PING WING MAKES A DISCOVERY
When the cowboys, with Hi Lang in the lead, reached the Overland
girls, they discovered Grace Harlowe calmly sitting on the runaway
bronco's head to hold him down.
"Get Miss Briggs out from between the pony's legs. She can't help
herself. Drag the man out, too. The pony fell on him," urged
Grace.
"Are you hurt, Mrs. Gray!" begged Hi anxiously.
"No."
"And Miss Briggs!"
"I think not. She was a little stunned when we fell with the
bronco. Hold down his head so I can get to her."
Surrendering her seat on the bronco's head to a cowboy, Grace got
up and insisted in removing Elfreda from her perilous position.
They stood Miss Briggs on her feet, Grace supporting her with an
arm about her waist to give Elfreda opportunity to collect
herself.
"How do you feel now!" asked Grace.
"All--all mussed up," was J. Elfreda's characteristic reply.
Both girls showed the effects of their experience. Their hair was
hanging down their backs, their uniforms were covered with dust
and their faces were grimy from the alkali dirt of the plain.
"Let me walk you about to see if all your joints function,"
suggested Grace.
"They never again will do so properly as long as I live,"
complained Miss Briggs. "Did the ponies run away? I mean our
ponies."
"I have been too busy to notice. If you will sit down I will see
what I can do for the poor fellow who was dragged."
Elfreda insisted on assisting, and a moment later both girls were
kneeling beside the dazed, but conscious, cowboy whose clothing
was in tatters and whose face was scarcely recognizable from the
dust that was ground into it.
Grace moistened her handkerchief with water from her canteen and
bathed the man's face, and Elfreda, producing a bottle of smelling
salts, held it to his nostrils. The cowboy quickly came out of his
daze. One arm was doubled up under his body, and this Elfreda
Briggs carefully drew out. The cowboy groaned as she did so.
"Can you lift your arm!" she asked.
"No," gritted the cowboy, his face twisting with pain as he tried
to raise the arm.
"His left arm is broken," announced Elfreda. "Men, you must get
this poor fellow to town as quickly as possible. I will make a
sling to support the arm until you can get him to a surgeon."
"Do you folks reckon you want to go back to Elk Run, too?"
questioned the guide.
"I was about to ask that question of you," replied Grace, turning
to Elfreda.
"You should know better than to ask," returned Miss Briggs.
"We will go on, Mr. Lang. Perhaps it is as well that we have been
broken in properly at the start. We shall be in better form to
cope with real emergencies if such arise," declared Grace.
"Real! Huh!" grunted Hi Lang.
"Oh, you'll get used to having things happen," soothed Hippy
Wingate. "Wherever this outfit goes there is trouble and then some
more."
"Yes, but this is the worst," complained Emma Dean.
"Alors! Let's go," urged Elfreda Briggs as she got up after having
arranged a sling to support the cowboy's injured arm.
Their ponies were led up by the cowboys and the girls mounted for
a fresh start, Grace and Elfreda considerably rumpled and both
very tired after their lively experience. The cowboys, having
loaded their injured companion on a pony, now gave the Overland
girls a rousing farewell whoop and trotted slowly homeward.
Hi Lang had uttered no comment on what had occurred, but he was
keeping up a constant thinking, now and then scowling observingly
at his charges. Of Grace and Elfreda he had no doubts, for, in his
estimation, they had graduated from the tenderfoot class. The
others had yet to prove themselves.
The ride was hot and dusty, and, in order to make up for lost
time, the party was riding fast, but the ponies, though already
flecked with foam, appeared to be as fresh as at the start.
"What time do you think we will reach the mountains?" called Anne,
who was suffering tortures from the heat and dust.
"Sundown," briefly answered the guide. "It will be worse than this
after we reach the desert."
"Worse!" groaned Emma. "I shall expire, I know I shall."
The mountains, for which they were heading, were looming larger
now, and looked cool and inviting compared to the heat of their
present position.
"What is that smoke?" asked Grace Harlowe, as they neared the
range, pointing to a thin spiral of vapor rising from the
mountains.
"I reckon it's in our camp. Ping should have chow ready by the
time we get there."
"You intend to go on this evening, do you not?" asked Grace.
"Yes. You said you were in a hurry to get to the desert."
"I shouldn't put it that way, Mr. Lang, but I am rather eager to
get into the real phase of our journey, and eager to know what the
desert is like. I have a feeling that I shall love it."
"Some do--some hate it," replied the guide thoughtfully.
"Do you hate it?" questioned the Overland Rider.
"I love it," murmured Hi Lang after a brief silence. "Little
woman, I love the white sands, the burning heat of the day, the
deadly, sweet silence of the night when all the stars come down so
close you can almost reach out and touch them. I love the dead
odor, and then--"
"Yes?" urged Grace.
"I hate it, I fight it--and I win," added the guide in a tone that
was almost triumphant. "Yet, I'd rather be out there where the
starving coyotes howl the night through, where the great, gaunt
gray wolves loom up in the night seeking what they may kill and
eat, or where a step in the dark may be your last should you tread
on a desert rattler. I'd rather be there and face all of that, and
the peril of dying from thirst, than be anywhere else in the
world," he concluded, and then lapsed into silence.
"I understand, Mr. Lang. It is the lure of the desert that appeals
to you, though none knows better than you the perils that lurk
there for the unwary traveler. I hope and believe that I may feel
as you do about it."
"You will, and so will Miss Briggs. I am not so certain about the
others."
"When you get to know us better, Mr. Lang, you will find that,
though some of us complain and fret, all are true blue."
"Humph! Beckon I know something about that myself. What I saw to-
day shows me that I don't have to worry about you and Miss Briggs.
Did you know that Ike Fairweather wrote me a long letter about you
folks!"
Grace looked her interest.
"Yes. Ike said I'd have my hands full, and that you folks would
trot a pace that would make my legs weary trying to keep up with
you. Said you weren't afraid of anything that walked, crept or
crawled."
Grace laughed merrily.
"Mr. Fairweather is mistaken. I am terribly shy of snakes and--
and--well, I don't know what else" she added lamely.
Hi Lang chuckled under his breath.
"Yes, that's our camp where you see the smoke. I just caught a
glimpse of Ping. I reckon when we get closer we'll hear his
voice."
"We are almost there, girls," Grace called back to her companions.
"That is Ping's smoke you see yonder."
"Is Ping on fire?" answered Emma so innocently that the
Overlanders shouted with laughter, and Hi indulged in the hearty,
soundless laugh that they had already discovered was
characteristic of him.
A few moments later a cooling breeze from the range was wafted
down to them, heavy with, odors of mountain and foliage and
suggestive of cooling mountain water as well.
"What's that screeching?" demanded Hippy Wingate, as they fell
into single file and began climbing a narrow mountain trail.
"Screeching?" answered Anne Nesbit. "Why, that's our Celestial
being singing a lullaby to the coyotes lurking in their dens."
As they drew nearer those in advance could make out some of the
words of the song. The guide pointed to a rock, behind which Ping
was cooking supper, and held up a hand to indicate that the party
was to stop and listen.
"What on earth, is he saying?" wondered Nora Wingate.
"I should call it a heathen version of 'Little Jack Horner,'"
suggested Miss Briggs.
Hi nodded.
"Listen!" urged Grace. "I want to hear it. Perhaps he will sing it
again."
The guide said that when Ping got started on a song he ordinarily
kept it up for some time unless interrupted.
"Sh--h--h!" warned Grace as Emma began to laugh. "He is singing
again."
Ping, in a high falsetto voice that was almost a screech, sang:
"Littee Jack Horner Makee sit inside corner, Chow-chow he Clismas
pie; He put inside t'um, Hab catchee one plum, Hai yah! what one
good chilo (child) my!"
The Overland girls, unable longer to contain their laughter, burst
into a shout of merriment. The song ceased instantly, and a moment
later Ping appeared at the top of the rock, clad in a white linen
suit, the blouse, with its wide-flowing sleeves, being cut in
native Chinese fashion The queue, which Ping had declined to part
was tucked into a side pocket, being all braided up and shiny,
like a snake.
The Chinaman, in greeting, bowed and scraped and smiled and shook
hands with himself cordially.
"Hulloa, Ping Pong! Is supper ready?" called Hippy jovially.
"Him come along, top-side piecee Heaven pidgin man," answered the
Chinaman without an instant's hesitation, which, being freely
translated, meant, "Supper is ready, high Heaven-born man." The
retort brought a peal of laughter from the girls and a flush to
the face of Hippy.
"All right, old top. You win," was the way Hippy confessed his
defeat.
It was a happy, laughing group that rode around the rock and into
the camp where odors of cooking food, and the smiling face of Ping
Wing, met them. Horses were quickly unsaddled and tethered, then
the guide introduced his charges. Ping shook hands with himself at
each introduction, and smiled and bowed with a profound grace that
would have done credit at a king's reception.
"You belongee plenty smart inside," was his greeting to Grace
Harlowe, which she interpreted correctly, Ping having meant to
convey that, in his opinion, she was an intelligent woman.
"Thank you. Is mess ready?"
"Les. You belongee one time Flance!" he questioned, touching the
sleeve of her Red Cross uniform.
"Yes, we all were in France. I drove an ambulance there; Mr.
Wingate was an aviator, and the other young ladies worked in
hospitals and canteens. How do you know about France?"
"Me cook-man in Melican army. No likee war. Belongee too muchee
number one blam, blam!"
"You mean the shooting? You mean you did not like to have the big
German shells come over?" smiled the Overland girl.
"No likee."
Hippy's appetite was getting the better him and at this juncture
he voiced his desire for food.
"Come, come, Ping. We are hungry. Rustle some grub for us, for we
may wish to on our way," urged Hi Lang.
Ping, thus reminded of his duty, hurriedly gathered the mess kits
of the party and soon produced a really fine supper, which the
Overlanders ate sitting on the ground.
"Are you people pretty tired?" questioned Grace.
A chorus of yeses answered her. Elfreda Briggs said she was so
lame that she would be glad never to look at a saddle again, and
Emma Dean declared that her body felt as if it had been
sandpapered.
"I have been thinking that perhaps we had better make camp right
here and go on to the desert some time to-morrow. Will that
interfere with your plans Mr. Lang?" asked Grace.
The guide said it would not, and the girls of the party eagerly
urged that they be permitted to stay where they were and have a
good night's rest, so it was decided to pitch their little tents
on the spot and lay up for the night.
"Ping tells me that a man visited this camp late in the afternoon
and asked a great many questions," Hi Lang then informed them.
"The caller, according to Ping, showed a heap of interest in what
we were here for, where we were going and what we proposed to do,
and said that the best thing for you ladies to do would be to turn
about and go back to Elk Run. Do you know of any one who might be
interested in heading off your journey over the desert, Mrs.
Gray?" he asked, bending a searching look on Grace.
"I do not, Mr. Lang. If I did it would make no difference in our
plans. Ping may be mistaken about the man's motive."
The guide shook his head.
"Ping Wing is not easily deceived. He the caller was a 'number one
blad man,' only he expressed it with some further words to
emphasize his point. There's something about this business that I
don't like. I'll keep my eyes peeled."
"Don't worry, Hi," soothed Hippy. "This outfit can take care of
any bad characters that get in its way. I--"
"Merciful Heaven! What's that!" cried Emma Dean.
"Ping is in trouble!" cried Elfreda.
A shrill screeching, accompanied by the clatter of tinware, a
struggle, then two quick shots brought the Overlanders to their
feet. There was a quick rush toward the scene of the disturbance,
the guide, Grace and Hippy in the lead as they ran stumbling over
the rough ground in the darkness.