A faint, cooling breath, wafted across the desert, fanned the cheek of Hi Lang. He inhaled deeply of it, not once, but several times.
"It is here!" he muttered, "I hope it may be a light one." Saying which the guide rose and walked briskly to the ponies' tethering ground. The animals were restive, they were stepping from side to side and an occasional snort was heard, but they quieted down when he went among them and spoke soothing words, petting an animal here, restaking another one there until he had spoken to each bronco in the outfit.
The guide's next move was to step to Hippy's tent and awaken him.
"What is it? Have the desert pirates returned?" questioned Hippy, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.
"No! Something worse is coming. Do not awaken the young ladies just yet. Come out I will show you a great sight."
Hippy sprang up and followed the guide. Hi paused by the embers of the camp fire long enough to stamp them out.
"So they do not blow about and set our equipment on fire," he explained.
"Where's the sight?" demanded the lieutenant.
"Look yonder!" directed Hi, pointing toward the western horizon.
The mist had disappeared from the sky like magic and the stars once more shone out with all their former brilliancy. Off to the westward, however, there were no stars to be seen. In their place, stretched clear across the horizon, lay a cloud, black as ink.
"Watch the upper edge of the cloud," said the guide in a low tone.
"It is rolling like the surf," exclaimed Hippy.
"Yes, and in that cloud are tons upon tons of sand that the cloud is carrying along with it. We'll lose a stretch of our desert here in a few moments."
"Is there nothing that we can do to protect ourselves, Hi?"
"Not a thing. The equipment has been securely packed. I had Ping put the rifles in a sack and stand them upright in a hole in the ground so we may find them after the storm. Without weapons we should be in a bad way, especially if our friends, the pirates, return, but I reckon that what's left of that crowd will be pretty well sanded. This storm is going to pile right up on the range that we left behind us."
A distant, menacing roar now became audible to the two men, such a roar as one can hear by placing an ear to the opening of a conch shell, but magnified perhaps a million times.
The cool breeze, that had shortly before warned Hi Lang, now became a chill blast, moderate, but plainly thrust ahead by a mighty force behind it.
"Good night!" exclaimed Lieutenant Wingate. "That breeze must have been born up in Iceland. Talk about your heat on the desert! Perhaps we shall have some cool weather here after the storm passes."
Hi Lang laughed.
"Don't fool yourself, Lieutenant. It will be hotter than ever to- morrow, blistering, sizzling hot; and the water courses probably will dive deeper into the earth and give us no end of trouble to find them. I—-"
"It is coming, isn't it?" questioned Graces who had been awakened by the breeze and had come up behind Hippy and Mr. Lang without their hearing her.
"It's well on the way, Mrs. Gray. Perhaps it might be well to awaken the young ladies. Knock down your tents and sit on them or you won't have any tents left. Reckon we'd better do the same, Lieutenant."
It was plain that the storm soon would be upon them and all haste was made to prepare for the blow. The tents were laid flat, weighted with such equipment as might be expected to hold them there, and the Overland Riders stood or crouched a little fearful in this new mystery of the desert.
"Getting closer!" announced the guide.
"What shall we do?" asked Hippy.
"Lie down when you can no longer stand up, and take pot luck."
"Any orders, Mr. Lang?" called Grace Harlowe.
"Yes. Lie down facing the storm and wind your blankets about you. Be sure to keep your heads covered. If you find that the sand is piling up on your backs, shake it off."
"If you get buried perhaps you may find a tank down there," suggested Hippy, but no one laughed at his sally. "There goes that crazy Chinaman again. I hope he chokes."
"He will if he keeps his mouth open much longer."
Ping had broken out in song, which the wind was not yet strong enough to smother.
"Sometim' you look-see piece sand he walkee mountain high, Jist t'hen wind knock top-side off an' blow 'um up to sky. Jist so my heart walk up inside—befo' he sinkee down—"
That was the last heard of Ping Wing for some time, the concluding words of his song having been lost in a burst of wind that drowned out every other sound.
"Down! Everybody down!" yelled the guide just before the blast struck them.
The sandstorm swooped down on them suddenly, bringing with it black night, a roaring, booming, hideous thing. Sand rained on the blankets, covering the girls of the Overland Riders, and now and then some heavier object, they knew not what, struck one or more of them, adding to the terror of the moment.
Emma Dean struggled and moaned in her fright. Her blanket, loosened by her movements, was whisked into the air and out of sight in a twinkling. She screamed for help, but no one heard her, and Emma threw herself down in the sand, or was blown over when she struggled to a sitting position. There she lay, her face buried in the sand, sobbing and moaning.
Not a sound had been uttered by any of the other girls. They were listening, listening, wondering how much longer they would be able to endure the terrific strain under which they were laboring.
Such wind no person there, except Hi Lang, had ever dreamed could be possible. Grace found herself wondering if the Arabian simoon, of which she had read, could possibly be deadlier. She doubted it.
By now the girls were fighting to keep from being buried alive, and in their choking, suffocating condition they tried to sit up for air. All lost their blankets instantly. The sand beat on their faces and heads like sharp-pointed tiny hailstones. Their eyes were blinded by it, and their bodies burned as if they had been rubbed with sandpaper, but there was nothing that could be done to relieve their suffering because no person could stand up against the mighty force of the wind.
The storm, it seemed to them, lasted for hours, though as a matter of fact it had blown itself out within fifteen minutes from the time it struck them.
"Backbone of the storm is broken," yelled the guide in Hippy's ear, both being under the same blanket.
"So is mine," Hippy howled back. "There's a ton of sand, if there is a pound on it, this very minute. Hope the girls are safe. Can we get out?"
"No. The wind is too strong. It will die out in a few moments.I'll go out the minute I can crawl."
The men waited several minutes, during which the gale was steadily decreasing. The guide finally poked his head from under the blanket, shading his eyes with a hand to keep the blowing sand out, before opening them.
"Cover your eyes and come on," he said, crawling out and starting to beat his way against the gale toward the spot where the Overland girls were supposed to be.
They were huddled together, with their arms about each other to keep from being blown away, every head resting on an arm as they lay face down on the ground.
"Stand up, but protect your eyes," shouted Hi. "Gale's almost over and done for."
"So—o—o are we," gasped Grace, staggering to her feet, and almost instantly landing on her back on the ground where the wind had hurled her.
Hi assisted her to her feet, Grace laughing and choking at the same time. The others, in turn, were lifted up by Hi and Hippy, all leaning against the wind, clinging to each other, and, with handkerchiefs in their mouths, breathing what air they could get in this way without taking in any more sand than they could help.
The wind stopped with a suddenness that left every one of the party unprepared. The result was that they fell forward on their faces, and for a few moments there was a mixup that, in ordinary circumstances, would have brought merry peals of laughter, but there was no laughter this time.
The eyes of the Overland Riders were so filled with sand that they were too blinded to see the stars that once more were shining "just above them."
"Wet your handkerchiefs with water from your canteens and wipe your eyes," suggested Grace.
"Go easy on the water," commanded the guide. "Let's see where we are at before we use water."
"You are right, sir. I had not thought of that," agreed Grace.
"Our buckets are full, aren't they?" questioned Anne.
"Yes—of sand," spoke up Elfreda.
"The first thing to do is to settle the water question. Ping!"
Ping Wing came running up, his white suit the color of the landscape, for Ping had been rolled in the sand to his utter undoing.
"Go see how many horses we have left."
"Me savvy. Tlee."
"Three? That is better than I hoped for," chuckled the guide. "With three we can reasonably look forward to finding the others somewhere on the desert, but we can't do much to improve our situation until daylight. No use to search for our equipment before then. I will look into the water question, however, right now."
"This is the most violent landscape that it has ever been my misfortune to gaze upon," declared Elfreda Briggs, tossing her fallen hair up and down to shake the sand out of it, a proceeding that was followed by each of the girls.
"At least we have one thing to be thankful for," observed Anne. "I thank my stars that it is so dark that we cannot see how really tough we do look."
"If I look as bad as I feel I must be a terrible sight," wailedEmma. "Here comes Hi. Have we water?"
"Not a drop except what you have in your canteens. The water hole is buried so deep that we have lost it. Guard every drop. We are in a serious situation."
"Aren't the water bags safe?" asked Hippy.
"They're gone," said the guide.
"Everything but the sand seems to be gone," observed Miss Briggs. "I suppose we should thank the kind fates that we still have plenty of sand."
"Plenty of some things is too much," declared Nora Wingate."Hippy, my darlin', you weren't hurt, were you?"
"Yes, I was killed, but I have come to life again. Hi, what is the next thing to be done?"
"Kill time until daylight!"
That was practically what the Overland Riders did, but with the first streaks of dawn the barren spot assumed an appearance of activity.
"Lieutenant, we'll go out and look for the horses," announced the guide.
"Is Blackie still here?" questioned Grace.
"No, but there are three ponies left, as you know. Wish to go along?"
"Yes."
Ping was directed what to do, and Miss Briggs was left to see that the orders of the guide were carried out during his absence. Hi, Hippy and Grace then mounted the remaining ponies and started away, working back toward the range that they had left two days before. The wind had blown in that direction and it was reasonable to suppose that the lost animals had been driven before it.
"Spread out, but keep within sight of the lieutenant, who will be middle man," directed the guide.
When they had finally taken up their positions, some three miles separated Grace Harlowe and the guide, with Hippy a mile and a half from each of the two outside riders.
The sun was not yet up, and the morning, while not uncomfortable, gave promise of what Hi Lang had said it would be—a sizzler.
The three had ridden for a full hour, when off to her right Grace discovered what she thought was one of their ponies. Urging her mount forward, she galloped rapidly in that direction, but after riding for some time she was amazed to find that the animal seemed to be as far away as when she had started toward him.
"I hope to goodness the pony I see isn't a desert mirage," muttered Grace. "Mirage or no mirage I am going to run it to earth."
She galloped on at a more rapid pace, but it was a long time, it seemed to Grace, before she saw that she really was nearing the little animal, who was browsing on desert sage, or what few scraps of it remained after the storm.
Hoping fervently that it was her own little spirited Blackie, Grace urged her mount forward at a lively clip and bore down on the bronco who began edging off when he saw her heading for him.
"It's Elfreda's pony!" cried Grace. "Here, boy; here, boy!" she called.
The "lost" animal kicked up its heels and started away at a gallop, with Grace Harlowe in full pursuit.
"How provoking!" cried Grace as the bronco kept galloping from her with aggravating persistence. The Overland girl rode and coaxed until she tired of it, then, touching her mount lightly with the crop, she dashed straight for the tantalizing roamer.
It was a race for a little while, the runners steadily drawing away from Hippy Wingate and Hi Lang, but to this Grace gave no thought. Once she nearly got her hand on the bridle of Elfreda's mount, but the little fellow dodged her at the critical moment.
"Oh, for a rope and the skill to throw it. I'll learn to throw a lasso at once. I see it is necessary out here. Whoa, boy!" she commanded sharply.
The runaway bronco stopped short, and, with feet spread apart, stood gazing at her as if daring the Overland girl to come and catch him. Grace decided to try new tactics. Dismounting, and slipping her bridle rein over one arm, she walked slowly toward the animal, plucking a bunch of sage as she went, and holding it out toward him.
The pony looked interested, his ears sloped forward and he took a step or two towards her. Grace walked up to him confidently, gave him the handful of sage and, after petting him, grasped the lead rope and then the bridle.
"All of which goes to prove the assertion that it is easier to catch flies with molasses than with vinegar. Now be a good boy, and we will jog back home to Elfreda," she soothed to the captured pony.
Mounting, and attaching the end of the lead rope to the pommel of her saddle, Grace started for camp. At least she thought that was what she did. Instead she was headed for the range of mountains on which they had first made camp. After a little the Overland Rider came to a realization that the guide and Hippy were nowhere in sight. Still, she was not greatly disturbed, but she was thirsty. A few drops of water from her canteen was all that she dared allow herself.
Grace had been traveling for the better part of an hour, from time to time glancing up at the glaring sun that was just rising, when she suddenly brought her pony up short.
"Do you think you can find the way back if I give you the rein?" she asked, petting her mount.
The pony pawed the dirt and whinnied, but his rider knew that it was because he too was thirsty, instead of being an answer to her question.
Grace paused to reflect over her situation, to consider what was the wise thing to do, finally deciding that she would follow her trail back to the spot at which she captured the pony.
"From there it should be easy for me to find my original trail; then all I shall have to do will be to follow it to the camp. We must go back," decided Grace, turning about and starting away at a trot, finding no difficulty in making out the tracks of the two ponies.
The spot at which she had found the lost bronco was reached at last. Grace sat for some moments, staring at the landscape, turning in her saddle until she had looked all the way around the compass, then, clucking to the two animals, trotted away, following her original trail.
As she progressed, the trail grew fainter, a desert breeze having almost obliterated the tracks her pony made on the way out with Hi Lang and Hippy Wingate. To make certain that she was on the right road, Grace got down and compared her mount's footprints with those that she was following.
"Yes, I am positive that I am right," she decided and once more set out. "Hark!" she exclaimed sharply.
Three faraway shots had been fired. Grace waited, and in a few moments the shots were repeated. She raised her revolver and fired three signal shots in return. She did this twice, then reloaded and thrust the revolver into its holster.
"It is doubtful if my shots can be heard, but I have the satisfaction of knowing that some one probably is out looking for me. We'll go in under our own power. They shan't say that we could not find our way home in broad daylight."
The rifle signal shots were repeated shortly after Grace got started again. She answered them, but was unable to tell from which direction the signals had come, though the shots sounded off to the right of her, but she decided to continue on in the direction she had chosen however, believing that she was headed towards the camp.
It was nearly noon when Grace discovered a horseman far to the right. He was too far away to be recognized, and, evidently, he had not seen her.
The Overland girl fired three shots into the air, which were answered by a similar signal, then the distant rider was seen to turn and gallop towards her. Grace headed for him, riding more slowly than she had been doing, and finally discovering that the horseman was Hi Lang.
Despite the confidence that Grace had felt in her ability to find her way in, she experienced a sense of relief. Now he would compliment her on her ability to find her way on a trackless waste such as this.
"Where have you been?" shouted Hi when near enough to make his voice heard.
"I went after Miss Briggs' pony, then got on the wrong trail, if there be such a thing as a trail on this landscape," answered Grace.
"We've been worrying about you. Did you get lost?"
"Well, not exactly. I was puzzled at first, but I was following my trail back towards the camp when you discovered me, or when I discovered you, to be exact."
"Hm—m—m—m!" mused the guide. "Do you know where you were headed for when I first saw you?"
"Why, yes. I told you. For the camp, was I not?"
Hi shook his head.
"If your canteen and rations had held out, and you'd kept on going the way you were headed, eventually you would have landed in Death Valley," the guide informed her.
"But I followed the tracks left by the pony I was riding," she protested.
"I reckon you followed some other pony's tracks, for I was on the trail of the bronc' you are riding."
"Mr. Lang, as a plainswoman I fear I am a miserable failure," complained the Overland girl.
"On the contrary you are very much of a success. You did not get panic-stricken when you found you had lost us, but you used your head. You found and followed a trail that would have fooled me as it did you."
"Thank you! How many of the ponies did you find?"
"All of 'em, lacking the one you have here; also found one that didn't belong to us. We sent him adrift."
"Oh, I am so glad. Then you have Blackie."
"Yes. Let's be going. Things at the camp are not very encouraging. Much of the equipment has been blown away or buried, but that isn't the worst of the situation."
"You mean water?" questioned Grace, regarding him inquiringly.
"Yes. We haven't been able to locate a tank to-day, and there isn't more than a quart altogether left in the canteens."
"What are we to do now?" asked Grace.
"We've got to pull up stakes and move. All hands must search for water—search until water is found, and keep moving forward at the same time. If we don't find it by night—-" The guide shrugged his shoulders and clucked to his pony. Grace, her face reflecting the concern she felt, followed at a gallop and they were soon raising a cloud of dust on the baking desert.
A wan and considerably mussed up party of girls met Grace and the guide when the two rode into what was left of their camp.
"Well, here we are at last," cried Grace cheerily.
"We thought you were lost. How could you have missed such an opportunity?" wondered Miss Briggs.
"I did not miss it, Elfreda dear. I got beautifully lost and didn't know it. Most persons when they get lost are very much alive to the fact, but I traveled on in blissful ignorance of the fact that I was headed straight for Death Valley."
"I wish you wouldn't talk about it. Death Valley reminds me of the experience we had last night," complained Emma.
"Oh, then you have been to Death Valley?" questioned Anne.
"No, I said—I mean I said—I mean I meant to have said that—-"
"Let it go at that. You will get tongue-tied if you keep on," warned Hippy Wingate. "We have something more serious on hand than to listen to your—"
"Yes, girls," interrupted Grace. "Mr. Lang tells me that we MUST move on immediately, that we MUST find water, and that, too, without delay. What shape are we in with regard to equipment?"
"We have our tents," answered Elfreda.
"Some cooking utensils, and our food, which Ping had the foresight to take to bed with him," said Anne Nesbit whimsically.
"Were the rifles saved?"
"All secure, and the ammunition too," replied Lieutenant Wingate. "I believe that a few blankets were blown away and lost, together with numerous odds and ends that weren't nailed down. What could you expect with a wind strong enough to blow our horses far out on the desert. Got any water?"
"I have some. Do you mean to tell me, Hippy Wingate, that an old campaigner like yourself has drunk up all the water he had in his canteen, and in the face of a great drouth?" demanded Grace, trying hard not to smile.
"Every last drop of it," admitted Hippy. "But what's a fellow to do when he is thirsty and his throat is cracking open?"
"Use the precious stuff sparingly. Here! Take a sip from my canteen. Only a sip, Lieutenant."
With the eyes of the entire party on him, Hippy dared not take more than enough water to moisten his throat. Grace then took the canteen from him, passing it to Emma.
"The same holds good for you, Emma," she said, "Take a sip and pass it along. What water is there may have to be our only supply all the rest of the afternoon."
"That's right, Mrs. Gray," spoke up Hi Lang. "Ping!"
"Les?"
"Are you all packed and ready?"
"Me belongee chop-chop," answered Ping, meaning that he was ready to move.
"Follow along behind us, but make those lazy burros keep close up. We don't want to lose you and have to look all over the desert for you. Now, folks, please listen carefully to what I have to say. While I do not wish to alarm you, it is well that you thoroughly understand what our situation is. We must find water. You will all spread out with an interval of a hundred yards, say, between ponies, and scrutinize every foot of ground on either side."
"Who goes where?" interrupted Emma.
"Please be quiet," rebuked Grace.
"I am coming to that," resumed the guide. "Two things I wish you to look for, alkali crusts that may cover a tank, and discolorations on the desert. That is, if you find a spot darker than the prevailing color of the ground, that discoloration may be the result of moisture. Do you get me?"
"Yes," answered the Overlanders in chorus.
"In the event of such a discovery, shout, or if I am too far away to hear your voice, fire one shot into the air. About the crusts that I spoke of, when you find one, hop off and break it in. You probably will not see water, even though it is there, but, after you have broken open the crust, thrust your head into the opening and sniff the air."
"What we need is a thirsty bird dog in this outfit," observedHippy, without the suggestion of a smile on his face.
Hi Lang permitted himself a brief silent laugh.
"What are we to sniff for?" questioned Emma in all seriousness.
"For a damp odor. The air under the crust, too, will be perhaps a degree cooler than the outer air. If it is a dry tank you will get a dry, earthy odor that you cannot mistake. The one who finds water will, as I have suggested, shout or shoot. The others will hold their positions until I have investigated.
"Another thing. Ponies familiar with desert conditions, as most of ours are, sometimes can smell water when they can't see it. If one of your animals suddenly bolts in a direction that you think he should not go, give him his head for a little way. He may lead you to water."
"Why didn't I think to put a divining rod in my pocket?" chuckledHippy.
"You brought a sweet little parasol, that blew away on the wings of the storm," reminded Nora. "Why didn't you bring something useful while you were about it?"
"Nora darling, didn't I bring you along? What, tell me, could be more useful to this outfit than your own beautiful little self?"
"Go on, go on with ye! If there were a Blarney Stone here I'd throw it at ye!" rebuked Nora, laughing in spite of her effort to be stern, joined in her merriment by the other girls of the outfit.
"Take your positions!" ordered the guide. "The lieutenant will take the center. To the right, Miss Dean, Miss Briggs. Left, Mrs. Nesbit, Mrs. Wingate and Mrs. Gray. I will take the extreme right. You, Mrs. Gray, will look after the extreme left. Keep your formation as well as you can so that we do not straggle too much. All ready!"
The Overland Riders swung themselves to their saddles and moved to the positions assigned to them, then started away, walking their ponies. Their line looked like a troop of cavalry going into action, except that the horses moved listlessly.
Emma found the first alkali tank, and getting off, broke the crust and thrust her head in the opening.
"What do you find?" called Hippy.
"Ugh! It smells like a rummage sale," answered Miss Dean.
"Dry!" announced Hippy. "Move along."
All along the line the girls were trying to make merry, trying to forget the terrible heat, a deadly burning heat, but their efforts in this direction were not very successful.
Heat waves shimmered over the white sands of the desert with not a breath of air stirring to relieve the deadly monotony. It did not seem possible to Elfreda Briggs that human beings long could endure such heat, and she wondered at the cheerfulness of her companions.
Hi Lang rode around behind the line of riders to see what it was that Emma Dean had discovered, but he paused at the dry water hole for but a moment, then hurried back to his position. Now and then one of the riders would dismount and examine a patch of ground, only to meet with disappointment.
They had come up to a vast cup-like depression in the desert, white with the alkali crust that covered its bottom, when Hi fired a signal shot to indicate that they were to halt for a rest.
"What is that big hole?" called Lieutenant Wingate.
"A prehistoric lake, in whose alkaline dust no plant, not even sage-brush, can grow, and upon which a puddle of rainwater becomes an almost deadly poison. This is one of the most thoroughly hated spots on the desert, hated and shunned by most of those who travel this way."
"Is there not water under the crust at the bottom?" asked MissDean.
"Not a drop. There probably has not been in centuries. No water is known to have been found within a few miles of this spot either, but, as I have said, one never knows, and the traveler must take nothing for granted."
"Fine place for a summer outing," observed Hippy.
"Probably there is on all the globe no other spot more forbidding, more desolate, more deadly," added the guide. "We must be going. Move on!"
All that afternoon the Overland Riders plodded wearily along, now and then hopes suddenly raised being dashed to earth by dry water holes. At the next halt, Hi passed along the line, giving each rider a sip of water from the slender supply in his canteen, Grace smilingly declining to drink.
"Have you any left in your canteen?" he asked.
"A few drops, but I am saving them until I am thirsty. I have been sucking the cork for the last hour." Grace then asked about the dry lake, and the guide repeated what he had said to Emma and Hippy.
"How are the girls standing the strain?" she questioned.
"Very well indeed. I hope they hold out as well until we find water."
"Now that there is no one but ourselves present, please tell me what the prospects are?" requested Grace.
"I can't, Mrs. Gray, for the very good reason that I don't know. Of course water we must have or we shall perish, and so will the ponies. As a last resort we can head for the nearest mountain range, but it would take us nearly two days to make it with ponies and riders in good working condition."
"Then the situation really is serious!" asked Grace.
"No, not yet, but we are on the verge of a serious situation. Yes, that about expresses it. However, I have hopes that we may find a tank about ten miles from here, one that I have never failed to find some water in, though at times it has been a mighty slow process to get it. I must get to the other end of the line now. Good luck."
Several tanks were found during the next few hours, but not a drop of water in any of them. It fell to Emma Dean to make a discovery, however, that thrilled all within sound of her voice.
"Water!" she screamed. "Water!"
"I believe you are right. Hooray!" shouted Hippy Wingate.
"I know I am. It's a lake, a lake full of beautiful blue water!" cried Emma. "Quick! Shoot to let the others know."
Instead of the agreed-upon single shot as the signal that water had been found, Hippy Wingate emptied his revolver into the air, then, urging on his weary pony, rode on ahead, with Emma following, shouting and urging her pony to go faster that she and Hippy might reach the precious water ahead of the others. Even Hippy was excited at the sight that had burst so unexpectedly on his smarting eyes, for there, a mile or so ahead, surely was a body of water that the guide himself had not known of or he surely would have told them.
Attracted by the shots, Hi Lang looked, first in the direction from which the shots had come, then off across the desert. What he saw led him to head towards Hippy and Emma, who themselves were traveling as fast as they could make their ponies go.
Some of the other Overland Riders had followed Emma and Hippy, they too having discovered the blue lake in the near distance.
The guide fired into the air, to recall the excited riders, but they gave no heed to his signal.
"Stop!" he shouted when near enough to make himself heard. "Stop,I say! You'll run your ponies to death."
"Water! Don't you see it?" cried Emma.
"No! That isn't water. Stop, I say!"
"The heat has gone to Hi's head," laughingly confided Hippy to Emma. "All right, old man, just trail along behind us and we'll show you," he flung back.
"Stop, Lieutenant! Listen to reason, won't you? What you see is a desert mirage. There isn't a lake within a hundred miles of us."
Hippy Wingate brought his pony to a slow stop, and Emma, who had heard, stopped about the same time.
"Mirage?" wondered Hippy stupidly.
"M—m—mister Lang, do—do you me—ean that wha—at we see isn't wa—ater at all?"
"It's a mirage, I tell you. Get back to your positions!"
Elfreda Briggs and Grace Harlowe did not give way to the panic that had seized their companions. Both had seen the mirage, each knew instinctively what it was, but when they saw Hi Lang overhaul the two leaders, Grace and Elfreda hurried in from their positions and joined their companions.
"Grace! Oh, Grace," moaned Emma as her friend rode up to them."Give me water or I shall die."
"Have courage, Emma dear. We are all suffering from thirst. Hand me your cup and I will give you a swallow. I don't dare trust you with the canteen."
Grace poured out about a tablespoonful of water, which Emma drank in one choking gulp. Each of the others got about the same quantity, but it was not much of a relief.
"Shall I return to my position now, sir?" questioned Grace of the guide. "Yes, please. I have told the others to do so at once. Hereafter, in no circumstances are you people to run away as you did just now. We must go on as rapidly as is consistent, until dark. I wish to reach a certain point before we stop for the night. We may find some relief there unless the storm has buried everything so deep that we cannot find the place," said Hi Lang.
"Do you mean water?" asked Elfreda.
"I am in hopes that it may be so, Miss Briggs."
"Alors! Let's go!"
The party broke up at once and rode to their positions, Emma Dean, red of face, her hair down her back, tear drops still trickling down her cheeks, leaving little furrows behind them, summoning all her courage and doing her best to regain control of herself.
The mirage had disappeared by the time the start was made, and did not appear again to tantalize the suffering Overland Riders. All the rest of the afternoon, eager eyes, reddened by the glare of the sun on the white desert, sought for water holes. None were found, not even dry tanks, but when darkness settled over the desert a faint breeze sprung up. They drank it in eagerly, taking long, deep breaths and uttering sighs of satisfaction.
Hi called the party together with a signal shot.
"How long before we make camp?" called Grace as she rode up.
"About five miles if my reckoning is right," answered the guide. "No need to look for water holes now that it is dark. We shan't find any unless we accidentally fall into one."
"You are about the most cheerful prophet I've ever known," declared Lieutenant Wingate. "Glad you weren't with us in the war."
"At least, Mr. Lang has made good all his forecasts. You must admit that," reminded Miss Briggs.
"He has, bad luck to him!" growled Hippy, which brought a grin to the thin, bronzed face of the desert guide.
It was nearly ten o 'clock when Hi finally ordered a halt. The Riders, upon looking about them, observed that there was considerable vegetation there, sage, cactus, dwarfed trees and shrubbery, scattered, twisted, misshapen things, all of them.
"Turn the ponies loose immediately," directed the guide. "They will get a little moisture from the green stuff. Never mind staking down. They will not run away. Ping, start a fire and cook something. Sorry, folks, but it will have to be a dry supper this time."
"Where is that relief you were promising us a century or so ago?" demanded Nora Wingate.
"Yes, Mr. Lang. We have been patient and borne our thirst uncomplainingly. Now, we MUST have relief. I don't want a dry supper, I want water!" cried Emma.
Anne said she feared that she too had about reached her limit.
"Be patient, girls. Mr. Lang is doing the best he can," urgedGrace.
"Yes, don't we know that?" agreed Miss Briggs. "He is splendid. I hope these unsolicited compliments do not turn your head, Mr. Lang," teased Elfreda.
The guide laughed silently.
"Come with me. We can pitch our tents later on," he directed, striding away. He led them through mesquite bushes, finally halting before a patch of odd, pumpkin-shaped cactus, that, with its grotesque shape, its spines and fishhooks, was far from being attractive-looking.
Hi's knife was out as he halted, and, with it, he laid open a cactus plant, revealing to the eager eyes of his charges a silver- white pulp glistening with water.
"This will relieve your thirst," he said, handing the white, moist mass to Emma.
"Oh—h—h—h!" gasped Miss Dean. "This is heavenly."
To each of the others Hi gave a handful of pulp.
"Nectar straight from Heaven," murmured Elfreda at her first taste. "Who would think that so much heavenliness could come from such a hideous plant, so hideous that, were I alone, it would give me the shivers to look at?"
Uttering exclamations of satisfaction and delight, the Overland girls ate and ate, soothing their throats and satisfying their thirst.
"Please tell us what this is, Mr. Lang," asked Grace.
"It is the bisnaga, sometimes called the 'niggerhead,' belonging to the cactus family, a plant that is ever hailed with joy by the thirsty traveler."
"It's a life saver," agreed Lieutenant Wingate. "Where is thatChinaman? Doesn't he ever get thirsty?"
"Don't worry about him. He is out there in the bushes now, swallowing 'niggerheads' as fast as he can gulp them down. This is one of the secrets of the desert. There are others—but a man must know them before he can take advantage of them."
"Tell us about them. I just dote on secrets," exclaimed Emma, her good nature now fully restored.
"They might answer for an emergency, but nothing short of real food would answer for me," declared Hippy.
"Just the same a man might live on what we see before us here for a long time," replied the guide. "If you will examine those mesquite bushes you will find a bean pod on them. It is a rich and nourishing food. Then there are the pears of the tuna and the fruit of the sahuaro or giant cactus."
"We saw a forest of them on the Apache Trail," Grace informed him.
"Yes, I know. You will find all of these nourishing foods about you here, hideous, some of them, but furnishing food and water that have saved the lives of many desert travelers.
"Besides these food plants of the desert, we have the cat's-claw, mesquite and cholla shrubs for fuel; the bear-grass and yuccas for camp-building. Better than a mirage, is it not, Miss Dean?"
Emma flushed.
"I don't know about that. The sight of that lake that wasn't a lake made me forget for the moment that I was thirsty," answered Emma spiritedly.
The Chinaman's shrill call for supper sounded while they were still talking. The girls, now greatly refreshed, turned campward and sat down on the ground to eat "poisoned pig," as Hippy Wingate had named the bacon with its bitter alkaline taste.
"I fear we are forgetting that we still are without water," reminded Grace after they had finished their supper, feeling more like themselves than at any time in the last two days.
"Don't throw a monkey-wrench in the machinery," begged Hippy. "Let's live while the living is good, and die when we haven't anything else to do."
"Grace is quite right," agreed Anne. "I am worrying about to- morrow myself."
"I have been thinking it over," spoke up Hi Lang. "I believe I will go out early in the morning and ride until noon. I can cover a lot of ground in that time, and if I do not find water, the chances are against our getting any in the direction we are going. In that event we will head for the mountains and fight our way through. I never knew so many water holes to fail, but the storm is largely responsible for that condition."
"Why didn't we bring an artesian well with us? I have heard that one could have water anywhere with one of those. Are they very heavy to carry?" asked Emma innocently.
A shout greeted her question, and the guide brushed a hand across his mouth to hide his silent laughter.
"What's the matter? Have I said something funny?" demanded Emma, bristling.
"That would be impossible," answered Hippy. "No, Emma Dean, an artesian well would be no burden to carry at all if one were able to solve the problem of how to carry it. All the makin's are right here, too. Hi, why didn't you bring a medium-sized artesian well with you! I am amazed that you would neglect to find a way to bring one along," rebuked Hippy.
"You are all making fun of me. I think you are real mean," poutedEmma.
"We're not," protested Hippy.
"Yes, he is, dear. Hippy, stop teasing Emma. She is worn out and irritable. By the way, Mr. Lang, what is an artesian well?" asked Nora, which brought down another shout of laughter, this time at her expense.
"I'm not irritable," objected Emma.
"An artesian well is a hole in the ground, Miss Dean," the guide gravely informed her.
"I'm going to bed!" announced Emma, getting up. "Am I to sleep in the open, or do we have tents to cover us to-night?" she asked with much dignity.
"Ping will pitch the tents. He is getting out the canvas now," replied Grace. "Before I turn in I am going out to eat some more 'niggerheads.' Any one going with me?"
All signified their desire to have more of the luscious white pulp, and in a few moments they were gorging themselves among the bisnagas.
The moon was now well along in its first quarter, and in the cool of the evening the Overland girls were in a frame of mind to appreciate and enjoy the scene.
"The desert has a strange and beguiling beauty all its own," murmured Grace.
"Yes," agreed Elfreda. "Such an evening as this makes one forget the awful heat, and lays hold of one's spirit. Then the silence— no whistling of wind, no rustling of leaves. Why, I find myself holding my breath so as not to break the silence."
"I had not observed it," retorted Grace, presenting a smiling face to her companion. "The camp should be ready by now. I move we go back and turn in."
"The mystery of it all, too," added Elfreda, turning to walk to the camp.
The guide told them not to be concerned at his absence if he did not get in until late on the following day, and the Overland Riders sought their blankets for a rest which all needed.
The night passed without one of the girls moving, so far as any of them could remember, when they were rudely awakened next morning.
Shouts and yells from Hippy Wingate, and a scream from Emma Dean, brought Grace, Elfreda, Anne and Nora to their feet, hurriedly throwing on sufficient clothing to make themselves presentable.
"Girls! Hurry, hurry!" shrieked Emma.
"Coming! Hold fast!" shouted Elfreda Briggs, running out ahead of the others.
"For mercy sake, what is it?" cried Elfreda.
Emma was dancing about in a high state of excitement.
"Hippy's gone down! Hippy's gone down!" she cried.
"Gone down where?" demanded Grace, appearing on the scene at that juncture.
"He must have gone very suddenly, for I surely heard him yell less than five minutes ago," averred Elfreda.
"Look, look!" urged Emma, pointing to Hippy's tent, only the top of which was visible above the ground.
Grace was already running towards the tent, believing she knew just what the trouble was.
"Hippy, are you there?" she called.
"I am that, what's left of me," answered a voice that sounded some distance away.
"Are you hurt?"
"No, Brown Eyes, I am not hurt. Please clear away the wreckage, so we can see what we have here."
Grace and Elfreda hauled the tent out of the hole in the alkali crust and peered in. Hippy was sitting at the bottom, about five feet below the surface, and the instant Grace thrust her head into the opening she uttered a cry.
"Water!" she exclaimed. "I smell it!"
"I tasted it when I landed on my head in the wet sand," answered Hippy. "It was good, but I'd a heap sight rather drink my water standing. One doesn't take in so much sand that way."
"Wa—ater!" gasped Emma Dean. "And it isn't another mirage?"
"It is water, my dear, but how much of a supply there is remains to be seen. What were you doing out so early?"
"I was going out to get some water food from that horrible looking pumpkin plant, or whatever it is."
"Ping! Oh, Ping! Fetch the water buckets. Hurry! Mr. Lang has gone, so we must do what is to be done before the water disappears. What happened, Hippy?" asked Grace.
"This did, Brown Eyes. I turned over on my blanket, then the earth yawned and swallowed me down. I slid in head first."
"Here are the buckets and the canvas. I think I will get down there and assist you. Girls, drink your fill, then water the ponies. No, you carry the water out and let Ping do the watering."
Hippy assisted Grace down. She dropped to her knees and immediately began digging in the sand, which was wet and sticky. With Hippy's aid, she patted the canvas blanket down as she had seen Hi Lang do it, and in a moment the water began seeping through. Grace observed that it seeped much more rapidly than when the guide had performed a similar operation.
"Buckets!" demanded Hippy.
They were lowered, and, in a few moments, half a dozen of them were filled and handed up to the outstretched hands waiting to receive them.
"This is splendid! I wish Mr. Lang were here. Too bad," saidGrace.
"Might it not be a good idea for us to fire signal shots to recall him? He may be within hearing. Sound carries a long distance on the desert," suggested Miss Briggs.
"Fine, J. Elfreda. Will you fire the shots?"
Miss Briggs said she would, and, in a few moments, three interval shots rang out. Elfreda fired the signal six times, listening after each signal for a reply. None was heard, however, and Grace suggested that she wait half an hour or so, then try it again.
The baling went on, but the ponies and burros drank the water faster than Grace and Hippy could get it out of the tank and pass it up to those who were carrying water to Ping who was giving it to the horses, singing as he worked. This was the happy refrain he sang:
"Look-see you bucket, 'fore you tly,Got lopee (rope) 'nuf to pump 'um dly.One piecee mouse can dlink at liver,But let he mousey tly for ever,All he can do top-sidee shoreIs squinch (quench) he t'hirst an 'nuffin more."
"Every 'r' is an 'l' with a Chinaman," laughed Anne.
"That is what makes their pidgin English so quaint," answered MissBriggs.
"Ping says the horses don't care for any more water," announcedNora, returning with two empty buckets.
"Pass them down," directed Hippy. "We will fill everything in camp, including ourselves."
When, they had finished with their work, the familiar, "Him come along," in Ping Wing's shrill voice, brought Hippy out of the water hole in a hurry.
"Are you going to leave me down here, Hippy Wingate, or are you going to assist me out?" reminded Grace.
"A thousand pardons! The thought of food drives every other thought from my mind." Hippy reached down and gave Grace a hand.
"Please fire another set of signal shots," suggested Grace, shaking out her skirt to free it from the damp sand. "Mr. Lang will be surprised when he finds that we have a water tank right here in camp. I hope he hears our shots."
Elfreda, having shot into the air six times, put down her rifle and joined her companions.
"Oh, doesn't that coffee smell good?" she cried. "A warm drink is even more necessary out here than it is in the city. I hope we never have another such a dry time as we have just experienced."
"Listen!" warned Grace, holding up a hand for silence.
The reports of two rifle shots were faintly borne to their ears.
"That's a signal. I heard the first a second before I spoke.Answer them, Elfreda."
Miss Briggs sprang up and fired the rifle three times. An answer came in the form of three reports that plainly were from a long distance away.
"That must be Mr. Lang. I am glad," said Grace, her face lighting up in a pleased smile.
"Him come along," announced Ping a few moments later, using the elastic expression that stood for the dinner call, as well as to indicate that some one was approaching.
The Overland girls stood up and, shading their eyes, gazed off over the desert. They saw a horseman approaching, but the pony he was riding appeared to be almost dragging himself along.
"That isn't Lang," exclaimed Hippy.
"I see it isn't," agreed Grace.
Being a lone rider the Overlanders knew they were safe from trouble so far as he was concerned, but they observed the rider narrowly as he neared the camp.
"Ping! Fetch water!" ordered Grace incisively. "That man and horse are exhausted."
"Water!" cried the man hoarsely as he rode up to them and would have fallen from his saddle had Hippy not sprung forward and grabbed him. He placed the exhausted man on the ground, and raising the rider's head, held a canteen to his lips.
"Take it easy, old top. Don't choke yourself. We have plenty, but you mustn't try to drink it all at once," admonished Lieutenant Wingate.
"Get food," directed Grace. "Coffee and whatever else you think he can eat."
Ping glided away to prepare the food, Nora and Anne, in the meantime, having brought water for the traveler's pony.
In a few moments the man sat up, holding his head in his hands.
"Here, bathe your face. It will cool you off," urged Elfreda. The traveler did so, and, by the time the coffee was ready, he was able to stand.
Ping had fried some bacon, and, with the coffee and biscuit, the traveler had a meal the like of which he had not eaten for many a long day. As yet, the man had spoken only one word—"water"—but he regarded the outfit with wide, inquiring eyes, as he ate greedily of the food placed before him.
"Where going?" he asked after finishing.
"Specter Range, I believe. Perhaps taking in the Shoshones. I am not certain. Our guide, Hi Lang, is not here just now."
"Bad gang there. Drove me out. Will drive you out." He would say no more, shaking his head when Grace pressed him for an explanation. After an hour's rest, during which the caller drank water until they feared for its effect on him, he filled his water bags from the water hole and lashed them to his pony and mounted. Elfreda handed him a chunk of bacon, which he acknowledged with a nod, and stuffed it into his kit.
The traveler now threw back his shoulders and peered at each member of the outfit in turn as if to impress their faces on his mind, then swept off his sombrero.
"Thankee, folks," he said, and, putting spurs to his pony, galloped away.
"There is one man to whom it would be perfectly safe to entrust a secret," declared Miss Briggs with emphasis.
"What a strange character," murmured Anne, as she gazed after the galloping pony. "I wonder who he can be."
"I am curious to know what he meant by warning us against the mountains," interjected Elfreda Briggs.
"And I am rather concerned about Mr. Lang," added Grace. "He must be a long way from here, else he would have heard our signal shots. I have an idea that our late caller must have heard them and that it was he who answered. That must be it. If so I am glad, for the poor fellow was ready to drop and so was his horse. Shall we fill the buckets?"
They did. The ponies were thirsty again, and it required several bucketfuls to satiate thirst, after which everything fillable was filled with water. Grace, to pass away the time, got out her lasso and tried to throw it, but she made a complete failure. In turn, each of the others tried their hand at throwing the rope, but with no better success. Ping offered himself for a mark, chattering like a magpie as, each time, the loop of the lasso collapsed before reaching him.
"What for you makee so fashion?" he cried between laughs, chuckles and grimaces.
"Never mind, Ping. You will not talkee 'so fashion' one day. When I learn to throw the rope, which I shall, I will rope you when you are not looking," threatened Grace.
"No can do," grinned the Chinaman. "HAI YAH! Man b'longey top-side horse," he cried, pointing off over the desert.
Looking in the direction in which he was pointing, the Overland girls saw in the far distance a horseman, sitting his mount so motionless that at first they were not positive whether it were a horseman or a distorted cactus plant.
Grace ran for her binoculars and for some minutes studied the stranger.
"That's our caller," suggested Hippy.
Maybe he has decided to hang around for another meal. I don't know that I blame him."
"No, it is not the same man, at least not same pony," answered Grace, snapping glasses shut. "The man yonder is riding a black pony. The one who called on us rode a nearly white animal. I can't imagine why he is so interested, but he is surely watching us. However, we won't worry so long as we have a water tank at hand."
At four o'clock in the afternoon the mysterious stranger was still in practically the same place. He appeared to move only when his pony stepped forward a few paces for more sagebrush.
"Man b'longey top-side horse!" cried Ping, again pointing in another direction.
The Overlanders saw a cloud of dust rolling toward them over the desert, ahead of the cloud being a horseman riding at a swift gallop.
"This would seem to be our day at home, judging from the number of callers who are dropping in," observed Elfreda.
Grace threw up her glasses and took a quick look.
"I can't make him out," she said. "It can't be Mr. Lang, for this man is coming from a direction different from the one he took, if the footprints of his pony leading out of this camp are any indication."
"Man b'longey horse hab go chop-chop!" volunteered Ping.
Looking quickly toward the west the Overlanders were amazed to find that the silent horseman who had had them under observation for hours was no longer in view. Though not more than two or three minutes had elapsed since Grace Harlowe last saw him, he had disappeared as suddenly as if the sands of the desert had opened and taken him in.
"Maybe he has fallen into a tank, just as I did," suggested Hippy.
"Mr. Lang is coming. It is he, after all," cried Grace joyously, as she gazed at the swiftly moving cloud of dust that Ping had called her attention to some moments before.