“Not a drop, and Bart says we can’t get any here.”
“Keep on to Gitalong, that’s the thing to do. If you don’t get there within half an hour of our arrival we’ll start out after you with water.”
“I suppose that’s all we can do,” groaned poor Billy.
“And the quicker we do it, the better,” briskly announced Frank. “Come on, Harry; ho for Gitalong, and to the dickens with Cow Wells, where there are no cows and no wells.”
“That’s why they gave it the name, I guess,” commented Lathrop, with a sorrowful grin.
It grew hotter and hotter as the afternoon wore on. Billy finally, although he stuck to the wheel pluckily as long as he was able, was compelled to give it up to Lathrop. After that he lay on the floor of the tonneau, suffering terrible torments from his raging thirst.
Old Bart sat grimly by Lathrop’s side, encouraging him as well as he knew how, and the boy bravely smiled at the old miner’s jokes and stories, although each smile made his parched lips crack.
“Why, what’s the matter?” remarked Lathrop suddenly, as the auto seemed to slow down and come to a stop of itself.
“I dunno; you’re an auto driver, you ought to know,” said Bart.
“The engine’s overheated,” pronounced old man Joyce. “Look at the steam coming from the cap of the radiator.”
He pointed to a slender wisp of white vapor. It indicated to Lathrop at once that Mr. Joyce was right. The accident they had dreaded had happened. It might be hours before they could proceed.
“What can we do?” demanded Bart Witherbee.
“Nothing,” responded Lathrop, “except to let her cool off. The cylinders have jammed, and the metal won’t cool sufficiently till the evening to allow us to proceed.”
“That’s it, Bart. We had better crawl under the machine. We shall get some shade there, anyhow.”
“A good idee, youngster; come on, Mr. Joyce. Here, Lathrop, bear a hand here, and help me get poor Billy out.”
The fleshy young reporter was indeed in a sad state. His stoutness made the heat harder for him to bear than the others. They rolled him into the shade under the auto and there they all lay till sundown, panting painfully. As the sun dropped it grew cooler, and gradually a slight breeze crept over the burning waste. As it did so the adventurers crawled from their retreat, even Billy partially reviving in the grateful drop in the temperature. But there was still no sign of the aeroplane.