Page:The Pacific Monthly vol. 14.djvu/105

This page needs to be proofread.

blind. Donaldson, by some evil accident, had lost his compass, and upon thrusting his head from beneath the wagon found that the entire topography of the desert had seemed to change. The mountains appeared to him reversed, and to the north, where they had seen a high hill of barren sand, lay now but a vast blank of desert ; and three long hills that were not previously observed loomed up to the eastward. Their course had been so winding that from the position of the wagon they could not determine from whence they had come. Donaldson admitted that he was lost.

It was an act of charity to slay the mule whose eyesight had been destroyed by the blasts of sand, and this was done before they started on foot to return from the valley.

Leaving their wagon, Donaldson took a course that he averred was the right one, but McNully disputed it, and a doubt remained. However, at first with hope, and later with despair, they continued in their course. All the water that they could carry had been taken with them; but McNully had contracted a fever, and all but the contents of two canteens had been consimaed. But now, in vain Donaldson en- deavored to convince his companion that every drop must be treasured, and that only by drinking economically, and by denying themselves to the last limit of en- durance, could they expect to find their way out of the valley. This McNully stub- bornly refused to do, so Donaldson — with wisdom rather than with selfishness — carried the canteens and refused McNully even a taste of the precious water.

It had been two days since either of them had drunk. There was now little hope of finding a well, and only by this terrible denial could they escape death. Donaldson told himself that when his companion was no longer able to stand it he would let him drink, but until then he must suffer.

The hours had worn painfully by, and moments were now as eons to the two famished prospectors — especially to McNully. They had reached the Spanish Bayonet, and Donaldson with a quick incision of the knife found that it was dry. In despair his eyes roamed desperately over the desert, as if in search of some char- itable cactus from whose thorny barrel he could extract the juice. But there was none in sight. The "four-legged snake" darted across the sand; the chuca-walla crawled lazily from him; waves of intolerable heat danced before his dry, bleared eyes as though mocking him.

Another half-mile was covered, and before them lay the same unbroken vast- ness, the same seething glare, the same nothingness ! Their steps became slow and alarmingly heavy, and the wild, haggard expression of McNully's eyes had hardened ominously. The gleam of insanity shone from their depths as he gazed bitterly at the bent and burdened form of his companion in advance. Donaldson had told him that they must not drink till the last moment. Well, the last moment was approaching.

"George, I must drink, I tell you. I cannot stand it !"

"Nary a drop fur two hours, Jim. If we drink now we will run out of water and die on this blasted desert. Be sensible, Jim, an' wait a bit."

The white, hot sun burned as in hatred upon his brow, and the sky, leering above them, assumed a more parching aspect. Ah, what a precious thing was water ! — just a drop of it to moisten the feverish lip and dry, parched tongue ! Donaldson, in his two canteens, carried the only water that this damnable desert had ever known ; and he refused to let him — McNully — ^taste it, even now, when he was dying — yes, dying of this inward fire ! In those two canteens there was suffi- cient to last one man until he could find a well, but if both of them drank they would both die. They could not expect that both would escape; but if only one consumed the contents of the two vessels there would be enough to last him, and only one — the other — would be compelled to die. It was better that one should die to save the other than that both should give their bones to the hated sands. McNully carried the rifle. Donaldson was unarmed. Who would know if McNully pulled the trigger and Donaldson perished on the desert? McNully could say that his companion collapsed, and the "Valley of Death would not reveal its secret.

Donaldson was now walking much slower than was usual, but