"Reckon not," answered the man.
"Where can we find the station agent?"
"He's gone up to Gordon, and won't be back till midnight."
"Hasn't any one got any horse-feed for sale?"
[Illustration: No Horse-Feed]
"There isn't a smell of horse-feed here," said the man. "I've
got the only well, except the railroad's, but it's 'most dry.
I'll give you what water I can, though. As for feed, you'd better
go on three miles to Keith's ranch. It's on Lost Creek Flat, and
there's lots of haystacks there, and you can help yourself. At
the ranch-house they will give you other things."
We drove over to the man's house, and got half a pail of
water apiece for the horses. They wanted more, but there was no
more in the well. The man said we could get everything we wanted
at the ranch, and we started on. The horses were tired, but even
Old Blacky was quite amiable, and trudged along in the sand
without complaint.
Jack was still in the wagon, and we heard nothing of him. It
was cloudy and very dark. But the horses kept in the trail, and
after, as it seemed to us, we had gone five miles, we felt
ourselves on firmer ground.
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