Frank started, and presently disappeared behind some brush at a turn in the road.  An instant later he shouted and screamed at the top of his voice.  Whether he was shouting with joy or terror, or had gone out of his senses, we were unable to guess.  It sounded like “Who-o-o-op! water! water! water!”

Had the boy seen a mirage and gone mad?  We could see nothing but the broad hollow about us, barren and dry as ever.  But still the boy continued to shout, “Water! water!” and presently he appeared round the bend, running and holding up what appeared to be a letter.  It was a letter.  When Frank reached the ambulance tears were in his eyes as he handed me a yellow envelope.

“Found it on the head of a barrel over there, with a stone on it to prevent it from blowing away.”

Breaking open the envelope with trembling fingers, I read: 

     “TYSON’S WELLS.

     “DEAR LIEUTENANT.—­Please accept four barrels of water and
     four bushels of corn, with my compliments.

     “GRAY.”

Need I confess the emotions with which we realized the service this brave Arizona merchant had done us? or need I mention that Mr. Gray—­God bless him, wherever he may be!—­is always remembered with gratitude by me? for this is no idle incident invented to amuse a reader, but an actual occurrence.

Water!—­four barrels!—­one hundred and sixty gallons!  That meant two gallons for every man and boy, and eight gallons for each animal.  It meant rest, speed, safety.

We moved across the ravine and found the four barrels by the road-side.  The animals were secured to the ambulance and the acacia bushes, the heads of the barrels removed, and after each person had satisfied his thirst the camp kettles were used, until horses and mules had drunk the contents of one each.  The stock was then turned out to graze.

When coffee was poured, Private Tom Clary arose, and, holding up his tin cup, said to his comrades: 

“Here’s a toast to be drunk standin’, b’ys, and for many raysons, which I think nade not be explained to this assimbly, I’m glad to drink it in a decoction whose principal ingraydiant is wather.  Here’s to Mr. Gray, whose conduct at Soldiers’ Holes, at Date Creek, and on the Walkerhelyer has won our admiration.  May he niver lack for the liquid he has so ginerously dispinsed, nor a soft hand to smooth his last pillow, and plinty of masses for the repose of his sowl!”

Frank and Henry sprang towards the circle of soldiers, raised their cups as Clary finished his sentiment, and joined in the hearty response when he closed.

At one o’clock the animals were caught up, given the remainder of the water and their portion of the corn, and got ready for the road.  Once up the slope Marr cracked his whip, the mules started into a trot, the horses of the escort broke into a canter, and amid the cheerful clatter of hoofs and the rattle of wheels we sped on our way as fresh as if we were just leaving Fort Whipple.  A ride of twenty miles brought us to Tyson’s Wells.  These were two in number, sunk at an intersection of several roads leading to settlements and mines, an accommodation to trains, flocks, and herds, and a profit to the owner.