"I guess that will help a little," decided Tad, running his fingers over the spot.
"Just like singeing the pin feathers off an old hen--the feathers burn, but the hen doesn't," grumbled Stacy.
"Whew! the smoke's getting thick in here. We've got to stop the burning or we'll suffocate," warned Tad. "Wish I had an ax. I'd make short work of the old door."
They then began working with a grim determination, Stacy ceasing his joking. At last a tiny ray of light showed through the heavy door.
"Not yet. We're not out of our prison," laughed Tad. "Keep cutting. It will take all of an hour to make an opening large enough for me to get my hand through----"
"I got my finger through," cried Stacy triumphantly. "Ouch!" he yelled as a club of some sort was brought against the door on the outside with terrific force, bruising the end of the lad's finger.
"The hermit is out there waiting for us!" gasped Tad, with sinking heart.
A rifle shot sounded from the camp of the Pony Rider Boys. At regular intervals shot followed shot.
It was the warning signal agreed upon to notify the others that water had been found. Ned Rector had ridden into camp with the joyful tidings that he had discovered a water tank about three miles to the eastward. Immediately Walter sprang for his rifle, and running to the top of the little hill began shooting into the air. Ned, in the meantime, not waiting for the return of the others, had fetched the water-bags from the burros, and started off at a rapid pace to bring back water for the stock. His canteen he left for Professor Zepplin and Walter.
"It's horrible stuff, but it is water," breathed the Professor as he swallowed the brown alkali fluid. "If ever I get a drink of real water again, I know I shall be able to appreciate it."
In the meantime Walter's rifle was booming its warning over the desert maze.
Two hours later, Tom Parry, hot, dusty and well-nigh spent, rode into camp with the steam rising from his pony in a thin, vaporous cloud.
"Yes; Ned's found a water hole," the Professor informed him.
"Give me a drink, quick. The alkali's cutting furrows in my throat," he begged. "Never got such a hold of me before."
The Professor pressed his canteen to the guide's lips, and Parry drank eagerly. A few moments later he pulled himself together sharply.