He would have given five dollars for a drink of water, but there would be water at the car, he told himself.

People were rather particular about carrying plenty of water when they traveled these wastes.
And then he was on the ridge, and his keen eyes were squinted half-shut while he gazed here and there, no foot of exposed land surface escaping that unwinking stare.

He took off his hat and wiped his face, and reached mechanically for a chew of tobacco which he always took when perplexed, as if it stimulated thought.
There was no car.

There was no road.

There was not even a burro trail along that ridge.