At the bottom lay no more than two inches of very brown water. His hands and fingers were sore from digging, especially under his fingernails.
He scooped some dirty water into his mouth, then swished it around, trying to filter it with his teeth.
Zero moaned. Stanley started to say something to him, but no words came out of his mouth, and he had to try again.
“How you doing?” It hurt to talk. “Not good,” Zero said quietly.
With great effort, he rolled over, raised himself to his knees, and crawled to the water hole.
He lowered his head into it and lapped up some water. Then he jerked back, clutched his knees to his chest, and rolled to his side.
His body shook violently. Stanley thought about going back down the mountain to look for the shovel, so he could make the water hole deeper.
Maybe that would give them cleaner water. They could use the jars as drinking glasses.
But he didn't think he had the strength to go down, let alone make it back up again. And he didn't know where to look.
He struggled to his feet. He was in a field of greenish white flowers that seemed to extend all the way around Big Thumb.
He took a deep breath, then walked the last fifty yards to the giant precipice and touched it. Tag, you're it.
Then he walked back to Zero and the water hole. On the way he picked one of the flowers.
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