By tacit agreement Ladd again became the leader of the party.  Ladd was a man who would have taken all the responsibility whether or not it was given him.  In moments of hazard, of uncertainty, Lash and Gale, even Belding, unconsciously looked to the ranger.  He had that kind of power.

The first thing Ladd asked was to have the store of food that remained spread out upon a tarpaulin.  Assuredly, it was a slender enough supply.  The ranger stood for long moments gazing down at it.  He was groping among past experiences, calling back from his years of life on range and desert that which might be valuable for the present issue.  It was impossible to read the gravity of Ladd’s face, for he still looked like a dead man, but the slow shake of his head told Gale much.  There was a grain of hope, however, in the significance with which he touched the bags of salt and said, “Shore it was sense packin’ all that salt!”

Then he turned to face his comrades.

“That’s little grub for six starvin’ people corralled in the desert.  But the grub end ain’t worryin’ me.  Yaqui can get sheep up the slopes.  Water!  That’s the beginnin’ and middle an’ end of our case.”

“Laddy, I reckon the waterhole here never goes dry,” replied Jim.

“Ask the Indian.”

Upon being questioned, Yaqui repeated what he had said about the dreaded ano seco of the Mexicans.  In a dry year this waterhole failed.

“Dick, take a rope an’ see how much water’s in the hole.”

Gale could not find bottom with a thirty foot lasso.  The water was as cool, clear, sweet as if it had been kept in a shaded iron receptable.

Ladd welcomed this information with surprise and gladness.

“Let’s see.  Last year was shore pretty dry.  Mebbe this summer won’t be.  Mebbe our wonderful good luck’ll hold.  Ask Yaqui if he thinks it ’ll rain.”

Mercedes questioned the Indian.

“He says no man can tell surely.  But he thinks the rain will come,” she replied.

“Shore it ’ll rain, you can gamble on that now,” continued Ladd.  “If there’s only grass for the hosses!  We can’t get out of here without hosses.  Dick, take the Indian an’ scout down the arroyo.  To-day I seen the hosses were gettin’ fat.  Gettin’ fat in this desert!  But mebbe they’ve about grazed up all the grass.  Go an’ see, Dick.  An’ may you come back with more good news!”

Gale, upon the few occasions when he had wandered down the arroyo, had never gone far.  The Yaqui said there was grass for the horses, and until now no one had given the question more consideration.  Gale found that the arroyo widened as it opened.  Near the head, where it was narrow, the grass lined the course of the dry stream bed.  But farther down this stream bed spread out.  There was every indication that at flood seasons the water covered the floor of the arroyo.  The farther Gale went the thicker and larger grew the gnarled mesquites