A second inspection of the map brought us no light on the question.

We talked it over, and looked at it from all points, but we couldn't dodge the truth: the chart was wrong.
Then we explored several of the nearest gullies, but without finding anything but loose stones baked hot in the sun.
By now it was getting towards sundown, so we built us a fire of mesquite on the beach, made us supper, and boiled a pot of beans.
We talked it over.

The water was about gone.
"That's what we've got to find first," said Simpson, "no question of it.

It's God knows how far to the next water, and we don't know how long it will take us to get there in that little boat.

If we run our water entirely out before we start, we're going to be in trouble.
We'll have a good look to-morrow, and if we don't find her, we'll run down to Mollyhay[4] and get a few extra casks." "Perhaps that map is wrong about the treasure, too," suggested Denton.
"I thought of that," said Handy Solomon, "but then, thinks I to myself, this old rip probably don't make no long stay here--just dodges in and out like, between tides, to bury his loot.