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Updated: May 5, 2025
The thirsty burros broke into a run, hee-hawing with joy as they sniffed the water, and within a few minutes man and beasts were drinking in common at Chuckwalla Tanks. The man permitted them to drink their fill, after which they fell to grazing on the short grass which grew in the draw.
But we're headed northwest and must depend on tanks and desert water-holes. It's hard to tell how close one is to water on that course. But it doesn't matter. We'll refill the kegs at Chuckwalla Tanks. There's most always water there." "And you say the Colorado river is forty miles due south." "Well, between forty and fifty." "Much obliged for the information, I'm sure."
It says: 'Friend, look in my canteen and see that I get justice. "Behold the friend who looked in the canteen, and who is now here for justice for that skeleton. He's waited twenty years for it, Carey, but he's going to get it to-day. Don't squirm so. You distract my mind from my story. "Two months ago I was heading up from the Colorado river toward Chuckwalla Tanks.
It was the desert call for help: three fires in a row by night, three columns of smoke against the horizon by day and the Cahuilla Indian, coming down the draw from Chuckwalla Tanks five miles away, saw flaming against the dawn this appeal of the white man he loved, for whom he lived and labored. Straight across the desert he ran, with the long tireless stride that was the heritage of his people.
On all sides the vast undulating sea of sand and sage stretched to the horizon, and then the Desert Rat understood. He had been delirious. With the fever from his wound and the thought of the fortune of which he had been despoiled, uppermost even in his subconscious brain, he had left Chuckwalla Tanks and started in pursuit. How far or in what direction he had wandered he knew not.
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