"Drink it--all you can hold of it. It won't taste good, but it's wet."
He was gulping great swallows from the tin, as with the other hand he
tried to hold back the flow. Endicott placed the bottle to his lips and
was surprised to find that he emptied it almost at a draught. Again and
again the Texan filled the bottle and the can as both in a frenzy of
desire gulped the thick liquid. When, at length they were satiated, the
blood still flowed. The receptacles were filled, set aside, and covered
with a strip of cloth. For a moment longer the horse stood with the
blood spurting from his throat, then with a heavy sigh he toppled
sidewise and crashed heavily to the ground. The Texan fixed the cork in
the bottle, plugged the can as best he could, and taking them, together
with the remaining can of tomatoes, tied them into the slicker behind the
cantle of his saddle. He swung the bag containing the few remaining
biscuits to the horn.

"Give her the tomatoes when you have to. _You_ can use the other
can--tell her that's tomatoes, too. She'll never tumble that it's blood."

Endicott stared at the other: "What do you mean?"

"I mean that you had better wake her up, now, an' get goin'. I'll wait
here for Bat. He's probably found the spring by this time, an' he'll be
moseyin' along directly with water an' the pack-horse."

Endicott took a step toward him: "It won't work, Tex," he said, with a
smile. "You don't expect me to believe that if you really thought Bat
would return with water, you would be sending us away from here into this
dust-storm. No. I'm the one that waits for Bat. You go ahead and take
her through, and then you can come back for me."