There was nothing more.

They were in the heart of Death Valley.
"Not a drop of water," muttered McTeague; "not a drop of water." "We can drink the mule's blood," said Marcus.

"It's been done before.
But--but--" he looked down at the quivering, gory body--"but I ain't thirsty enough for that yet." "Where's the nearest water ?" "Well, it's about a hundred miles or more back of us in the Panamint hills," returned Marcus, doggedly.

"We'd be crazy long before we reached it.

I tell you, we're done for, by damn, we're DONE for.