THE GUIDE READS A DESERT TRAIL
"Did you shoot?" called the guide, pulling his pony down sharply.
Both pony and rider were gray from the desert dust, and the
guide's face was lined with perspiration streaks. It was plain
that he had ridden hard and long.
"Yes. Did you find water?" cried Emma.
"I did, twenty miles or nigh that, from here. What's that?" he
demanded, pointing to the water hole.
"We have water, Mr. Lang," Grace told him, "Mr. Wingate fell
through a crust and discovered a tank. There is water in plenty.
We are so sorry that you had all that journey for nothing. Ping!
Water for Mr. Lang and a bucketful for his pony. How long since
did you hear our signal shots?"
"More'n an hour ago. I wasn't certain, but I thought I heard three
shots. My journey was not for nothing, for I have found a tank and
there we will make our next camping place." The guide paused to
lift the bucket that Ping had fetched, and to drink deeply from
it.
"Who's been here?"
"What makes you think anyone has?" teased Emma.
"Plain as daylight. I followed a pony's trail in for more than two
miles. There's the tracks where he went away," answered the guide
quickly.
"You surely have sharp eyes," nodded Elfreda.
"He was one of those sphinxes, like some other deserts have. This
one was not stuck fast to the ground like a regular sphinx, but
his tongue must have been stuck to the roof of his mouth, for he
couldn't say any more words than a ten-month-old baby," declared
Hippy Wingate.
"Tell me about him," urged Hi, turning to Grace.
The guide nodded understandingly after Grace had told him in
detail of the arrival of the stranger, choking for a drink, and
half famished from hunger.
"That's like him."
"Like whom?" questioned Hippy.
"Like the desert traveler. He is just one of those brainless
fellows like myself, who would rather be out here, suffering,
choking, dying by inches, than be at home surrounded by all the
comforts that a home gives a man. Didn't say what his name is, did
he?"
"No, sir. Let me see," reflected Grace. "He said, 'Water!' Then,
later, after asking where we were going, and being informed that
we expected to visit the Specter Range and perhaps the Shoshones,
he replied, 'Bad gang there. Drove me out. Will drive you out.' As
he left he said, 'Thankee, folks.' To the best of my recollection
he opened his mouth at no other time, except to eat and drink."
"Hm--m--m--m," mused the guide. "In the Specters, eh?"
"I don't know whether he referred to them or to the Shoshones,"
answered Grace.
"Didn't say where he was going?"
"No, sir. Can you tell us, Mr. Lang, why it is that desert lovers
like yourself, and like the stranger who was here, as a more
extreme case are so silent, so taciturn and ever listening for
something? What is it they are listening for?"
"I reckon they take after nature herself out here. When a man is
alone on this big desert he feels very small, and speaking out or
raising a fellow's voice seems as much of a sacrilege as speaking
out loud in church when the preacher's praying. As for listening,
I don't know, but maybe we listen for the sounds that we are so
used to hearing at home, the rustle of leaves, the song of a bird,
but all we ever hear out here in the daytime is now and then the
buzz of a rattler's tail. We don't always shoot 'em because we
sort of hate to make so much noise. I reckon that isn't much of an
explanation, but---"
"I call it very fine," nodded Elfreda. "By the way, Mr. Lang, we
had another caller, a distant caller to-day. He didn't come near
the camp, but sat his pony for several hours apparently observing
us. Perhaps he was resting."
Hi Lang's face showed his interest. He asked questions and frowned
thoughtfully, requesting that they point out as closely as
possible the spot at which the man had been seen.
"You say he disappeared suddenly?"
"Yes, Mr. Lang," answered Grace.
"Was that when I was coming up?"
"You were."
"He evidently saw me and ducked. There's a high ridge of sand over
there where you saw him. He was on that ridge or you wouldn't have
seen him, and when he discovered me he just naturally slid his
pony down the other side and walked away under cover of the ridge
or else got down and peeked over the top of it. I don't like that.
You weren't thinking of going on to-night, were you?"
"Not unless you think best, Mr. Lang," replied Grace.
"Then I reckon I'll ride over there in the morning and see what
his tracks look like. To-morrow night we'll make camp by the water
hole I found to-day, unless some other party comes along and dips
the water all out or it disappears between now and then."
"Did you answer our signal shots that you say you thought you
heard?" asked Hippy.
"Of course I did, though I didn't think you would hear them, being
as there was a gentle breeze from this direction against me. I
staked the ponies down before I went away this morning, and that
black bronco of yours gave me some trouble, Mrs. Gray. I had to
lasso him. When are you going to learn to throw the rope?"
"When are you going to teach me?" returned Grace smilingly.
"That's the talk. We'll begin right now. Get your rope."
Grace was instructed first how to coil the rope, how to make the
loop and to properly grasp it by its hondo, or knot, before
throwing; then the real lesson began.
It was sorry work for her at first, but by the time Ping uttered
his shrill call for supper, Grace had learned to throw the rope
and let the loop drop to the ground without destroying the form of
the loop. Hi announced that, on the morrow, she should be able to
hit a mark on the ground but that considerable practice would be
necessary before she would be able to rope an object that was in
motion.
Supper was followed by an interesting evening, during which Hi
Lang told the Overland girls more of the desert secrets.
"We are now in the skunk country," he said, as they were about to
turn in.
"The what?" demanded Emma Dean.
"I do not mean the sort you probably are familiar with in the
east. The desert skunk is an entirely different animal. He bites,
and his bite is supposed to produce hydrophobia, which means death
out here. He is, therefore, known as the hydrophobia skunk. Go
into any desert camp just before turning-in time and you will hear
the desert wanderers speaking of rattlesnakes and skunks. Every
man who knows those two pests is actually afraid of them."
"This is a fine time of day to tell us," complained Nora.
"That's what I say," wailed Emma. "Why didn't you tell us after
breakfast instead of after supper?"
"Yes. I know I shall dream of snakes and skunks and other
creeping, crawling things to-night," added Anne.
Hi laughed silently, masking his mouth with a hand.
"String a rope all the way around your tent on the ground. No
snake will go over that, especially a horsehair rope. Your lasso
is the thing for that, Mrs. Gray. I will have Ping keep the fire
going and that will keep the skunks away. The insects and other
creeping things we can't stop, so we shall have to take our
chances with them. Sorry, but it was necessary to tell you. If you
are going to be desert travelers you must learn the desert."
"You are perfectly right, Mr. Lang," nodded Grace. "I am very glad
you have told us so much to-night, especially about skunks and
snakes. I will lay my lasso around the tent and sleep in perfect
security. Girls, let's turn in."
Emma dreamed of snakes that night and had nightmare, crying out in
her sleep and getting a violent shaking from Elfreda Briggs as her
reward. Otherwise, the night was peacefully passed.
Early on the following morning, before any of the outfit was
awake, except Ping, who seemed never to sleep, Hi Lang had caught
up his pony and ridden out on the desert and on to the spot at
which the girls had seen the mysterious horseman the day before.
Hi readily found the hoof-prints of the pony ridden by the man,
and examined them with keen interest. He observed other features
of the trail that might easily have escaped even a desert
wanderer's observation, and that told him much.
"I reckon there's going to be some lively doings before we've got
to the end of this journey," muttered the guide, assuming a
listening attitude, with head tilted to one side, eyes fixed on
the blue sky overhead. He stood motionless in that position for
many minutes. Finally arousing himself from his reverie, Hi
mounted his pony and galloped away towards the camp, reaching
there some time before the Riders were awake. Grace Harlowe
appeared about an hour later, and walked out over the desert a
short distance, inhaling the sweet morning air in long, delicious
breaths.
"What is it that smells so sweet?" she called to the guide, who
was busying himself about the camp, for there was a new and
strangely sweet fragrance in the air.
"That's another of the desert mysteries. Supposed to have been
rain somewhere. It's like a breath straight from heaven. I love
it!" Hi straightened up, and, throwing back his shoulders, inhaled
deeply.
Grace was thoughtful as she returned to camp, but it was not of
the desert she was thinking. Rather was it of the man who was
guiding them. He was a poet by nature, but did not know it. He was
intelligent and he possessed a mind and a power of reasoning far
beyond what one might look for in a man of his calling.
"Was the morning perfume what induced you to take such an early
ride, Mr. Lang?" asked Grace sweetly.
The guide gave her a quick glance.
"What makes you think I took a gallop this morning, Mrs. Gray?"
"In the first place your pony is not tethered where he was last
night, and, secondly, your trail, going and returning, is plain
out there," she said, with a gesture towards the desert.
"You're sharp," observed Hi briefly, and proceeded with his work
without offering further information. Grace believed, however,
that he had ridden out to look at the trail left by the solitary
horseman who had been watching their camp, but asked no further
questions. Hi would speak when ready to do so; that she knew.
The Overlanders moved at an early hour and made camp that night at
the water hole found by the guide the day before. Several pairs of
keen eyes frequently swept the horizon during the day, and again
on the following morning, for the mysterious horseman, but it was
three days later before he was again seen in the distance.
"What's the matter with my taking a shot at him?" demanded
Lieutenant Wingate.
"No!" answered the guide with emphasis. "Give the calf enough rope
and he'll hang himself. Saddle up and we'll ride that way and have
a look at the trail again."
The watcher disappeared as the Overlanders were saddling their
ponies. As before, the guide made no comment after he had examined
the hoof-prints left by the observer's pony, and the journey was
resumed.
The days drew on, and the Overlanders, now more used to the
hardships and heat of traveling on the desert, began to take a
real pleasure in the work, to enjoy the free life and the
excitement that came to them in one form or another nearly every
day. Now and then a day would pass without water, but they made
the best of it, having confidence that Hi Lang would find it in
time, no matter how dark the outlook. The mysterious horseman had
appeared several times, always too far away to enable them to get
a good look at him. Occasionally Hi would go out for a look at the
pony's trail, but it was not until they were nearing the mountain
ranges, after three weeks of journeying across the hot sands, that
the guide gave a direct answer to a direct question as to whether
or not he knew what the mysterious one was up to. Hippy had asked
the question when they were at supper one evening.
"I don't know what he's up to, of course," replied Hi Lang. "I do
know that he is the same fellow who left the range after we folks
were shot at there, for the hoof-prints of his pony are the same.
He is watching us, and we'll hear from him later," he declared
impressively.