Grace Harlowe's Overland Riders on the Great American Desert Part 17

"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.

CHAPTER XII

A BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT

A wan and considerably mussed up party of girls met Grace and the guide when the two rode into what was left of their camp.

"Well, here we are at last," cried Grace cheerily.

"We thought you were lost. How could you have missed such an opportunity?" wondered Miss Briggs.

"I did not miss it, Elfreda dear. I got beautifully lost and didn't know it. Most persons when they get lost are very much alive to the fact, but I traveled on in blissful ignorance of the fact that I was headed straight for Death Valley."

"I wish you wouldn't talk about it. Death Valley reminds me of the experience we had last night," complained Emma.

"Oh, then you have been to Death Valley?" questioned Anne.

"No, I said--I mean I said--I mean I meant to have said that---"

"Let it go at that. You will get tongue-tied if you keep on,"

warned Hippy Wingate. "We have something more serious on hand than to listen to your--"

"Yes, girls," interrupted Grace. "Mr. Lang tells me that we MUST move on immediately, that we MUST find water, and that, too, without delay. What shape are we in with regard to equipment?"

"We have our tents," answered Elfreda.

"Some cooking utensils, and our food, which Ping had the foresight to take to bed with him," said Anne Nesbit whimsically.

"Were the rifles saved?"

"All secure, and the ammunition too," replied Lieutenant Wingate.

"I believe that a few blankets were blown away and lost, together with numerous odds and ends that weren't nailed down. What could you expect with a wind strong enough to blow our horses far out on the desert. Got any water?"

"I have some. Do you mean to tell me, Hippy Wingate, that an old campaigner like yourself has drunk up all the water he had in his canteen, and in the face of a great drouth?" demanded Grace, trying hard not to smile.

"Every last drop of it," admitted Hippy. "But what's a fellow to do when he is thirsty and his throat is cracking open?"

"Use the precious stuff sparingly. Here! Take a sip from my canteen. Only a sip, Lieutenant."

With the eyes of the entire party on him, Hippy dared not take more than enough water to moisten his throat. Grace then took the canteen from him, pa.s.sing it to Emma.

"The same holds good for you, Emma," she said, "Take a sip and pa.s.s it along. What water is there may have to be our only supply all the rest of the afternoon."

"That's right, Mrs. Gray," spoke up Hi Lang. "Ping!"