The judge dropped on his stomach and buried his face in the tiny pool, gulping up great thirsty swallows.

After a long breathless instant he stood erect, with drops of moisture clinging to his nose and eyebrows.

Mahaffy was a dozen paces down the road, hurrying forward again with relentless vigor.

The judge shuffled after him.

The tracks they left in the dust crossed and re-crossed the road, but presently the slanting lines of their advance straightened, the judge gained and held a fixed place at Mahaffy's right, a step or so in the rear.