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"We can down the stew with our soft drinks," Giordino suggested.
"You got soda pop? How you fellas fixed for water?"
"Enough for a few days," answered Giordino.
"If you're running short I can point you coward a well about 10 miles to the north."
"We're thankful for any help," said Pitt.
"More than you know," added Giordino.
The sun had fallen below the horizon and twilight still lit the sky. With the approach of evening the air became breathable again. After hobbling Mr. Periwinkle, who found and began happily chomping on several clumps of coarse grass growing out of a small dune, the Kid added water to the concentrated beef stew and, to the relief of Pitt, cooked it over a small Coleman stove along with biscuits. If Kazim had sent aircraft to hunt them by night, a small fire, no matter how shielded by the walls of the gorge, would have been a dead giveaway. The old prospector also provided tin plates and eating utensils.
As Pitt soaked the final remains of his stew with a biscuit, he pronounced it as the most magnificent meal he'd ever eaten. He thought it amazing how a small measure of food could rejuvenate his optimism again. After they finished, the Kid produced a half-full bottle of Old Overholt straight rye whiskey and passed it around.
"Well now, if you've a mind to, why don't you boys tell me why you're driv
in' around the worst part of the Sahara in a car that looks as old as I am."
"We're searching for a source of toxic contamination that's polluting the Niger and being carried down to the sea," answered Pitt directly.
"That's a new one. Where's the stuff supposed to come from?"
"Either a chemical plant or a waste disposal facility."
The Kid shook his head. "Ain't nothin' like that in these parts."
"Any heavy construction around this section of the Sahara?" asked Giordino.
"Can't think of any, except maybe Fort Foureau a ways to the northwest."
"The solar detoxification plant run by the French?"
The Kid nodded. "A real big spread. Mr. Periwinkle and me tramped past it about six months ago. Got chased off. Guards everywhere. You'd have thought they were secretly buildin' nuclear bombs."
Pitt took a swallow of the rye, taking pleasure as it burned all the way down his throat to his stomach. He passed the bottle to Giordino. "Fort Foureau is too far from the Niger to pollute its water."
The Kid sat silent a moment. Finally, he stared at Pitt with a curious twinkle in his eyes. "It might if the plant sat over the Oued Zarit."
Pitt leaned forward and repeated, "Oued Zarit?"
"A legendary river that ran through Mali until a hundred and thirty years ago when it began sinkin' into the sands. The local nomads, myself included, think the Oued Zarit still flows underground and empties into the Niger."
"Like an aquifer."
"A what?"
"A geological stratum that allows water to penetrate through pores and openings," Pitt answered. "Usually through porous gravel or limestone caverns."
"All I know is that if you dig deep enough, you'll strike water in the old river channel."
"I never heard of a river disappearing yet continuing its course deep in the earth," said Giordino.
"Nothin's unusual in that," explained the Kid. "Most of the flow of the Mojave River runs under the Mojave Desert of California before emptyin' in a lake. There's one tale of a prospector finding a cave leading hundreds of feet down to the underground stream. So his story goes, he found tons of placer gold along the water."
Pitt turned and looked steadily at Giordino. "What do you think?"
"Sounds to me like Fort Foureau might be the only game in town," Giordino replied soberly.
