“I don’t believe he will. He’s scared now, but he will forget all about it as soon as he meets somebody. He’s too young to remember long.” “Well, I shall have nervous prostration if we keep getting such jolts as this all day. I shall be glad when it’s dark again.” The day seemed interminable to the boys, for there was nothing to do, and they did not dare even to step outside, for fear of being seen. Raymond persisted in believing that the tiny spy who had looked in at the door would report their presence. There was no alarm, however, as the day wore on, and he was finally obliged to confess that Sidney’s prediction was probably accurate, and that the child had forgotten the incident as soon as it was past. The varied noises of village life rose to the lonely house and gave a pleasing sense of neighborliness to the boys in spite of the possibility of danger that the sounds suggested. Three or four horsemen galloped in, seemingly on the road by which the boys had arrived. The sunlight glistened from the bright metal trimmings of saddle and bridle, and from the guns and the silver cartridge cases which the men wore on their coat fronts. If the arms had been omitted, the long dark coats, with skirts that covered the horses’ sides, and the black lamb’s wool caps worn by the men, would have made them appear like a company of priests. “Gee! don’t I wish I had one of those horses!” sighed Raymond. “It’s hard lines for a Texan to have to go afoot.” “Well,” said Sidney, “we proved, that winter in Mexico, that Texans can walk if necessary.” “Yes, but we never had such mountains as those to cross.” And Raymond looked distrustfully on the tremendous range that rose above the horizon. “What bothers me most,” said Sidney, “is the thought of cold weather and snow over the summit. It must get pretty cold up there a little later. We’ll have to do our very best hiking as soon as we get out of this place.” As afternoon advanced the boys became so thirsty that hunger was forgotten and they could not endure the thought of dry food. The desire for water increased until it amounted to torture. They paced restlessly across the room, back and forth, in absolute silence, with no heart for talk. “Sid,” asked Raymond, when the sun had dropped behind the mountain at the back, and long shadows lay across the valley, “how much longer will we have to wait?” “Until it’s good and dark.” “But then we shan’t know where to get water.” “It can’t be far to the mouth of the cañon above the village, and we’re almost sure to find water there.” “I don’t see how I’m going to stand it, Sid. I’d go back to the jail if I could have a good drink.” “You see, Ray, it’s not just a question of going back to the jail. We can’t tell what they would do with us for killing the bandits. I don’t know of any way we could prove we did it in self-defense.” “Well, I almost wish that policeman would find us; that would settle it.”