FACING A NEW PERIL
"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.