Grace Harlowe's Overland Riders on the Great American Desert Part 23

"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 la.s.so 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 la.s.so 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 la.s.so 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 pa.s.sed.

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, a.s.suming a listening att.i.tude, 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.