“I don’t think I care about lying down again,” Rip sighed. “The next one
that happened to come along would be liable to park on my chest.”
“You’re darn lucky it wasn’t a rattler or you wouldn’t be here to give a
hang where the next one parked!”
“What kind of a snake was it?”
“How in the name of Johanna do I know! Do you think I’ve got eyes like a
cat or do you think I stopped to affectionately examine it?”
“Tut! I feel as though I’m wet clear to my heart and I’m getting
thirstier by the minute.”
“Don’t mention it, Rip. I only hope it gets light soon so we can get the
lay of the land again and feed on some more berries. They’re
individualists when it comes to the food line here--no competition.
“The bushes ought to be good and wet from all this rain and that’ll be a
little moisture, anyway. Gee, I’ll never use the word berries in slang
any more, Wes. They’ve certainly been a life-saver, but we’ll be getting
fed up on them after another day. Suppose we haven’t found our way out
by to-morrow night?”
“Well, we haven’t then. What’s the use of worrying about it until then?”
“I suppose that’s the best way to look at it. You’ve ten times more
nerve than I’ll ever have!”
Westy liked that frankness in Rip. Despite his sullen stubbornness at
times, he’d at least admit when he was beaten.
Morning came again--raining, and they started to walk on, Westy, the
keen edge of his hopes dulled a little, but still outwardly cheerful and
Rip silent in his disappointment.
After devouring more berries they went on, trying not to think of the
imperious demand of their thirst, and as the morning wore on they became
tired and stopped to rest again.
“Doesn’t seem to be many berries around here, Rip! I’m getting hungry
again. Shall we go ahead?”
“I don’t care. Whatever you say; but for my part, I’m kind of sick of
them. I’ve got to have water, Wes, that’s all there is to it!”
“I know, Rip, but that is stagnant water--it’s dangerous and vile!”
But Rip had come to the point where Nature was forcing him and made him
fearless of the danger of anything, for before Westy had finished
warning him he was down on his knees, taking draught after draught of
the green-looking water in his small cupped hands.
Westy shuddered as he watched the stuff drip through Rip’s fingers and
hoped he would be given the strength to refrain from drinking it for a
while at least.
They trudged on again, hardly caring now where they went, and Rip
stopping at intervals to consume more and more of the putrid water in
spite of Westy cautioning him to stop.
Shivering though they both were, in their wet garments, Westy noticed a
decided hectic flush upon Rip’s face and it worried him.
It was getting dark again, and still no lull in the storm, but Westy’s
weary-looking eyes brightened as he caught sight of something ahead.
“Look, Rip, old top! On the ground!”
“What is it?”
“Our tracks--from yesterday!”