Picking out the ponies for the desert journey. The Overland girls
meet Hi Lang. Grace selects an "outlaw" pony. "Don't reckon you'll
be able to stick on him," warns the guide. Grace Harlowe flings
herself into the saddle, braced for the shock.
CHAPTER II--AN "OUTLAW" MEETS HIS MATCH
Grace fights a stubborn battle with the vicious bronco. "Look
out!" yells the guide. "Wall, ef thet don't beat the Dutch!"
exclaims a cowboy. A fainting conqueror. Cowboys voice their
admiration of the Overland girl, and Bud offers his services in
the event of trouble.
CHAPTER III--A THRILLING MOMENT
Enthusiastic plainsmen give Grace a Mexican lasso. The start for
the desert. A rousing good-bye that ends in disaster. Elfreda and
Grace accomplish a difficult feat. "Hang on! We'll stop him!" The
runaway bronco is thrown. "They're caught!"
CHAPTER IV--PING WING MAKES A DISCOVERY
Elfreda confesses to being "all mussed up," and gives first aid to
an injured cowboy. The lure of the desert. Welcomed at their first
camp by Ping Wing. The Chinaman as a songbird. The Overland Eiders
are aroused by cries and shots.
CHAPTER V--STALKING A MOUNTAIN MYSTERY
Ping uses a frying pan and a can of tomatoes as his weapons.
Scooting for a mysterious foe. "Put up your hands! I have you
covered!" Grace Harlowe exchanges shots with her adversary, then
suddenly sinks out of sight.
CHAPTER VI--INTO THE GREAT SILENCE
Hi stalks an unseen enemy and wings him. The hole in the mountain.
"The hound! He hit her! I'll kill him for that!" Grace,
unconscious, is carried into camp. "This is not a gunshot wound!"
Bullets are fired into the camp of the Overlanders.
CHAPTER VII--THE FIRST DESERT CAMP
Hi Lang shows his charges how to make a campfire on the desert. A
water hole is found. "Some one is trying to poison us!" groans
Hippy. The guide warns the campers against scorpions. Emma Dean
wishes she had gone to the seashore.
CHAPTER VIII--CALLERS DROP IN
Amid scenes of desolation. "A party of horsemen coming this way!"
The Overland party prepares for trouble. Hippy is doused by a wild
desert rider. "Get off my desert!" orders Lieutenant Wingate. The
leader is kicked into a water hole. The battle at the water hole.
CHAPTER IX--PIRATES GET A HOT RECEPTION
Bullets fly fast in the desert camp. Grace protests against Hi
Lang's order to shoot the attackers' ponies. Miss Briggs dresses
the wounds of the victims. The guide reads danger signals in the
sky.
CHAPTER X--WHEN THE BLOW FELL
"It's here!" mutters Hi Lang. Enveloped in a wild desert
sandstorm. "Down! Everybody down!" Overland girls nearly buried
under drifting sands, and camp equipment is wrecked and blown
away. "The water hole is lost!" announces the guide.
CHAPTER XI--FACING A NEW PERIL
Ponies stray away in the storm. On the trail of the missing ones.
The Overland girl makes a capture. Headed for Death Valley. Grace
Harlowe is lost, but doesn't know it. Hi Lang goes to the rescue
and follows her trail.
CHAPTER XII--A BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT
"We must find water!" declares Hi Lang impressively. The search
for a desert "tank" begun by the weary Riders. Directed to smell
for water. A thrilling discovery. Hopes dashed to earth. "Get back
to your positions!" orders the guide.
CHAPTER XIII--A STARTLING ALARM
Supper is eaten without water or tea. Hi Lang shows the girls how
to extract food and moisture from a cactus plant. "This is
heavenly!" gasps Emma, and wonders why they did not bring an
artesian well. Shouts and screams suddenly disturb the camp.
CHAPTER XIV--THE MYSTERIOUS HORSEMAN
Hippy Wingate falls into the desert. A happy accident. "Water! I
smell it!" cries Grace. Signal shots are fired. A desert wanderer
rides in begging for water. A solitary horseman views the
Overlanders from afar.
CHAPTER XV--THE GUIDE READS A DESERT TRAIL
A stranger's warning interests Hi Lang. Why the desert wanderer is
always listening. More desert secrets revealed. Emma Dean dreams
of snakes and things. Grace Harlowe is complimented. Hi tells the
Overlanders what the mysterious horseman is.
CHAPTER XVI--THE CROSS ON THE DESERT
Grace learns to throw the lasso. An unpleasant discovery. The
mystery box at the foot of the cross. Emma is eager to see their
find opened. "It rattles like gold," declares Hippy. Lieutenant
Wingate raises the cover of the mystery box.
CHAPTER XVII--ANOTHER MYSTERY TO SOLVE
What the Overland Riders found in the buried tin box. The map that
aroused the curiosity of all. "I'll bury the old thing," declares
Hippy. Hi Lang empties his rifle at the mysterious horseman, and
later makes discoveries.
CHAPTER XVIII--AN OLD INDIAN TRICK
The most trying day of all. Hi Lang utters a warning. A cloud that
aroused suspicion. Overlanders meet with a keen disappointment.
"Folks, the tank is dry! The water hole has been tampered with!"
announces the Overlanders' guide.
CHAPTER XIX--THE WARNING
An all-night ride for Forty-Mile Canyon. The red star is Hi Lang's
beacon. Hippy Wingate mourns at missing a meal. Emma comes a
cropper in a mountain stream. "The last spot made when the world
was built." In camp in the Specter Range. Grace Harlowe's
discovery.
CHAPTER XX--CONCLUSION
Grace Harlowe wades into the mountain stream and suddenly
disappears. A remarkable scene behind the waterfall. Grace makes
an important capture. Mountain and desert mysteries unveiled.
Lindy becomes the daughter of five mothers. Home!
GRACE HARLOWE'S OVERLAND RIDERS ON THE GREAT AMERICAN DESERT
CHAPTER I
WHEN THE COWBOYS LAUGHED
"Grace Harlowe, do you realize what an indulgent husband you
have?" demanded Elfreda Briggs severely.
"Why, of course I do," replied Grace, giving her companion a quick
glance of inquiry. "Why this sudden realization of the fact on
your part!"
"I was thinking of the really desperate journey we are about to
undertake--the journey across the desert that lies just beyond the
Cactus Range you can see over yonder," answered Miss Briggs, as
she gazed out through the open window of their hotel at Elk Run,
to the distant landscape to which she had referred. "What I am
curious about is how Tom ever came to consent to your attempting
such an adventure."
"I presume he really would have made serious objection had it not
been for the fact that he had signed up for that forestry contract
in Oregon. Tom knew that I would have a lonely summer at home,
and, I believe, deep down in his heart, felt that were he to deny
me the pleasure of this trip, I might break my neck driving my
car. You see, since I drove an ambulance in France I do not
exactly creep along the roads with my spirited little roadster."
"He did not object to the trip then?"
"Well, he did threaten to balk when I told him that we Overlanders
had planned to ride horseback across the Great American Desert,
starting from Elk Run, Nevada. However, he listened to reason. Tom
is such a dear," reflected Grace.
"Yes, reason in the form of Grace Harlowe Gray," nodded Elfreda
understandingly. "Should I ever have the misfortune to possess a
husband I hope he may be as amenable to reason. Where is Tom, by
the way?"
"He has gone out with Hippy Wingate to look for one Hiram Lang,
known hereabouts as Hi Lang, the man who is to act as our guide
and protector across the desert. He is Mr. Fairweather's cousin,
you will recall, and my one great hope is that he may prove to be
as fine a character as the man who piloted us over the Old Apache
Trail last summer."
"I sincerely hope, for our sake, that he knows his business,"
nodded Elfreda Briggs.
"Where did you leave the girls?" questioned Grace.
"I left Emma Dean, Anne Nesbit and Nora Wingate at the general
store where they were selecting picture cards of wild west scenes
to send to the folks back home. By the way, when does Tom leave
for Oregon?"
"To-night. I wish it were possible for him to go with us, knowing
that it would prove an interesting experience for him, but now
that he is out of the army he feels that he must get to work
without loss of time. Tom now has a large family to look after--
Yvonne and my own little self."
"I should say that, after fighting Bolshevists in Russia for the
better part of a year, the desert would be a rather tame
experience for him," observed Miss Briggs. "Of course he cannot be
blamed for desiring to get to work. I feel the same way about
myself, but since my return from France my law practice has been
about what it was while I was serving my country on the other side
of the Atlantic Ocean--nothing at all--so I might as well be on
the desert as in my office."
"Your practice will come back, Elfreda. Don't worry, but in the
meantime try to have the best kind of a time and set what happens
this fall. I hear Tom's step."
A knock followed the brisk step in the hallway, and Grace's
husband entered. Elfreda rose, but Grace held out a hand as a
signal that her friend was not to leave.
"Well, Tom dear, did you find him?" questioned Grace.
"Oh, yes. This town isn't so large that one can well miss finding
any one. Your man, Hi Lang, is getting the ponies into the corral
and you girls are to go out there and make your selections."
"Did Mr. Lang say why he had not called here to see us?" asked
Grace.
"No, he didn't say much of anything. He is not of the saying kind.
I suppose he expected you to look him up. Besides, he is very busy
getting ready for you, I could see that. If you are ready we will
go over to the corral now."
"Where did you leave Hippy?" asked Miss Briggs.
"Talking horse with the owner of the ponies," Grace's husband
informed her, whereat both girls smiled understandingly, knowing
quite well that Hippy Wingate was posing as an expert on horses,
whereas about all the knowledge he possessed in that direction had
been gained from the ride over the Apache Trail during the
previous summer.
Tom led the two girls to the corral at the extreme edge of the
little western village. Anne, Emma and Nora already had found
their way there and were watching the wranglers, as the men who
catch up the ponies are called, roping broncos and leading them
out for the inspection of Lieutenant Wingate and the guide.
"My, but they are a lively bunch," exclaimed Miss Briggs.
The roped ponies were bucking and squealing and biting and
kicking. A suffocating gray cloud of alkali dust hung over the
corral, and, altogether, the scene was not only exciting, but it
stirred feelings of alarm in some of Grace Harlowe's Overland
Riders.
"Surely, Grace, you girls aren't going to ride those wild
animals!" protested Tom Gray.
"Judging from the performances I have just witnessed, I am
inclined to think we are not," replied Grace whimsically. "Which
is Mr. Lang?"
"The man with his hat off leading the pony from the corral."
Tom beckoned to the man who was to guide the Overlanders across
the desert, and, as soon as he had turned the protesting bronco
over to a cowboy, the guide responded to Tom Gray's summons.
"Lang, this is Mrs. Gray and Miss Briggs," said Tom by way of
introduction.
"Reckon I'm mighty glad to know you all," greeted the guide,
mopping the perspiration from his forehead with his sleeve.
Hi Lang interested Grace at once. Of medium height, thin-featured,
with a complexion that reminded her of wrinkled parchment, eyes
that, though intelligent and alert, frequently took on a dreamy,
far-away expression, Hiram Lang proved a new type of westerner to
Grace Harlowe.
"Got your telegram that you reckoned on starting to-day," he told
her.
"Yes. Of course we do not wish to hurry you, but we are eager to
get on our way. What about the supplies and equipment! Have you
ordered everything that I suggested?"
The guide nodded.
"The stuff already has gone on ahead in charge of Ping Wing--"
"Who?" laughed Elfreda Briggs.
"Ping Wing, a Chinaman, with four lazy burros. Good man. Can cook,
too. Been on the desert before. Lively as a cricket. Only trouble
with Ping is that he thinks he can sing. Ride and shoot?" he
demanded, abruptly changing the subject.
"I am not much of a rider, but manage to stick to the saddle most
of the time," answered Grace. "I shoot a little. We are all
novices, with the exception of Lieutenant Wingate who is an
excellent shot. The lieutenant was a fighting aviator in the war."
Hi nodded and stroked his chin.
"Reckoned you could ride some. When we get out on the desert I'll
see how you can shoot. When do you think you want to start?"
"I will leave that to you," replied Grace.
"Three o'clock this afternoon. We'll make the range where Ping
will be waiting for us, and have chow there, then go on in the
cool of the evening. Want to look over the broncos?"
"If you please. I should like to try the ponies that we are to
ride."
"Do--do they always kick and buck as we saw them do just now?"
questioned Miss Briggs apprehensively.
The guide shook his head and grinned.
"They don't like to be roped, that's all. No bronco does. They'll
be as all right as a bronc' can be, so long as you don't use the
spur or get the critters stubborn."
"If you say they are perfectly safe for my friends to ride, I am
satisfied, though I should like to try them out. Hippy, have you
ridden any of these animals?" asked Grace, turning to Lieutenant
Wingate.
"He tried to," observed Tom Gray dryly. "Hippy mounted one on one
side and promptly fell off on the other before getting his feet in
the stirrups. It was not the pony's fault, however, but Hippy's
clumsiness that caused the disaster."
"That's right, have all the fun at my expense you wish. I am the
comedian of this outfit anyway," protested Hippy. "Let's see you
ride one of them, Brown Eyes," he urged, speaking to Grace.
"Please have them saddled one by one and I will try them, Mr.
Lang," directed Grace. "Any pony that I can ride, the others
surely can."
The guide nodded and turned away. Grace watched the saddling with
keen interest, especially the saddling of the first pony selected
for her, which squealed and pawed and danced as the cinch-girth
was being tightened.
"Vicious!" objected Elfreda Briggs.
"No," answered Grace. "Just playful. If the others are no worse,
we shall have a good bunch of horses."
The saddle being secured, Grace stepped up and petted the little
animal for a few moments, then mounted. The pony danced under her,
then, at a word, galloped off. The Overland girl rode but a short
distance, and, turning back, trotted up to the group smilingly.
"Spirited but sweet," was her comment as she dismounted. "He will
be all right if he is used right. Try him, Elfreda. I know you
will like him."
Miss Briggs took her test without falling off, and promptly
claimed the little brown animal as her own private mount.
"You made a most excellent selection, Mr. Lang," complimented
Grace, after she had tried the ponies for the rest of the girls
and found them suitable. Each girl also tried out and selected her
own mount from those that Grace had approved, the cowboys and half
the village being interested spectators. Grace was pleased, both
with the ponies and with the riding of her girl friends. Not the
least of those who were pleased was Hi Lang, who, before the
coming of the outfit, had felt considerable doubt as to the
success of the proposed jaunt. Now he knew that the Overland
Riders were not rank greenhorns, as he expressed it to himself.
"Which animal did you think of selecting for me!" asked Grace
smilingly.
"Reckoned you'd do that for yourself," answered the guide.
"Thank you. Please have that black roped and brought out. He is
the one I think will please me," replied Grace promptly.
"What, that black bronc'? He's a lively one, Mrs. Gray. Don't
reckon you'll be able to stick on him at all," warned Hi Lang.
"I have fallen off before, sir. Have him roped and brought out.
I'll try him out."
The guide shrugged his shoulders and walked over to the head
wrangler.
"Why take such unnecessary chances!" begged Tom Gray. "Surely
there are plenty of ponies in the bunch that are safe for you to
ride."
"Tom, surely the black one can be no worse than that wild western
pony that I bought last fall and rode. You know he was supposed to
be the last word in viciousness and bucking ability, but I rode
him successfully."
"Very well, go ahead. You won't be satisfied until you have tried
him, but remember, I warned you," returned Grace's husband with
some heat.
"Now, Tom," begged Grace pleadingly. "Please don't be a cross bear
and spoil my trip. You have been so perfectly lovely about it
right up to this moment, that it would be too bad if you were to
get peevish now. If you say I must not, of course I will not try
to ride the animal, but I do so want him."
Tom Gray shrugged his shoulders and laughed.
"Go to it, little woman. You have my full permission to break your
neck if you insist. I will see that little Yvonne keeps your
memory green."
"Oh, Tom! You are such a dear, but I promise you that you won't
have occasion to keep my memory green so far as that mischievous
little black pony is concerned."
Grace Harlowe's confidence in herself was not without good and
sufficient reason. The western pony that she had ridden the
previous winter had demonstrated nearly all the tricks known to
the stubborn broncos of the great west. At first Grace had had
some bad spills, but eventually she learned to outwit her pony and
ride him no matter how savagely he tried to unhorse her.
Not only had Grace learned to ride, in anticipation of another
summer in the saddle, but, under her husband's instruction, she
had taken up revolver shooting, and by spring was capable of
qualifying as an expert, especially in quick shooting at moving
targets. Thus fitted for the strenuous life in the wilder parts of
her native land, Grace looked forward with calm assurance to the
experiences that she knew lay before her.
"Bring out the black," Hi Lang had directed. "Cinch him so tight
it will make him squeal."
When a wrangler's rope caught him, the wiry little animal fought
viciously for a few moments, then suddenly surrendered and was led
out as docile as a lamb.
"Who said that black is vicious?" demanded Hippy Wingate.
"Want to ride him?" asked the guide good-naturedly.
"No. I have a real pony for myself."
"Watch those ears, Grace," warned Tom Gray.
"I am," replied Grace, and Hi Lang, overhearing, grunted his
satisfaction.
The black pony's ears were tilted back at an angle of forty-five
degrees, and there he held them while the saddle was being set in
place, and the girth cinched, both forefeet spread wide apart and
head well down. He winced a little as the girth was drawn a hole
tighter so that the saddle might not slip, but otherwise made no
move, which, the cowboys said, was an unusual thing for him to do.
The pony's sudden surrender was of itself suspicious to those who
were familiar with the western bronco, and the laid-back ears were
significant to them of trouble to come.
"Is he an outlaw!" asked Grace, meaning an animal naturally so
vicious that he never had been satisfactorily broken.
Hi Lang, to whom the question had been addressed, gave Grace a
quick glance of inquiry.
"Some call him that. At least he's got the ginger in him, and
mebby he is an outlaw. Keep a tight rein on him; don't let him get
his head down if you can help his doing so, and stick to your
leather. Watch him every second, for he's got a box full of
tricks."
"Thank you for the suggestions. I shall not forget."
"I ought not let you ride him. I reckon you'll get enough of the
critter before you have ridden him many minutes, even if you stick
on that long."
"Mr. Lang, I intend to ride that 'critter,' as you call him,
across the desert. Will he bolt while I am mounting?"
"Mebby. All ready now."
"Have you any last requests to make, Grace Harlowe?" asked Elfreda
Briggs frowningly. Elfreda strongly disapproved of Grace's
"foolhardiness," as she called it.
"Yes, keep back and give me plenty of room. See that the other
girls do the same. The black may do a little side-stepping."
Grace, as she had done with the other ponies before mounting,
stepped up to the black and began petting and caressing him, now
and then straightening up the animal's ears, chiding him as she
might a child. This made the cowboys laugh. Cowboys when subduing
broncos do not ordinarily do so with anything resembling baby
talk, and it was their firm conviction that this pretty young
tenderfoot from the east was about to get the surprise of her
life. Instead of feeling sorry for her, however, the souls of the
cowboys were filled with joy at the prospect of some real fun. It
was not often that they were privileged to see an innocent
easterner make an exhibition of himself on a vicious western pony,
and this was the first time they had ever seen a woman from the
east attempt to ride a bucking bronco, which made the occasion all
the more interesting.
"Stand clear, please," warned Grace, giving the pony's neck a
final pat, and at the same time edging her way back from his head,
measuring the distance to the stirrup with her eyes.
"I'll give you the word when to hit the leather," directed Hi in a
low voice. "Watch your step."
Grace acknowledged the warning with a brief nod, watching the
black's head narrowly. The animal still stood with forefeet braced
apart, head slightly lowered, ears, it seemed, flatter than ever.
"If I miss it I'm lost," muttered Grace, referring to the stirrup.
"Ready," warned the voice of the guide.
The girl's left hand holding the bridle rein crept cautiously to
the pommel of the saddle.
"Now!"
Grace's left foot caught the stirrup and, like a flash, the
Overland girl landed hard and firmly seated on the saddle, the
right foot in the stirrup on that side, then, with the aid of
stirrup and cantle, she braced herself to meet the shock that she
knew was right at hand.