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Bayard Louis Roosevelt's Beast (The Beast in
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."Man, that was shootin'! I never seen the like!"They broke through the mesquite, and saw a bare patch of sand, a basin of cracked mud, and no water.No water.CHAPTER 3Despair gripped Callaghen for a moment."Croker," he said, "get back there with your rifle.The Mohaves knew about this, and they may hang back for a time, but they'll be coming on.""I do not think so," the Delaware said."I think it has cost them too much, and they will not risk your shooting again."Callaghen sat down and carefully reloaded his pistol.As he did so he considered the situation.This basin was at the lowest point around.It lay at the end of a ridge of rocks where a spring might conceivably be, surrounded by mesquite and a healthy growth of salt grass.The place was a natural catch basin for water draining off the rocky ridges around it."The mesquite is an indicator of ground water.So is salt grass." Callaghen spoke slowly, for his tongue felt swollen and clumsy, and his lips were cracked.The Delaware looked at him with dull eyes.Walsh sprawled on the sand, making no sound.He lay in shade under the mesquite growth which towered six to seven feet above him.Callaghen's own head seemed not to be working too Well, but he tried to focus his attention on recalling what he knew about this plant.While it was regarded as a sure indicator of water, the roots might penetrate fifty feet into the earth.On the other hand, the roots of salt grass rarely went beyond ten feet, and the water table where the salt grass grew was often less than three feet beneath the surface.He put down his rifle, unslung the spare he had carried, and went into the basin.Throwing aside the slabs of cracked mud, he began to dig.The earth at the bottom was sand and clay, and it was very dry dry as a buffalo skull that has lain twenty years out on the prairie.On his knees, he worked with his hands, digging, he did not think about the parched earth.He did not think about the sting of the alkali when it got into cuts on his hands; he thought only of the water below.Croker came back, staring dully at him, intent on his digging."You waste your time.We are dead men," he said.Callaghen did not look up."Get back to your duty," he said hoarsely."Watch for the Mohaves.""They are gone.""Go back and watch for them!"Croker did not move."You are not an officer.You have no authority here."Callaghen stood up stiffly and turned around."Croker, you've got one chance to live.You get back to your job, or I'll kill you."Croker hesitated, but then he turned and went back through the mesquite, and Callaghen dropped to his knees again.He was a tall man, with wide shoulders, a well setup man who ordinarily moved easily and with some grace.Around the post he was something of a mystery.Everyone knew that his enlistment period would soon be over.When he enlisted he had given his home as Boston.He had twice been advanced to sergeant and had twice been broken back to private, each time for fighting.He was known among those who served with him as a rough fighter, a good man to leave alone.He drank rarely and sparingly, read a great deal, and had few real friends, although he was friendly enough.He rarely spoke of himself.He was proficient with all weapons, and was a superb horseman.Croker, who had served with him for more than a year, had never known him to receive mail.He was really a loner.Many a man who joined the Indian-fighting army did so because he wished to disappear.and the rate of desertion was high.Now he continued to dig steadily.A foot.two feet.The hole was still dry, and he was gasping for breath.The heat, the lack of water, and the long exhausting march had taken their toll, but he went on digging.Finally the Delaware came and pushed him aside, and after that they took turns.Callaghen was down four feet before he felt dampness in the earth.He grunted suddenly and began digging harder.The sand grew damper, and finally it began actually to ooze water.The Delaware pressed his face against the sand thrown up at the edge, feeling its coolness.Callaghen went on digging [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]