Grace Harlowe's Overland Riders on the Great American Desert Part 28

"As I told you, there is no water in the tank, but the sand is still moist, showing that there was water there a short time since."

"Some one must have been rather dry," observed Hippy, but no one laughed at his humor.

"There probably was not much water left there after the party before us finished helping themselves, but there would have been sufficient for us if they had left the tank alone. They tampered with it, folks!"

"How do you mean, Hi?" questioned Lieutenant Wingate.

"By digging in and poking about in the tank they have managed to start the water seeping deeper into the ground until it finally found a new course and disappeared. It's an old Indian trick they've worked on us."

"Is it possible that men can be so desperate?" wondered Anne Nesbit.

"Men!" exploded the guide. "They're not men. They're low-down hounds!"

"Why should they wish to do these things to us?" demanded Nora, flus.h.i.+ng with resentment.

"There were three men in the party this time, one being the same fellow that has followed us most of the way out here. I don't know who the others are. It isn't so much the water that's bothering me as it is that they don't come out and face us if they have a grudge to settle with us. I'm ready to meet them and I reckon you folks are too."

"I think it would be a relief to have them do so," agreed Elfreda Briggs. "This constant tormenting gets on one's nerves after a time."

"What is your plan? I know you have one, Mr. Lang," spoke up Grace.

"The clouds are making up in the south, and in a couple of hours they will hide the moon. It isn't advisable to do anything until the night gets good and dark, so I suggest that you folks lie down and get some rest, for we have a long, hard ride ahead of us."

"To-night? Ride to-night?" questioned Emma.

"Yes. Ride and ride hard. Even the lazy burros have got to get a move on. We must ride all night to-night, and when day dawns we must be in or near Forty-Mile Canyon. Then let those pirates find us if they can. They will find us sooner or later, in all probability, but by that time we shall be doing some stalking on our own account. You see, they will be expecting to find us here in the morning, but we shall be far on our journey by then," said the guide.

"What! Ride all night?" demanded Emma. "I'll die! I surely will."

"And probably all day to-morrow," nodded the guide. "I will start the Chinaman on his way the moment the sky becomes overcast, and we will follow an hour or so later. You folks will have that much longer to sleep. Good-night, folks." Hi got up abruptly and walked away to give his orders to Ping Wing.

"This is where we link arms with trouble," observed Miss Briggs, with a shake of the head.

"Stick by me. I have a rope and I know how to throw it, J. Elfreda dear," replied Grace Harlowe laughingly.

CHAPTER XIX

THE WARNING

"Turn out!" It was Hi Lang's voice that summoned the girls from their tents, and a far from welcome summons it was, for they were sleeping soundly.

"Lieutenant, the ponies are saddled and ready," said the guide, halting at Hippy's tent. "Please give the Riders the tent equipment to carry and a.s.sist them to lash the stuff on.

Everything else has gone forward."

"All right, old ma-an. Can't give me five minutes for a cat-nap, can you?" begged Hippy.

"Turn out!" Hippy yawned and got up. The night was now pitch dark, and Lieutenant Wingate fell over tent stakes and ropes and whatever else was handy for him to catch his toes on, as he staggered about aimlessly.

Bethinking himself of the guide's orders, Hippy suddenly began pulling up the stakes from the girls' tent and let it down on their heads. Emma Dean cried out, which brought a stern command for silence from Mr. Lang. Following that, there was not a sound in the camp during the next fifteen minutes.

"Packs lashed to ponies behind saddles," announced Hippy. "Party ready to move."

"Mount and follow me. No loud talking, please; light no matches.

You understand why I am so strict?" said the guide in an apologetic tone.

"We understand fully, Mr. Lang," replied Grace in a low voice.

"Start!" he commanded.

The start was made at a jog-trot, which, after a few minutes, was changed to a gallop. This pace was continued for some time, but finally the guide slowed down and began peering into the darkness, looking for Ping and his burros. Elfreda marveled at the almost uncanny instinct of their guide, and how Ping could lay a course that could be followed in the dark was a mystery to her. She asked Hi Lang how it was done.

"See that red star over on the horizon, Miss Briggs? Ping is instructed to keep that star between the ears of his burro and not to wobble. By keeping the same star between the ears of my bronco I am bound to overhaul Ping, provided he has held to his course. I am, however, allowing for some deviation and keeping a close lookout."

It was not more than ten minutes after that when Mr. Lang discovered the Chinaman and his burden bearers plodding along less than a hundred yards to the right of the course that the Overland Riders were following. Ping, though he had heard the party coming up, held to his course until directed to fall in behind them.

"A mariner following a compa.s.s course could do no better than that," declared Grace Harlowe.

"It really is marvelous, though Mr. Lang doesn't think so,"

replied Elfreda.

From that point on the journey was slow and wearisome. No one complained, however, and the ponies with their riders moved through the night like specters of the desert.

The first leaden streaks in the sky in the east next morning found the Overland Riders still a long distance from their objective, the clouds not having darkened the moon as early in the evening as Hi Lang had hoped they might do, thus delaying the start.

"I see nothing to interest us," announced Grace after a survey of the desert with her gla.s.ses.

"Neither do I. Reckon that spy will be surprised when he makes his morning call and finds us gone," chuckled the guide. "Yonder are the mountains where we turn in," he added, pointing.

"I thought that was a cloud on the horizon," said Miss Briggs.

"How far is it from here?"

"About five miles. We'll be there in two hours. Mrs. Gray, will you use your gla.s.ses occasionally as we go ahead? Stop now and then and take your time in making observations. You can catch up with us without straining the pony, I reckon," grinned the guide.

"Don't we stop for breakfast soon?" begged Emma.

"Tighten your belt," answered the guide. "It may be some hours before we can settle down for rest and food."

Emma groaned dismally, and Hippy looked serious. Missing a meal meant taking a good part of the joy of living from his day.

Sweltering heat followed the rising of the sun, and, as it lighted up the desert with its glare, Grace stopped and began her survey of the horizon as requested by the guide. She sat her pony until she had carefully examined it all the way around.

"All clear, so far as I can see, Mr. Lang," she said, riding up to him.

Hi nodded, but made no comment, for he could read the desert better than could Grace Harlowe with her powerful binoculars.