Different incident, dating from 1905. Here are the gory details:

In August of 1905, a wandering prospector named Pablo Valencia departed Wellton and headed south into the desert in pursuit of a lost gold mine. He was about forty years old, 155 pounds, rode a good horse, and carried along with him two two-gallon and two one-gallon canteens, for a total of six gallons of water, along with plenty of bread and sugar and cheese and coffee and tobacco and a sort of wheat meal called pinole. The first day he rode thirty-four miles and reached the spot near the southern tip of the Gila Mountains where the trail from Wellton intersected with the Camino del Diablo. Just to the west, a steep slope led up to a place known as Tinajas Altas, or High Tanks, where eroded stone basins usually contain pools of rainwater runoff. Tinajas Altas is the only semireliable water source along the Camino, and Valencia refilled his canteens there. As it happened, a self-taught geologist named WJ McGee had set up a camp nearby, working on a summer long project to monitor the heat and humidity of the surrounding desert. The two men dined together on jerked mountain-sheep meat before Valencia saddled up again and rode east.
Eight days later, just as dawn broke, McGee heard an inhuman sound, like the roaring of a lion, near his camp, and followed it to its source. He later described what he found in a paper called "Desert Thirst as Disease," which ran in a 1906 issue of the Interstate Medical Journal.
Valencia, who just the week before had been "of remarkably fine and vigorous physique — indeed, one of the best built Mexicans known to me," was now "stark naked; his formerly full-muscled legs and arms were shrunken and scrawny; his ribs ridged out like those of a starveling horse; his habitually plethoric abdomen was drawn in almost against his vertebral column; his lips had disappeared as if amputated, leaving low edges of blackened tissue; his teeth and gums projected like those of a skinned animal, but the flesh was black and dry as a hank of jerky; his nose was withered and shrunken to half its length; the nostril-lining showing black; his eyes were set in a winkless stare, with surrounding skin so contracted as to expose the conjunctiva, itself black as the gums; his face was dark as a negro ... his lower legs and feet, with forearms and hands, were torn and scratched by contact with thorns and sharp rocks, yet even the freshest cuts were as so many scratches in dry leather, without trace of blood or serum; his joints and bones stood out like those of a wasted sickling, though the skin clung to them in a way suggesting shrunken rawhide used in repairing a broken wheel. From inspection and handling, I estimated his weight at 115 to 120 pounds ... The mucus membrane lining mouth and throat was shriveled, cracked, and blackened, and his tongue shrunken to a mere bunch of black integument."
In the long history of people running out of water on the Camino del Diablo, there are two things that make the case of Pablo Valencia unusual.
First is the fact that WJ McGee, such a meticulous observer, was there to chronicle it.
Second is the fact that Valencia survived and eventually recovered.

I have visited the Tinajas Altas and the climb up to the water is a fairly gentle incline up which one can stroll with hands in one's pockets - when one is well hydrated on a nice day, that is.....