The Pony Rider Boys in the Alkali Part 3

"Looks to me more like a landscape of German measles," averred Stacy, as they moved along through scattering sage brush and open sandy stretches.

Now that they had reached the plain itself, they discovered that it was not one level stretch of land. Instead, the country was rolling; here and there were wide reaches of whitish desert sands and alkali sinks.

The atmosphere was like an oven. Not a breath of air was stirring.

Already the lads were mopping their brows and fanning their faces with their sombreros, while spots of dark s.h.i.+ning moisture on the ponies'

sides bore evidence that they, too, felt the baking heat.

"I say, fellows, let's find some shade," called Stacy.

"All right, go ahead and we'll follow," laughed Tad.

"I'll ride up to the top of that knoll and make an observation."

Tom Parry smiled appreciatively as the lad galloped up the sharp rise of ground, where Chunky sat on his pony, shading his eyes as he gazed off over the cheerless desert.

"Well, how about that shade?" shouted Ned.

Stacy turned disconsolately and rode back to his companions.

"There isn't any," he said.

"Of course not," laughed Ned.

"But I know how to make some," added the fat boy.

Slipping from his pony he cut some sage brush, which he fas.h.i.+oned about his head in the shape of a hood, so that it gave his perspiring face some protection from the intense glare of the sun.

"Now, all you need is a strip of mosquito netting," suggested Walter.

"And a little red rocking chair," added Ned.

"With a dish of ice cream," laughed Tad.

"I guess you will have to be satisfied with a cup of alkali water,"

interjected the Professor, dryly.

"You will find the air much cooler, shortly," the guide advised them.

"The sun is going down now and I think we had better make camp, if the Professor has no objections."

"Not in the least. In fact, I am quite ready to call it a day's work."

"Where do we camp, Mr. Parry?" asked Tad.

"Right here. It is as good a place as any that we shall find. There is little choice out here."

They were now in a broad valley, the rolling hills covered with a spa.r.s.e growth of sage brush rising gradually on each side.

The boys threw themselves from their ponies gladly, stripping the saddles from the animals' backs.

"Better stake the animals down, for the first two or three nights, so they won't take French leave," advised the guide.

"How about the burros?" asked Tad.

"Let them roam. They'll stay as long as the ponies are here. The pack animals will fill up on sage, after which they will come back to camp to sleep."

All hands began to unpack. The tents were pitched in record time, cots unfolded and preparations for the night made with a skill that comes from long practice in the open.

"What are we to do for a camp-fire?" asked Walter. "There is not a single stick of wood about here."

"Burn the sage," answered the guide.

"That stuff won't burn," retorted Ned.

"Try it."

They did. In an incredibly short time a hot fire was blazing up, on which they piled armfuls of the stunted desert growth.

"Now, get your food ready and I will cook it," said Parry, as the flames began to die down.

When the fire had settled to a bed of hot ashes Tom thrust the bacon directly into the ashes, placing the coffee pot near the center, around and on top of which he heaped the ashes. It was a new method of preparing a meal, and the lads watched the process with keen interest.

"I shouldn't think that bacon would be fit to eat. However, I presume you know what you are doing," said the Professor.

"It's the only way, sir," replied Parry. "We have to work with the implements that nature has provided."

"Nature must have been in a stingy mood when she made this country,"

laughed Ned.

"I don't agree with you," said Tad. "It is the most beautiful and interesting scene that I have ever looked upon."

Parry nodded approvingly.

"And as fickle as it is beautiful," added the guide. "The supper will be ready by the time you have the table set, boys."

In spite of the heat the lads realized all at once that their appet.i.tes had not suffered. Bacon, jelly and biscuits, which had been warmed over the ashes, seemed to them to have reached the proportions of a banquet.

Stacy helped himself to a large slice of bacon which he proceeded to munch. No sooner had he begun, however, than he made a wry face.

"What's the matter. Isn't the bacon all right?" asked the guide.

"Awful! Somebody's trying to poison me," Chunky shouted, red in the face.

"Must have a brown taste in your mouth,' laughed Ned.

"What's the trouble----" began the Professor. "Good gracious, there is something the matter with the stuff. Ugh! Never tasted such bitter stuff. Did you purchase this meat in a reliable place, Mr. Parry!"

The guide smiled good-naturedly.

"The bacon is all right, sir. It's the sage brush taint that you get."