But Midnight did not care.

For hours their way had been through a trackless plain of uncropped salt grass, or grama, on the rising slopes: now they were in a country of worn and freshly traveled trails: wise Midnight knew there would be water and nooning soon.

Already they had seen little bands of horses peering down at them from the high knolls on their right.
Midnight wondered if they were to find sweet water or alkali.

Sweet, likely, since it was in the hills; Midnight was sure he hoped so.

The best of these wells in the plains were salt and brackish.