"If you get enough water," murmured Roger.
"If we get enough water," agreed Charley.
They both paused and looked from Dick, sweating behind the horses, to the unending yellow of the desert against which Dick and the horses looked like pygmies. Finally Charley said with a sudden chuckle, "Roger, one thing I do remember is your spitfire rages--very vaguely, but they must have been rather devastating to have made an impression on my baby mind."
Roger's smile was a little twisted. "Nice thing to remember of me. Where is your tact, woman!"
"Mercy! You aren't sensitive about it after all these years? I thought it funny that your baby temper and the pool were all I could rake up out of our past."
"Where is Felicia?" asked Roger, abruptly.
"She went up to the spring to fill my little canteen with water."
"Thank heaven," said Roger, "that she can't rake up my past. I'm going to stroll up to meet her." And he doffed his hat and was off, feeling that somehow he had not made great headway.