It was full of water,
hardly clear, but plentiful, and slowly washing out a bigger pool for
itself as it seeped forth.
"There is poison in the real spring down there." Beverly pointed toward
the diminished fountain we had expected to find. "I've worked since noon
at this."
We drank, and life came back to us. We pitched camp, and then listened
to Beverly's story of the sweet and bitter waters of the trail that day.
And all the while it seemed as if Bill Banney was just out of sight and
might come galloping in at any moment.
"You know what happened up the trail," my cousin said, sadly. "Bill was
ahead of me and he drank first, and galloped back to warn me and beg me
to come on for water. I thought I could get down here and take some
water back to Bill in time. It's all shale up there. No place to dig
above, nor below, even if one dared to dig below that poison. But I
found a dead coyote that had just left here, and all springs began to
look Comanche to me. I lariated my pony and crept down under the bank
there to think and rest. Everything went poison-spotted before my eyes."
"Where's your pony now, Bev?" Jondo asked.
"I don't know sure, but I expect he is about going over the Raton Pass
by this time," Beverly replied.
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