“We’ve about made up our minds, Hal,” he said deliberately, “that you got to be dropped behind for a time.  We’re going on to find water.  When we find it we’ll come back and get you.  Understand?”

Sinclair moistened his lips, but said nothing.

Then Sandersen’s voice grew screechy with sudden passion.  “Say, do you want three men to die for one?  Besides, what good could we do?”

“You don’t mean it,” declared Sinclair.  “Sandersen, you don’t mean it!  Not alone out here!  You boys can’t leave me out here stranded.  Might as well shoot me!”

All were silent.  Sandersen looked to Lowrie, and the latter stared at the sand.  It was Quade who acted.

Stepping to the side of Sinclair he lifted him easily in his powerful arms and lowered him to the sands.  “Now, keep your nerve,” he advised.  “We’re coming back.”

He stumbled a little over the words.  “It’s all of us or none of us,” he said.  “Come on, boys. My conscience is clear!”

They turned their horses hastily to the hills, and, when the voice of Sinclair rang after them, not one dared turn his head.

“Partners, for the sake of all the work we’ve done together—­don’t do this!”

In a shuddering unison they spurred their horses and raised the weary brutes into a gallop; the voice faded into a wail behind them.  And still they did not look back.

For that matter they dared not look at one another, but pressed on, their eyes riveted to the hills.  Once Lowrie turned his head to mark the position of the sun.  Once Sandersen, in the grip of some passion of remorse or of fear of death, bowed his head with a strange moan.  But, aside from that, there was no sound or sign between them until, hardly an hour and a half after leaving Sinclair, they found water.

At first they thought it was a mirage.  They turned away from it by mutual assent.  But the horses had scented drink, and they became unmanageable.  Five minutes later the animals were up to their knees in the muddy water, and the men were floundering breast deep, drinking, drinking, drinking.

After that they sat about the brink staring at one another in a stunned fashion.  There seemed no joy in that delivery, for some reason.

“I guess Sinclair will be a pretty happy gent when he sees us coming back,” said Sandersen, smiling faintly.

There was no response from the others for a moment.  Then they began to justify themselves hotly.

“It was your idea, Quade.”

“Why, curse your soul, weren’t you glad to take the idea?  Are you going to blame it on to me?”

“What’s the blame?” asked Lowrie.  “Ain’t we going to bring him water?”

“Suppose he ever tells we left him?  We’d have to leave these parts pronto!”

“He’ll never tell.  We’ll swear him.”

“If he does talk, I’ll stop him pretty sudden,” said Lowrie, tapping his holster significantly.