagebrush and elbowed each other in the ribs in silent satisfaction. Shonto must needs camp at the desert spring that night. When horse and rider were a mere speck in the hazy distance the prospectors hurried to a draw in which their saddle animals were picketed and raced in a great circle toward the buttes. They rounded the buttes and entered them from the opposite side. They galloped to the spring, collected their belongings, and erased all evidences of a recent camp. They watered their sweating horses and rode out on the desert again, found their pack animals and picketed them, then made a dry camp to await the coming of night. CHAPTER XXIII OLD ACQUAINTANCES