THE RUNAWAY
The three men toiled arduously for two days on the brick making. At the
end of that time the desert all about the camp was paved with adobe
brick, baking in the sun until Dick should come to start them on their
house building. On the evening of the second day, Roger tramped up to
the ranch house and proposed to Dick that they exchange work for half a
day; Roger to finish Dick's grading, while Dick instructed Gustav and
Ernest in the gentle art of adobe laying.
But Dick would not strike the bargain. "I've only an hour's work before
I'm ready to start the seeding," he said, "and I won't trust any one to
attend to that but myself. I'll just ride over to the Sun Plant in the
morning and it won't take half an hour to teach you fellows all I know
about putting up the house."
"I'm going too," said Felicia. She was sitting, cuddling her doll before
the fire, for the nights were still cool.
"Almost your bedtime, Felicia," warned Charley.
The child gave Roger an agonized look.
"I brought you a present, Felicia," he said, and pulled the tiny olla
out of his pocket.
"Oh, a water jar! Just like yours, Charley!" shrieked Felicia, taking
the little bowl carefully in her slender childish fingers. "Where did
you get it, Roger?"
Roger described his meeting with the squaws, and Dick added, "The whole
outfit is camping on a canyon the other side of the range. Old Rabbit
Tail told me this morning when he brought down the wood. It's there they
find the rock they make these ollas of. It's a kind of decomposed
granite. They pulverize it with their metates, add boiling water and get
a very fair clay. Qui-tha is up there with them and his strong medicine
has made a hit."
"Do they make dishes cheap, Dicky?" asked Felicia, crowding close to her
brother's knee. "Would they make me some doll dishes cheap, do you
think?"
Dick lifted the little girl to his knee and kissed her. "Why cheap,
little old chick-a-biddy?"
"Because I heard you tell Charley funds were getting awful low now you'd
sold the last of the turquoise. But this doll will starve, Dicky, if she
doesn't have dishes to eat off of."
"She looks fairly well fed," suggested Charley, shaking her head a
little helplessly over the frank statement of the family finances.
"She mustn't get run down, though," said Dick. "When I see one of the
squaws, I'll order some dishes, money or no money."
"I don't see why Aunt May didn't send along more of her toys," sighed
Charley. "It was so stupid of her! There is nothing at Archer's
Springs."
"Don't you worry, Charley!" cried Felicia. "The squaws will make me
some. I'll ask 'em."
"That's a good sport," said Dick, hugging the child against his broad
chest. He was Felicia's devoted slave, and Charley had no help from him
in maintaining discipline. It was she who said now:
"Look at the clock, Felicia, dear."
"I'd rather not," answered Felicia. Nevertheless, she slid off Dick's
lap and with the doll and the olla in her arms, kissed each of the
grown-ups in turn, and went off to bed.
"She's the best kid I ever saw," said Dick, after her bedroom door had
closed.
"And the prettiest," added Roger.
"You men spoil her," protested Charley, "and it's too bad because she
really is unusual."
"Pshaw! You were just like her," grunted Dick, "and we all petted you.
And heaven knows, you aren't spoiled. Of course, you're much too strict
with Felicia--and me."
Charley flushed. "You don't really think so, do you, Dick?" she asked.
Roger joined Dick in a chuckle at this. Charley's adoration of her
brother was obvious to the most casual observer. She laughed a little
herself and it occurred to Roger that her laugh was much like Felicia's,
just as innocent and spontaneous.
"I can always get a rise that way, eh, old girl," cried Dick. "And I
know why you're blushing. You hate on top of this, to remind me that I
haven't bedded the horses. Well, I'll attend to it instantly and relieve
your embarrassment. I'll be back in a moment, Roger."
"Dick is in good trim again," said Roger.
"Oh, I do so hope he'll stay well!" exclaimed Charley with a sudden
fervor that surprised Roger. "He's such a dear and he's been so
handicapped! I think it's going to make a big difference to him, having
Felicia and you people here. He's been so lonely."
"Haven't you been lonely?" asked Roger.
"Yes," replied Charley. Then after a pause, "How does your work go?"
"Very slowly! I get half crazy with impatience. Even after all the
warnings I received, I had no idea of the difficulties in the desert. I
realize now that I'm only about half equipped, for desert building."
"You mean mentally or financially?" asked Charley with a quick look.
"Financially, of course--or--what made you ask me that?" Roger's voice
was a little indignant.
"Well, you see," answered Charley, "I've been in the desert longer than
you and I know that impatience leads to madness. And you're an impatient
sort of person."
"Impatient!" Roger burst out. "Impatient! When for ten years I've clung
to one idea, hoping against hope, believing that the impossible would
happen."
"You poor boy! Don't you suppose I know? But now that you're down here
at work, you've got to be even more patient. The desert is cussed mean.
You and Dick have both got to contend with the old vixen for a long time
before you put your dreams through."
"Don't you worry about my impatience," replied Roger. "My middle name is
patience. You'll see!"
Dick's cheerful whistle came up the trail. Charley looked at Roger as he
thoughtfully relighted his pipe. His bronze black hair was ruddy in the
firelight, Charley liked his hair and she liked his square jaw and deep
gray eyes, though they seemed to her a little cold and selfish as were
his lips. Charley had been educated with boys in the big middle western
town whither the Prebles had moved. From the time that she had entered
kindergarten at four until she graduated from college at twenty-two she
had buffeted through life shoulder to shoulder with boys. Charley knew
men and she had read Roger as clearly as though his mind were an open
book. She knew that the desert would either make or ruin a man of
Roger's temperament.
Dick swung open the kitchen door. Roger rose, slowly.
"You folks had better have supper with us, to-morrow night," he
suggested.
The Prebles accepted with alacrity and Roger wandered slowly home across
the desert. He liked the Prebles, better than he had ever liked any
family but Ernest's. Patience! He'd show that tall, dark-eyed girl that
his fund was limitless.
Schmidt was worth two ordinary men, in spite of the fact that he was not
in full health, and that he was deliberate in all his movements. His
deliberation meant that he used his head to guide his hands. What with
his steady persistent following of Roger's rapid, feverish energy and of
Ernest's cheerful conscientious poddering, by mid-afternoon the engine
house walls were half finished. When Charley, carrying a great basket,
reached them about sundown, the door frames were almost covered in.
Ernest introduced Schmidt, who laughingly showed his muddy hands.
"I never saw three people who more evidently needed baths," Charley
laughed in turn. "I suppose Felicia is the worst of the lot. Where is
the child?"
"Felicia!" ejaculated Roger.
"She hasn't been here to-day," exclaimed Ernest.
Charley set the basket slowly down on the sand while her face whitened.
"She started down here at nine o'clock with her doll and her olla."
There was a moment's silence, then Roger cried cheerfully, "Well, don't
be frightened! Nothing could have happened to her. She must have gone on
an investigating trip of her own."
"I'll go after Preble," said Ernest, "and we'll take the horses and
round her up in a jiffy."
He and Gustav started immediately up the trail. Roger stopped long
enough to carry the heavy basket to the cook tent. "Look out for Miss
Preble, will you, Mrs. von Minden?" he said to that lady who was
finishing her second meal.
"I must go home," faltered Charley. "She may--Roger, look in the old
Mellish shaft." She gave a little sob and Mrs. von Minden suddenly put
her arm about her.
Roger started on a run after the others.
They overtook Dick, just as he was turning out of the lower end of the
alfalfa field into the trail. At their shout he pulled up the horses and
waited. He began to unharness before the first sentence was finished. He
and Roger both mounted, leaving Gustav and Ernest to go up to the corral
after the other two horses. Just at this moment there came through the
afterglow a familiar treble shriek.
"Oh! Oh! Dickeee!"
The four men were motionless. Coming down the trail from the mountains
was a little figure in blue overalls, curly head glorious in the last of
the sunset gleam.
"Wait for me, Roger, wait!" shrieked Felicia, trying to quicken a very
tired gait, and much impeded by a basket, which she clasped with both
arms. Ernest suddenly broke into a run and picked the child up, basket
and all. Dick dropped from his horse and followed to lift her away from
Ernest's clinging arms.
"She's my sister, let me take her," he said hoarsely.
"Vere vas you, liebchen?" asked Schmidt.
"Well," said Felicia, looking a little bewildered--"Oh, Roger dear,
look--the squaw gave me a basket and some eenty dishes, just like the
olla."
"Felicia, where have you been?" begged Roger; "tell us, honey."
"Why, I just went over the mountain to find the place Dick told about
where the Indians make dishes. And I got lost, and a squaw found me and
I had a funny dinner with her and I bought these dishes and I told her
Dick would pay for them and I brought you each a present and I'm awful
tired." She stopped for lack of breath.
Dick looked helplessly at the other men. "It's five mountain miles to
that Indian camp," he said.
"I got tired," Felicia nodded her head, "but Qui-tha brought me home. He
wanted some more peroxide. So I gave him the bottle in your room, Dicky.
He was so good to bring me home. He went right back with it."
"I wish I'd had a quart for the good old fool," said Dick.
"Where are you all going? Where's Charley?" asked Felicia.
"She's nearly frantic about you," exclaimed Roger. "We were all going to
look for you."
Felicia's liquid eyes widened with sudden understanding. "Put me down,
Dick, I want to go to Charley."
"Here she comes now," said Ernest.
Charley was breathless with running. Felicia set her basket in the sand
and rushed into her sister's arms. The men all started explaining at
once. Charley, still clasping Felicia, listened, then looked down on the
curly head resting against her heart.
"Felicia, how could you be so naughty," she asked gently.
"Now, don't you scold her, Charley," protested Dick.
"Do I ever scold any one, Dick? Only Felicia must realize that she did a
very dangerous thing that she must never, never do again."
"How do you mean, dangerous?" asked Felicia. "Did I make you feel badly,
Charley?"
"You made me sick at heart with fear, Felicia," replied Charley.
Felicia gave a great sob. "Oh, I wouldn't do that for anything!"
"I move," said Roger, "that we go on over to the Sun Plant and that the
two ladies talk this over after supper. And I'll carry Felicia
pig-a-back."
The motion was unanimously carried. Ernest went up to help Dick with the
chores and Roger and Gustav prepared supper while Charley sat on the
bench with Felicia in her lap, and directed operations. The pot of beans
and the biscuit she had brought in the basket made the meal-getting a
simple matter. Mrs. von Minden was almost human, that evening. She sat
with the young people during their meal and for an hour afterward, once
rising, unexpectedly, to kiss Charley.
Felicia went to sleep when half way through supper, just after she had
given Roger his present.
"It's a little clock," she said, holding out a small steam gauge, rusty
and battered. "I found it in one of the sheds up on the mountain, where
I stopped to rest."
Roger looked at it curiously. "That was an expensive gauge in its day,"
he said. "How do you suppose she happened to find it?"
"Harder not to find it," replied Dick. "The ranges are full of deserted
mines. They took out all the free gold, then tried to work out the rest,
found it too expensive, went broke and walked out. There's enough fine
machinery up in the mountains to make you believe what folks say around
here, that more money goes into the ground than ever comes out of it."
Roger looked at Dick thoughtfully. "I'm glad to know that," he said.
"Felicia's given me a sure-enough present, haven't you, little girl?"
But Felicia, her head burrowed against Dick's willing shoulder was fast
asleep.
"When do you expect to cut your first crop, Dick?" asked Ernest.
"If the alfalfa gets a toe hold before the first of May I'll get a crop
this summer. The dust storms don't begin till May. They all blow down
from the north or west and I'm sure that that draw between here and the
field will protect me. I shall start cottonwoods and arrow-weed wind
breaks as soon as I turn the water in. Hackett is getting some young
trees for me."
"Isn't farming a terrible thing--terrible," said Mrs. von Minden
suddenly. Then she closed her eyes and began to speak rapidly. "When we
first came out here Otto wanted me to run a ranch for him while he did
his other work. I was so innocent and so ignorant that I let him start
me at it.
"In the Colorado river bottoms it was, below Fort Mohave. A group of
fools like me thought to grow alfalfa in the bottom land, and dike the
fields to keep the Colorado out at flood. Covered with arrow-weed, six
and eight feet tall, the land was, when we got there. But the dikes were
finished and some of the folks were beginning to clear the land.
"Otto cut enough arrow weed to put the tent up and then he found that he
must put our bed high on a platform, the rattlesnakes were so thick.
This done, he left me some money and told me to get an Indian to help me
and off he went on one of his prospecting trips. I used to lie at night
staring at the sky and crying with fear, fear of Otto and fear of the
snakes that rattled and whirred all night.
"I found an Indian and he and I cleared about five acres of land and got
the seed in. But the water used to run out of my mouth every minute with
the snake fear. Then one night a rattler got one of our horses and my
fear of what Otto would say if the other was bitten was greater than my
fear of the snakes, and one night, while I watched beside the remaining
horse, I killed a rattler. I waited for him to coil, then as I had seen
the others do, I brought the butt end of an arrow-weed down on the coils
and my fear of snakes was gone.
"Food was hard to get. There were only eight of us there. And as it got
hot, some of them left. By the time we were expecting the river to rise
in spring flood, there were only three fools in the colony. And I seldom
saw the other two. There was a hundred acres of arrow-weed between them
and me. My Indian left, after the crop came up. So I was all alone when
the flood came. The first day my dikes began to leak. For eighteen hours
I toted adobe to mend them with. When my strength gave out the water was
two feet deep over my little field. My baby came that night, much too
soon. I'd have died just as it did, if my Indian with a squaw hadn't
happened back to beg for food. They took me over to the California side
in their flat boat, and I never went back to the ranch again, though
Otto tried to make me."
There was silence for a time. Mrs. von Minden, eyes still closed, seemed
to be concentrating. Suddenly Charley leaned forward to say a little
huskily,
"But why are you going back to him, Mrs. von Minden?"
"I have a message for him from the Yogis."
"I know him pretty well," Charley went on, carefully, "and he's been
very kind to me. But he's never mentioned you. He's quick and queer,
he's been alone so much, and very quick with his gun."
"He won't touch me," answered Mrs. von Minden. "He's afraid of me, the
German bully."
"Tut, madam, tut!" exclaimed Gustav. "Germans no more mistreat their
vomen than other peoples."
Madam opened her eyes. "Tell that to some one who hasn't been married to
one."
"There are brutes in all nations," said Ernest. "You certainly have had
more than your share of trouble."
"Hah!" the gaunt face in the rocking chair was scornful, "I merely told
you my ranching experience. I've mined with Otto, too, and prospected
and herded sheep and cattle and run a boarding house."
"Mrs. von Minden, you can't be very comfortable in this rough camp,"
pleaded Charley. "Do come up to my comfortable house. I'd love to have a
woman visitor."
"You're very kind, my child, but I must stay here. I've been so
ordered."
"We'd better be starting back, Charley," suggested Dick. "Felicia is
getting sounder asleep every minute."
And so the party ended.
The erection of the engine house went on briskly. Before even Roger's
impatience could have demanded it, the sheet iron roof was on and
Schmidt began to putter with the doors and windows. The completed
building was not unpicturesque. The dull yellow-gray walls were topped
by a roof of red corrugated iron, with deeply projecting eaves.
Roger had bought the sheet iron from Dick, who had used considerable of
this material in the buildings round his turquoise mine. Ernest and
Gustav toiled up to the mine one morning and at night returned with a
good supply of the sheet iron. Roger made a concrete base for the
engine, at one end of the building. Gustav made two doors, one for
either end, by nailing the corrugated iron onto a wooden frame. A work
bench and shelves erected by Ernest completed the work on the engine
house except for the hanging of the doors.
The three workmen were pleased with their job and sat contemplating it
in great contentment, one evening after supper.
"The engine should be here next month," said Roger.
"That is to be of your design?" asked Gustav.
Roger nodded. "The Dean of our old college is getting it made for us. He
began work on it as soon as we closed the deal with Austin. If he
doesn't hustle we'll be ready for it before he is. We'll begin work on
the absorber, to-morrow."
"I must uphang my door to-morrow," said Gustav. "Vat place did you put
the hinges?"
"Hinges! By Jove, we haven't a hinge to our names!" exclaimed Ernest.
"Dick will have to help us out again."
But for once Dick failed them. "It's too bad," he told Ernest the next
day, "but I've been meaning to get hinges every time I've gone to town.
But I forgot. You'll have to use some stout leather, the way I do."
"Well, let me have some leather, then," begged Ernest
"Sorry, old chap, but there's not a scrap of leather an inch long around
this place. You see I sole Charley's and my shoes, and I've robbed all
the mines around here of belting to do it with and that doesn't mean
that I've had much belting either. Lots of other people have had the
same idea I've had. But take a day off and go up to the Sun's Luck, five
miles up that trail yonder and I think you'll find a few pieces."
Ernest groaned, then laughed. "Dick, poor old Roger will faint at the
idea of more delay, and for hinges! We'd better let the doors go till
some of us go into Archer's."
Dick shook his head. "Ern, you get those doors up, and up right. I'm
betting on there not being a real sand storm for six weeks yet, but if
one should come, and you have any delicate apparatus in the engine
house, you'll regret not having sand proof doors and windows. And to
tell the truth, Charley and Felicia are both nearly bare foot."
"So am I," said Ernest, "and Rog is too."
"What's a day in the desert?" laughed Dick. "Go on and bring down some
leather for the crowd, Ern."
And go he did, although Roger protested until Ernest mentioned the
matter of Charley's and Felicia's shoes. Then he gave a ready consent.
Ernest returned by mid-afternoon with perhaps a yard of belting, the
half of which he gave to Dick, much to that hard worked gentleman's
delight.
The days passed swiftly. Ernest was less homesick after Schmidt's
arrival and the intelligent German's industry and interest in the work
completely won Roger's heart. When the week of his visit was up, Roger
resolved that he would find a way to feed three instead of two if he had
to start the camp to eating desert mice. He wrote now to the Dean,
asking him to sell his laboratory equipment. Dick took the letter to
town.
The absorber was not as ambitious a structure as the engine house.
Nevertheless, it took twice as long to build as Roger had thought it
would. The foundations consisted of a shallow trough raised from the
ground on four by four supports. It covered several hundred square feet
and sloped very gently to carry the flow of oil. It was covered with
double layers of window sash. The task of laying this was considerable
and in spite of the men's best efforts, the breakage was large enough to
use up practically all the reserve glass. But the most trying task of
all was that of making the great trough leak proof with asphaltum. Even
after the rest of the job was done and the huge cold frame lay gleaming
mightily in the desert sun, the men still puttered with leaks in the
trough, which they tested by pouring water over in lieu of the oil which
would ultimately form the flow.
Roger and Ernest were at work on this task one morning when Gustav
returned with a barrel of water from the ranch. Before driving back with
the team he came excitedly round the corner of the engine house.
"The alfalfa vas up already!" he shouted. "A little shadow of green on
yellow sand. Lieber Gott! vat a country! And the kleine Felicia almost
eating it like a little rabbit. And Dick talks like it vas golt. And he
vas vorried. He says a sand storm vas coming to-day. Look!"
Gustav pointed down the valley to the south. A gray blue haze, not
unlike a sea fog, was slowly advancing.
"Fasten up the tents. I go back mit the horses," said Gustav,
disappearing as abruptly as he had arrived.
"If any one thinks a little thing like a sand storm can stop work on the
plant, he's mistaken," grunted Roger. "Anyhow Dick said one wasn't due
for six weeks."
Ernest looked from the approaching gray cloud to Roger's obstinate
mouth, shrugged his shoulders and daubed another brush full of hot
asphaltum over a crack.
Suddenly a hot blast of air took their hats off. The tent gave a boom.
The window-sash resting against the engine house wall fell with a
tinkling crack. Without a word the two men ran to close the tent. When
they had finished, the whole world was a swirling dust cloud through
which they could not perceive each other when ten feet apart.
"Make for the engine house!" roared Ernest. "I'll fetch the old lady."
He was better than his word for he brought not only the madam, but her
rocking chair and a book. Certainly no one could have accused their
visitor of being a trial. She took the storm with the utmost philosophy
and spoke scarcely a hundred words until the storm was over.
When he had stowed Mrs. von Minden and her rocker inside Ernest slammed
the door shut and turned the button. "If Gustav tries to get back
through this, he'll lose his way, without fail," said Roger.
"How long do you suppose it'll last?" asked Ernest.
"The Lord knows! Have you got any tobacco with you?" Roger sat down on a
box of window glass and took out his pipe. For half an hour they sat
listening to the howl of the wind while Madam read.
"Evidently it doesn't intend to quit for a while," said Roger finally.
"Guess I'll make up my diary and write some letters. I understand now
why Dick was so insistent on this adobe. You take a look at the cook
tent and I'll see if the house tent is still standing while I get some
paper."
The wind increased in violence until long past noon. They retrieved some
canned stuff from the kitchen tent and ate it with their mouths full of
the sand that sifted through the cracks of the doors and windows. Madam
satisfied herself with crackers. It was very hot, even in the adobe.
About three o'clock Roger wiped the sweat out of his eyes and
paused--pipe poised:
"It's letting up, Ern," he said.
Ernest paused to listen. There was a perceptible lull in the uproar, and
the lull increased until at five o'clock they emerged from their
shelter. The air had miraculously cleared. The sky was a deep, rich
violet and the desert, lighted by the westering sun, was a beaten gold
and remodeled to unfamiliar lines. Well known cat's-claw and cactus
clumps had disappeared. A sand drift a foot in length covered the well
curb. A drift that touched the thatch lay against the east side of the
cook tent and had spilled within, half burying the tables and benches.
Within the living tent, sand lay thick on trunks and cots. But the tents
had withstood the day's siege, stolidly.
"Let's look at the absorber," said Roger, gloomily.
They plowed through a great billow of sand at the end of the engine
house. Ernest groaned. Two of the four by fours at the end of the great
trough had been undermined and had collapsed, carrying a great part of
the trough with it. The exposed part of the trough was filled with an
indiscriminate mixture of sand and asphaltum.
"My God! What a country!" cried Ernest.
"My God! What a pair of fools," returned Roger. "After all Dick's
warnings, why didn't we build for sand storms! Lend me a hand here,
Ern, with this four by four. My word! Where's Dick going? Hey, Dick!
What's your hurry?"
He might as well have hailed the setting sun. Dick driving his own team,
Hackett's hitched to his wagon tail, whirled by at a gallop.
Roger and Ernest stood gaping, first at the receding puff of dust on the
Archer's Springs trail, then at each other.
"Something's wrong at the ranch!" exclaimed Roger finally.
Ernest nodded and they both turned to stare toward the ranch house. As
they stood scowling into the blinding desert light, a little gray burro
rounded the corner of the cook tent, and a moment later Crazy Dutch
appeared.
"We need a traffic policeman in this desert," said Ernest solemnly.
"There's too much passing at this corner."
"Get your gun, quick, Ern. It's Von Minden," cried Roger.
Ernest obeyed hurriedly. But the visitor shot his arms even more
hurriedly into the air.
"Don't shoot!" he cried. "My gun's strapped on Peter. I came to make
apologies. Search Peter and me."
"I certainly will," said Roger, starting to suit action to word, as
Ernest came running back with his shot gun. But he was interrupted. Mrs.
von Minden came slowly forth from her tent, the broom in her hand with
which she had been sweeping the sand drifts from her bed and floor.
"Gott im Himmel!" roared Crazy Dutch.
"He cannot hear such as you." Madam's tone was grim, as she advanced
majestically.
She was a good foot taller than her husband, but he did not flinch, even
at sight of the broom.
"What are you doing here?" he took a threatening step toward her.
"I was waiting for you, Otto."
"Well, I don't want you. I finished with you a good many years ago.
There are just two things in my life now and they are my work and my
emperor."
"Fudge!" exclaimed Mrs. von Minden, unexpectedly. "There's just two
things in your life, just as there's always been, your work and your
German cussedness. Otto, I want that strong box of yours. Give it to me
and I'll go back to Phoenix."
Crazy Dutch gave an ugly laugh. "I'm likely to do that! What do you want
of it?"
"If you won't let me take it, let me go through it. There is something
in it I want."
"And what is that?" queried her husband.
"I don't know," replied Madam, very simply.
"You don't know?" roared Crazy Dutch.
"No, Otto, I don't know. The Yogis told me to come up and they told me
that when I went through the papers I would recognize some that I
wanted."
Von Minden turned appealingly to Roger and Ernest. "Have you any idea
what she's talking about?"
Ernest shook his head.
"Wouldn't you like to go into the engine house to talk this over?"
suggested Roger. "You'd have privacy there."
"Don't leave me alone with him," exclaimed Mrs. von Minden. "He's not
safe."
"All right," said Roger. "I've searched him and now I'm going through
his pack, and I shall confiscate any weapon I find."
"Don't you dare to give her my strong box," shouted Crazy Dutch.
"I'll put the box back where I find it," replied Roger. "Come on, Ern,
begin."
It was a pitifully mean little pack, quite poverty stricken compared
with Mrs. von Minden's. A woolen quilt and a Navajo, a coffee pot,
frying pan and a small sack of sugar, a canteen, a flannel shirt and a
pair of ragged socks, a gun, a small strong box, with a geological
hammer, a barometer and a compass, comprised Peter's load.
Roger took the gun into the living tent and Ernest remade the pack.
During the search, Mrs. von Minden had not spoken, though she eyed the
work with keenest interest.
"Now," said Roger, "I will tell you both frankly that I don't care to
have a family row carried on in this camp."
"I'm not trying to row, certainly," exclaimed von Minden. "It's all this
woman."
"The woman is your wife, isn't she?" asked Ernest.
"In name only. I tell you I finished with women, years ago."
"But I haven't finished with you yet," commented his wife.
"What can you do to me?" sneered Crazy Dutch.
"I can do what They tell me. And They tell me to hang on to you like
grim death until They bid me stop. I shall follow you and that strong
box to the end of the earth, Otto!"
"But why! But why! You've always been glad enough to be rid of me
before."
Mrs. von Minden, her pink sunbonnet pushed back to her shoulders, her
eyes gleaming, took a menacing step toward her husband, and her voice
rose hysterically.
"I know you! I know you! With your sneaking ways and your secret
letters. I know that you're a dirty German spy. I know what that box
holds. But what I want out of it is my marriage certificate and whatever
else They tell me. I can't read German and They can. I can't throw fear
into your black heart but They can. And if I told you the way They have
interpreted some of your acts to me, you would crawl on your hands and
knees to me."
Von Minden watched the woman with a stolid face. "Who are They?" he
growled.
"They are the spirits of the dead. The great ones of the Universe are
talking to me now, Otto von Minden! They directed me here. The hand of
Fate is in it. Listen! You have not long to live, Otto. And all that you
have lived for will be dust and ashes. All the work that you have done
will be cast to the four winds of Heaven, while this man," pointing to
Roger, "will found your empire for you. You have planted in intrigue and
you will die in shame. Otto, let me go through the strong box."
"Clarissa," exclaimed Von Minden, with for the first time a note of pity
in his voice, "you've gone crazy."
His wife smiled sardonically. "I'm going to see what is in the strong
box, if I follow you to China," and with this she turned on her heel and
disappeared into her tent. Nor did she come out again that night.
"Now, Mr. von Minden," said Roger sternly. "I tell you quite frankly,
that you're not welcome here. If Miss Preble hadn't interceded for you,
I'd hand you over to the authorities."
Crazy Dutch nodded affably. "You're quite right. I deserve it. But I've
had a touch of the sun and for a moment I was out of my head. In this
lonely country we must bear with each other."
"The way you bear with your wife, I suppose," suggested Ernest.
Von Minden looked half apprehensively over his shoulder at his wife's
tent, then he said in a confidential whisper, "Now _she_ is crazy and
has been for years. Only she's crazy all the time so the only thing to
do is to keep away from her. She was a very good, hard working woman,
once."
"So I should judge from what she tells us," Roger's voice was grim. "It
strikes us that you treated her as if she were a horse and not a woman.
But that's not our business. Why did you come back here, Von Minden?"
"I came to apologize."
"Well, I accept the apology. Now you had better go on about your
business and I'll get your wife back to Phoenix, some way."
Von Minden drew himself up. "I beg your pardon, Mr. Moore, I'm not in
the habit of being spoken to in this manner. Apologize at once!"
Roger turned red. "Why you infernal little shrimp--" he began.
But Ernest interrupted. "Keep your temper, Rog. All this isn't worth
seeing red for."
"Of course it isn't," said the little German briskly. "Now I'm planning
to spend the evening with the Prebles and then I'll go on into the
range. Peter, my dear, I'll give you a drink now. We were out in all
this storm, gentlemen, but we don't mind them, Peter and I. There is a
beauty about them, these passions of the desert. How are the Prebles?"
The two men started. "We were going up there," said Ernest. "Dick just
went driving by at a gallop, without a word, toward Archer's Springs."
Von Minden scowled, started to speak, was silent, then said: "What do
you think was the matter?"
"Let's go find out," urged Ernest.
The three men, Peter trailing at the rear, started hurriedly along the
half obliterated trail toward the ranch.
The stillness after the day of warfare was heavenly. The violet of the
sky had changed to the blue of larkspur, that now was shot with lacey
streamers, rose pink from the setting sun. An oriole, balancing itself
on Dick's line fence, poured forth a melody of transporting sweetness.
"O, by Jove!" exclaimed Roger suddenly, "look at Dick's alfalfa!"
The oriole fluttered away as they approached the fence. The field had
not drifted badly. The draw to the north had prevented that. But the
bright green shadow on the yellow sand of which Gustav had told them in
the morning, was no more. A huge blight lay on the field with every
tender plant blackened and dead.
"Poor old Dick!" groaned Ernest. Then he added plaintively, "But he's no
tenderfoot. He knows desert storms. Why did he attempt it?"
"A storm like this, this time of year, is unheard of," said Von Minden.
"Close to the mountain like this, Dick was choosing a good spot. See
there are few drifts. Poor fellow!"
There were actual tears in Ernest's blue eyes as he looked at the
blackened field. "Let's get to the girls," he urged.
At the corral gate they met Gustav.
"What's the trouble, Gustav?" cried Roger.
"Dick he vent to the field down to see how the alfalfa vas, then he came
running like a mad man. He scolded Fraeulein Charley like it vas her
fault, then he ran to the corral, hitched up and vent."
"But didn't you try to stop him?" demanded Roger.
"Not Fraeulein Charley. She just sat on the step and little Felicia on
her lap and say nothing. But I vent to the corral to talk to Dick and he
told me to go to hell. He vas a mad man, I tell you. Now I go milk."
Charley, at the sound of voices, came out to the steps. "Hello, Uncle
Otto," she called. The men looked up at her. Her tanned cheeks were
flushed, her fine square shoulders were tense. But her voice was gay:
"Have you and Mr. Moore had your duel?"
"It's postponed," replied Crazy Dutch.
Felicia scrambled past her sister and ran down to Roger: "Dick went away
mad," she exclaimed. "He scolded Charley and me awful and made me cry. I
hate to cry. It hurts my insides so."
Charley had joined them now. "Poor Dick!" she said. "That alfalfa field
was dearer to him than any of you know. He'll cool down by the time he
reaches Archer's and brings back more seed. Why can't you all stay to
supper here?"
"It's too much trouble for you," protested Ernest, weakly.
"You can all help," said Charley. "Please all stay." Something in the
eagerness of her low voice touched Roger as it did the other men.
"Of course, we're delighted to stay," he exclaimed, tossing Felicia to
his shoulder. "Come along, chicken, we'll split some wood for sister."
"And me, I must wash myself," said Crazy Dutch, "and give Peter some
hay."
"And me, I'll help get the supper," said Ernest.