At last we dropped our burden in the shade of a cedar where the
other lions lay, and we stretched ourselves. A long, sweet rest came
abruptly to end with Emett's next words.
"The lions are choking! They're dying of thirst! We must have water!"
One glance at the poor, gasping, frothing beasts, proved to me the
nature of our extremity.
"Water in this desert! Where will we find it? Oh! why, did I forget my
canteen!"
After all our hopes, our efforts, our tragedies, and finally our
wonderful good fortune, to lose these beautiful lions for lack of a
little water was sickening, maddening.
"Think quick!" cried Emett. "I'm no good; I'm all in. But you must
find water. It snowed yesterday. There's water somewhere."
Into my mind flashed a picture of the many little pockets beaten by
rains into the shelves and promontories of the canyon rim. With the
thought I was on the jump. I ran; I climbed; I seemed to have wings; I
reached the rim, and hurried along it with eager gaze. I swung down on
a cedar branch to a projecting point of rock. Small depressions were
everywhere still damp, but the water had evaporated. But I would not
give up. I jumped from rock to rock, and climbed over scaly ledges,
and set tons of yellow shale into motion. And I found on a ragged
promontory many little, round holes, some a foot deep, all full of
clear water.
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