"How far can they go?"

"Camp now. Beside de cut-bank here. Dem hoss she got for res' queek or,
ba Goss, she die."

Tex felt his own horse tremble and he knew the half-breed's words were
true. With an oath he swung into the sheltered angle of the cut-bank
along which they were travelling. Bat jerked the pack from the
lead-horse and produced clothing and blankets, dripping wet from the
saturation he had given them in the poison spring. While the others
repeated the process of the previous camp, Bat worked over the horses
which stood in a dejected row with their noses to the base of the
cut-bank.

"We'll save the water an' make tomatoes do," announced the Texan, as with
his knife he cut a hole in the top of a can. "This storm is bound to let
up pretty quick an' then we'll hit for the waterhole. It can't be far
from here. We'll tap two cans an' save one an' the water--the flask's
half full yet."

Never in her life, thought Alice, as she and Endicott shared their can of
tomatoes, had she tasted anything half so good. The rich red pulp and
the acid juice, if it did not exactly quench the burning thirst, at least
made it bearable, and in a few minutes she fell asleep protected from the
all pervading dust by one of the wet blankets. The storm roared on. At
the end of a couple of hours Bat rose and silently saddled his horse.
"A'm gon' for fin' dat water-hole," he said, when the task was completed.
"If de sto'm stop, a'right. If it don' stop, you gon' on in de mornin'."
He placed one of the empty tomato cans in his slicker, and as he was
about to mount both Endicott and Tex shook his hand.