“It’s a long way,” said Sidney doubtfully. “I think we must have been tramping fully two hours, and after we found another trail we’d have to follow it up to water, maybe two hours longer. I doubt if we are equal to that.” With the new disappointment, after the great exertion that had preceded it, the boys had nearly collapsed. Their legs gave way under them and they sank to the ground. “Sid!”--and there was a note of terror in Raymond’s voice--“maybe this country is like Lower California, and there is no surface water.” “It can’t be; there are so many people living here.” “But perhaps the people in the village get all their water from wells.” “That’s so; I never thought of that; maybe they do.” “I’m going back to the village, Sid, for water.” And Raymond struggled to his feet. “We must not do a foolish thing, Ray, just because we feel desperate. If we go back I don’t believe we’ll ever leave there alive. I think there is water in the cañon above the village, too, for you know there was running water where we camped below.” Raymond hesitated, partly convinced by his brother’s reasoning. “What do you propose to do?” he asked. “I think it’s too far to go back by the trail,” replied Sidney, “and we can’t get straight down the mountain in the dark. I blame myself for not noticing that we were climbing quite a grade, but that can’t be helped now, and really, I could hardly think of anything but water.” “I can’t think of anything else now. You were not to blame, Sid, any more than I was. We were simply frantic, both of us.” “Don’t you think, Ray, that we could stay here till daylight? That would be better than to blunder around in the dark, and wear ourselves out, and perhaps break our arms and legs.” Raymond stood without replying, and Sidney continued:-- “We can leave here just as soon as it is light enough to get down the mountain. We can go straight down, then, and it probably won’t be more than two or three miles. And I believe we’ll find water when we get there, Ray. It will be flowing in the mouth of the cañon, if anywhere.” “Can you stay here till morning without water, Sid?” asked Raymond finally. “I believe I can, because I think it’s the only thing for us to do. It will be hard, I admit. I would rather have a drink now than anything else under Heaven.” Raymond threw his blankets down on the ground and began to unroll them without speaking. “Won’t you eat a little bread first, Ray?” asked his brother. “No; I can’t eat.” “I think we ought to eat something, though. If we don’t we’ll be so weak by morning we shan’t be able to reach water. If we chew the driest part of the bread very thoroughly we can swallow it.” “All right,” said Raymond dully; “give me a piece.”