"Water must be somewhere; but can that be it?
It's too pale and elusive to be real.

No life--a blasted, staked plain! Hello!" A thin, black, wavering line of wild fowl, moving in beautiful, rapid flight, crossed the line of his vision.

"Geese flying north, and low.
There's water here," he said.

He followed the flock with his glass, saw them circle over the lake, and vanish in the gray sheen.
"It's water." He hurried back to camp.

His haggard and worn companions scorned his discovery.