somewhat, and the blood began to flow again in his veins. It seemed as
if a dew touched his face, delicious, soothing like drops of rain in the
burning desert.

He rose and stretched his stiffened limbs. Overhead spread the dark,
cool sky, and the bright stars were coming out, one by one. After the
first few moments of relief he heard the cry for water again. Despite
the night and the coming chill he knew that it would make itself heard
often and often, and he began to study the possibilities of a descent.
But he saw the fires spread out again on all sides of the Pyramid of the
Sun and the Pyramid of the Moon and flame thickly along the Calle de los
Muertos. It did not seem that he could pass even on the blackest night.

He moved over toward the northern edge of the pyramid, and stood under
the palm which he had noticed in the day. One of its broad green leaves,
swayed by the wind, touched him softly on the face. He looked up. It was
a friendly palm. Its very touch was kindly. He stroked the blades and
then he examined the stem or body minutely. He was a studious boy who
had read much. He had heard of the water palm of the Hawaiian and other
South Sea Islands. Might not the water palm be found in Mexico also? In
any event, he had never heard of a palm that was poisonous. They were
always givers of life.

He raised the machete and slashed the stem of the palm at a point about
five feet from the ground. The wound gaped open and a stream of water
gushed forth. Ned applied his mouth at once and drank long and deeply.
It was not poison, nor was it any bitter juice. This was the genuine
water palm, yielding up the living fluid of its arteries for him. He
drank as long as the gash gave forth water and then sat down under the
blades of the palm, content and thankful, realizing that there was