CHAPTER VI.—A LIVELY SCRIMMAGE.
Even as he dropped flat, and felt that lithe body pass swiftly over him, Adrian heard a shout. Of course this must mean his chums had made the alarming discovery that he was up against a hard proposition; they had been watching him closely from a distance, and when the deer fell in response to his shot doubtless they were about to give a whoop of delight, but at sight of the leaping panther this was changed into a cry of alarm.
Adrian did not deceive himself.
The fact that he had a couple of good, trustworthy friends so close at hand would not cut much of a figure in his little affair with the hungry panther, perhaps nothing at all.
They were some distance away, and even though making all the haste possible, they must consume several minutes of precious time in reaching him; before that came about his business with the gray-coated terror of the canyons of the mountains would have been finished.
Accustomed to depending on himself in every emergency, the boy was not at a loss as to what he should do under these trying circumstances.
It was lucky, of course, that in making an involuntary duck of his body he had caused the panther to miss his aim. The creature had leaped true enough, but having once left the limb on which he must have been crouched, watching the advance of the human deer-hunter, he could not alter the nature of his spring.
But just as soon as he landed on the ground the chances were the agile beast was going to whirl around, and make another try. It was to meet this attack that Adrian got himself in readiness, thrusting out his rifle so as to ward off the savage claws until such time as he could throw out the old shell, and pump another one into the firing chamber of his gun.
It is true that this operation may be mechanically performed, and that it really consumes a brief space of time; but there may be occasions when even a second counts for a great deal. Adrian considered this such a time, for it was of more importance that he face about and make ready to keep the animal away, than that in the desperate attempt to get his rifle ready he allow his side to go unprotected.
An old hunter would understand the instinct that caused the prairie boy to act in this way; for he could place himself in a similar situation, and realize just what a part instinct rather than reason would be apt to play.
It turned out to be a wise move, too; for hardly had he thus whirled around with gun extended, than the panther, having recovered from his disappointing leap, came straight at him again.
It was far from a pleasant task that the boy had on his hands, trying to thrust that clawing, growling beast away with his gun, all the while he was fairly wild to work its mechanism, and get a good cartridge into the chamber.
You may not suspect what a powerful beast a panther is, just by watching him pace restlessly back and forth in his cage when you visit the Zoo, or see him in a menagerie; but those hardened muscles of his are capable of a tremendous force, once the beast is aroused to a state of fury. Many an unfortunate hunter has rued the day or night when he found such a beast attacking him in the forest; and if he lived through the battle it was to find his garments torn almost to ribbons, while his flesh was badly lacerated by the keen-pointed claws that were in action every second of the time until a fortunate shot or blow from a knife laid the animal out dead.
While he continued to thrust out with all his strength, in the endeavor to keep the beast away from close quarters, Adrian was yelling at the top of his lungs, not for help, but in the hope that the sound of a human voice might gradually wear upon the nerves of the beast, and cause him to slink away.
All the boy wanted was just a few winks of an eye, in order to get that rifle in readiness for action; but as long as he was compelled to use every atom of his strength in fending off these constant attacks, his ambition did not seem likely to be gratified.
After all, the coming of Donald and Billie, also shouting like wild Indians as they skipped over rocks, and rushed headlong toward the scene of action, may have been a factor in deciding the result.
Adrian himself, calmly reviewing the whole affair later on, when he could do so in a spirit of fairness, was ready to acknowledge that he was indebted to them for the chance he yearned to grasp.
Hearing them coming may have slightly disconcerted the panther. It had not been wounded thus far, so that its rage was only that of being interfered with while stalking its legitimate prey, the feeding deer. Consequently it might not be of a mind to face several enemies at once; though a tiger-cat that has been made to feel the agony of a gunshot wound will leap into a regiment at times, and start to make a clean sweep, until borne down by force of numbers.
The animal hesitated at one point in its attack. Adrian was quick to notice this little but significant fact; pressing his advantage he gave a particularly loud whoop, and instead of standing on the defensive as heretofore, he actually assumed the aggressive.
That proved to be the crux of the whole exciting little affair, for the panther was surprised at the turn of events, and gave evidences of a desire to retreat.
By now the boy’s fighting spirit had been wholly aroused, and he was determined that under no circumstances, if he could help it, should that impudent panther get away unscathed. It had attacked him unprovoked; and now he meant to see that the fighting cat got full measure, pressed down, and running over.
Watching his chance Adrian suddenly jumped back, and at the same instant there was heard the click of his gun’s mechanism working.
It was all done like a flash, and he had timed his movement with such precision as well as sagacity that before the beast could recover, and either resume the attack or jump away, the young hunter was ready to put the finishing stroke to his warmly contested game.
The other pair, having covered about half the ground by this time, and still coming on wildly, saw their chum once more thrust out his gun; but this time it was with a far different manner than before. There was also a confidence in his action that told the experienced Donald what sort of change had come about during that second or so of time.
Had he been given time to shout no doubt Donald would have voiced his belief to the effect that Adrian had succeeded in rendering his magic fire-stick serviceable again, by those few quick movements of his hands.
Of course it was as good as over now. At such close quarters Adrian, being so accustomed to firearms, was not apt to miss a vital spot. And when the discharge was heard the panther sprang into the air, rolled over on the ground, clawing desperately, while Adrian stood close by, though out of reach, his faithful weapon again in readiness to be used in case of necessity.
But it was not required of him, for by the time Donald and Billie came panting to the spot, the fat boy blowing like a porpoise with his strenuous exertions, the gray-coated beast had stiffened out in death.
“Hurt any, Ad?” gasped Donald, as he surveyed his chum anxiously; because he knew only too well how difficult such wounds as those given by the claws of a carniverous animal are to heal, and what danger of blood poisoning always hangs over the one who has received the same.
Adrian laughed as well as he was able in his nearly exhausted condition.
“Not a scratch—never touched me!” he managed to tell them; at which both the others took off their hats, and gave a faint cheer.
When they had managed to in part recover their wind they bent over to examine the cat, which both prairie lads declared to be the largest they had ever seen.
“The nerve of the rascal, jumping at you just because you knocked over a deer he had his eye on,” remarked Billie, as he poked his toe into the sleek skin of the slain beast.
“Well,” said Donald, laughingly, “just put yourself in his place, Billie, and think how ugly you’d feel if you had your mouth made up for a certain sort of meal, and just when you were going to reach out to grab it, some fellow stepped in and scooped the prize. Chances are you’d feel like tackling him, and trying to take it away, now wouldn’t you, honest Injun?”
The fat boy screwed up his red, good-natured face as though pondering over the subject; then he nodded his head like one of these automatic dolls you see in the shop windows along about Christmas time.
“P’raps I might, Donald; mebbe you’re right about that,” he went on to say presently; “because it sure is a mighty aggravating thing to have your mouth made up for a mess of fried onions, and then not get ’em; and it must be worse to be cheated out of everything at the same time. Yes, I don’t blame the scamp so much after all; but say, he sure barked up the wrong tree when he thought to scare one of the Broncho Rider Boys off, didn’t he, fellows?”
“Looks that way,” Donald replied.
“But we got the deer all right, and that means a feast of venison right along now, the balance of our trip to the Zuni village, don’t it?” continued Billie, his blue eyes fairly snapping with delight; for while they had had an abundance to eat thus far, fresh meat had been only noticeable, as Billie would say, by its absence.
“Yes,” Adrian went on to remark, “we’ll have plenty of venison; and I’ll get busy cutting the animal up, if you boys will look after the horses; and Donald you might slip that fine gray jacket off my panther; I reckon it’ll be worth keeping as a sort of reminder of the sassy way he tackled me.”
“I’ll take care of the horses, all right,” ventured Billie, who knew very little about removing the skin of a dead animal, and moreover was not anxious to take lessons in that line.
So it came about that for some little while all of them were more or less busy, Adrian in cutting off the choice portions of the deer; Donald in depriving the unfortunate panther of the sleek covering he had borne all his life; while Billie led the horses, and after them the mule, to water, which he found trickling down the face of the rocks near by.
“And,” said the fat boy, after he had completed his part of the programme, “seein’ how close to noon it is right now, why not stop long enough to let me make a little cooking fire out of these dead branches under the cedar, and try a piece of the venison?” and silence giving consent, he proceeded to immediately get busy.
CHAPTER VII.—THE WITCH DOCTOR.
“Well, it’s a little tough, but all the same I like it,” was Billie’s opinion of the venison, after it had been cooked, and they sat around making a meal of it.
“You couldn’t expect anything less,” Donald went on to say; “because all meat is more juicy and tender from hanging several days, when the weather allows. Before we’re done chewing on this maverick you’ll agree that I’m right, for it’ll get better with age.”
“That’s a cinch!” agreed Adrian.
As it was pretty hot around the middle of the day, none of them were very ambitious about making a fresh start, after they had finished eating. In fact, they lay around in easy positions, and waited for the sun to get started toward the west, so that its rays might not be so direct.
“Tell me some more about the Zunis, Donald,” urged Billie, thinking that it was a good time to put forward such a plea; for long ago had he not learned that a wise fellow will wait to ask a favor of his father until after dinner, and not when he first comes home, tired and hungry?
“Oh! can’t you just hold your horses a little longer, Billie?” observed the other, with a good-natured smile. “Because, you know we’ll drop in on the copper colored gents tomorrow, with any decent sort of luck; and then you’ll be able to see everything for youself.”
“Yes, that’s so, Donald,” the fat boy went on in his wheedling, insinuating way; “but I’ve been told that whenever you expect to take a journey into any foreign country the first thing to do is to get guide books, and read up all you can about the people, their strange habits, and so-forth. In that way you can understand them much quicker than if you didn’t know beans about the lot. And so, the more I can hear about these Hopi and Zuni Indians, who all belong to the family of cliff dwellers, and are so different from every other tribe that ever inhabited North America, why, the quicker I’ll understand what a lot of queer things they do stand for.”
Adrian pretended to clap his hands as if in applause.
“Seems as if he’s got you there, Donald,” he went on to remark. “A heap of sound sense in what Billie says.”
“Oh!” remarked the fat boy, with a shrug of his broad shoulders, “I do have a bright thought once a year, you know. Of course it’s only an accident, and couldn’t be helped; but strike up, Donald, and tell me something about that old medicine man who is the queerest of the whole bunch I take it, from what I’ve read, and heard about him.”
Donald looked sharply at the speaker. He did not underestimate Billie, and knew that many times the fat boy had proven to be far from being the numbskull he pretended he was.
“Well, whatever put that notion in your head,” Donald observed, “it’s as true as anything going. Remember that I’ve only run across a batch of these cliff-dwellers once, when dad took me to see the wonderful Colorado Canyon, where heaps of their rock homes can be seen high up in the walls of the biggest hole in all the world. So that what I know about these Zunis we’re on the way to visit I’ve had only from the lips of others, generally cowboys who like to stretch things, you understand.”
“All right; we’ll make allowances for the exaggerations of Bunch, Si Ketcham, Corney, Skinny, Alkali or even the chink cook, Ah Chin Chin. Now start in, please, Donald.”
“In the first place,” began the other, thoughtfully, “the old chap who rattles the dry bones, and plays the part of medicine man to the Zunis has been known all over the country for many years as the sharpest of his kind. He’s got a genuine Indian name, of course, which I couldn’t pronounce even if I remembered it; but they tell me it stands for Witch Doctor, and that’s what we’ll have to call him, I reckon.”
“A rose by any other name would smell as sweet,” muttered Billie.
“I’m not going to try and describe the old fakir, because I never could do him justice,” Donald went on. “Having seen one like him I could picture the Witch Doctor, after both Si Ketcham at the ranch, and Corse Tibbals at the mine had painted a word picture of him. Above all things you’ve got to snap him off, if you want a jim-dandy card for your exhibit, to stun the boys at home.”
“Yes, sure I will, Donald. Ain’t I carrying ten rolls of films in my pack right now, just for that same purpose?” Billie assured him.
“What I wanted to tell you most about, though, Billie, was something that’s sort of excited my curiosity more’n a little.”
“Oh! that sounds kind of interesting to be sure, Donald; so please keep right on, and let’s hear all about it,” the other pleaded.
“It seems,” began the prairie boy, “that this old fellow has surrounded himself with a regular halo of the deepest mystery ever. All of his stripe like to make out that they’re in direct communication with the Great Spirit or Manitou of the red man, you know; and this Witch Doctor has got the rest of the bunch beat to a frazzle, as Teddy would say.”
“How so?” asked Adrian, as the narrator paused, possibly on purpose to let his strange words sink in, and arouse further curiosity on the part of his hearers.
“It’s just this way, as near as I could make out,” Donald presently continued. “Every little while the old medicine man disappears from the sight of his people, and always after conducting a series of cracker-jack ceremonies. They say he’s gone into the mountain to talk with Manitou; and from time to time queer sounds are heard that set the Indians almost wild—strains of sweet music come out of cracks in the rocks, and then a strange voice like the rumbling of thunder follows. And at such times every Zuni will be sure to flatten himself, face downward, on the ground, listening with all his might, but not daring to look, for fear he might see too much, and be struck blind; because that’s what the Witch Doctor has warned them might happen if they got too curious.”
Billie was listening with open mouth, and eyes that were round with wonder.
“Oh, my country!” he said, slowly yet with apparent exultation; “then there’s a real mystery for us to unravel, ain’t there, Donald? What d’ye suppose makes that music; and who does the shouting now?”
“Ask me something easy,” remarked the other, shaking his head as though he did not attempt to solve the problem. “That old fellow has them all locoed, is my opinion, and they believe whatever he tells them. Some people call it hypnotism; but I just reckon that they’re a lot of fanatics, and ready to sneeze when the medicine man takes snuff. But there’s another part of the thing that was a heap more interesting to Si Ketcham and Corse Tibbals.”
“What was that?” asked Adrian.
“Why, it seems that on several occasions, when the old rascal has wanted something or other that the whites possessed, and it needed the ready cash to buy it, he’s gone into his sacred teepee and come out again with a handful of crude gold. Why, being a miner, and experienced in those lines, Corse says that it looked like he’d just knocked a hunk off a ledge that must have been virgin gold!”
“Tell me that, will you?” gasped Billie. “No wonder, then, so many palefaces wander off this way to watch the Zunis carry on when the time comes along for their rattlesnake dance, and all that fuss and feathers. Say, chances are that the old chap knows of the richest deposit of precious metal ever discovered. And when he disappears inside the mountain to talk with the Great Spirit, why, that’s the time he does his chipping of gold. Gee! now you’ve got me some excited, Donald.”
“Well, you want to keep right cool, and not give the thing away,” warned the one who was telling of these strange facts. “Whether the Witch Doctor has got a hidden treasure inside that mountain or not, it’s certain that up to now nobody has found a chance to spy on him. He’s too smart for that. And besides, these Zuni Indians have so many tricks up their sleeves, what with their hundreds of pet rattlesnakes and such, that white men don’t care as a rule to make them angry. All sorts of stories have been told about dens of the reptiles into which they cast those who make enemies of them. I reckon these are only yarns, because there’s been little, or no trouble between the whites and the Hopis and Zunis; but all the same there’s something about the queer habits of these cliff-dwellers that makes miners, hungry for gold as they may be, keep their hands off. Nobody knows what a Zuni is carrying under his fancy blanket; and it may just be a rattler as well as not.”
Billie turned pale, and drew a long breath. Of course he was instantly reminded of his recent terrible experience with snakes; and this took away in some measure from the pleasure he was anticipating when he started exploring the quaint village of the Zuni Indians, with the houses chiseled out of the solid rock in tiers, and each door reached by a narrow ledge that ascended at an angle of forty-five degrees.
“I’m only telling you these things,” Donald went on to say, “because Billie has asked me to coach him about what we’re likely to run across. And perhaps, it’s just as well that all of us remember we haven’t got any business to poke our noses into the private affairs of these people. If we do it we must take the risk; and that’s what men like Corse Tibbals have always shrank back from up to now.”
“I can understand that plain enough,” remarked Adrian, soberly; “for when men get the prospecting fever well fixed on them, it’s got to be something mighty powerful that’s going to keep them from trying to squeeze a secret like this from a red, no matter whether he is a Witch Doctor or not. Yes, our motto must be, ‘go slow.’ And at the same time we might keep our eyes and ears open, so that if anything out of the ordinary run happens, when we’re in that village, we’ll be ready to take a look into the same.”
Somehow Billie asked no more questions. Apparently what he had heard must have given the fat boy food for thought. He had a pretty lively imagination, and doubtless allowed this to have full swing now; so that he was picturing all sorts of astonishing things coming to pass presently.
They were just thinking of getting the horses, engaged in nibbling such grass as could be found near by, when Billie chanced to look earnestly far up the side of the mountain which formed one wall of the valley in which the panther had been met, as well as the feeding deer.
He seemed to be instantly galvanized into action.
“Looky there, fellows!” they heard him call out, his voice trembling with sudden excitement; “up yonder where that last cedar grows. Don’t you see a man and a pony as plain as day; and he’s sure been watching us lie around down here. Why, what if it was one of them young Apache bucks we scared off the other night; and say, couldn’t he just riddle us with lead, if he took a notion to shoot right now?”
Filled with this alarming idea Billie commenced to roll over and over; while the others stared up toward the spot indicated by their comrade.
CHAPTER VIII.—THE MAN WHO VANISHED.
“There! He’s gone again!” exclaimed Adrian, almost immediately afterwards. “He must have seen you pointing at him, Billie.”
“My! but he must be a kind of sensitive fellow, if that little thing’d make him sidle out of sight!” observed the stout chum, dejectedly. “One second he was there, all right, and the next he had vamosed the ranch. Now you see him, now you don’t. It’s mighty queer, I think.”
Donald and Adrian exchanged glances.
“What do you make of it, Ad?” queried the former.
“Why, just as Billie here says, it does look queer,” replied the other, seriously. “If that had been a cowboy, or an honest miner, or even a prospector in these dangerous mountains, he might have had the decency to wave a hand at us, even if it was too much trouble for him to make his way down here to say how-d’ye.”
“Never made a single wave, just backed out of sight,” grumbled Billie. “But anyhow, you don’t reckon it could have been one of them hostile Indians, do you, boys?”
“Oh! no, not at all,” chuckled Adrian. “We’d have seen that fact right away, for they wear feathers in their hair; and besides, you can’t mistake an Apache as far as you can see him. It was a white man all right, don’t think anything else.”
“But you can’t guess who, now?” persisted Billie.
“Of course not,” declared Donald. “There’s always a chance to come across some rascal in this country, a fellow who has been run out of the mining camps, or else is wanted on the ranges for some thieving job, and has to live a hermit life. That may have been just such a man. Fact is, I reckon he was no other.”
“And he didn’t like our looks one little bit, did he?” pursued Billie. “Seemed to be too honest in our get-up to suit him, mebbe. Well, that’s some satisfaction, anyway; though it goes against the grain to have a fellow dodge at sight of you, like you had the epidemic in your clothes.”
After waiting some little time to see if the mysterious stranger would show himself again, and meeting with disappointment, the three Broncho Rider Boys determined to resume their journey.
When, however, Billie tried to put the packs on Bray he instantly met with the most strenuous objection. The mule backed away from him, snorting, and with his long ears put forward. In fact he exhibited all the evidences of terror.
“Hey! what’s the matter with you, Bray, you silly old thing? Think I’m going to take a bite out of you, mebbe? Well, you’ve got another guess coming then; because that’s the last thing I’d have in my mind. Stand still, can’t you, and let me put your pack on. Whether you like it or not, you’ve just got to carry our things. Put that in your pipe and smoke it, you crazy thing. Hold still, can’t you? It’s the same pack you had before, only a little fresh venison, and that fine pelt aboard.”
The other boys were laughing at the comical exertions of Billie, as he found himself swung around by the prancing mule, with which he was struggling so valiantly.
“That’s just what he’s objecting to so hard, Billie,” remarked Adrian, presently.
“What, that fine venison? Well, if he could only have a taste, perhaps then Bray wouldn’t be so mad at being made to carry it,” Billie panted, as he still yanked at the stout bridle of the snorting mule.
“It’s the panther skin, more than the venison, though I have known horses to object to carrying home meat,” Donald told him. “You see, they don’t like the smell of the fresh blood; and that skin just gets poor old Bray wild. He knows just by his instinct that it came from a terrible wild beast, that would jump on his back, and claw him, if it ever had the chance. And the mule isn’t intelligent enough to understand that it’s dead now, and couldn’t hurt him.”
“But he’s just got to carry it, Donald; you wouldn’t think of throwing away such an elegant skin that’ll make so fine a rug, just because an old mule makes up his mind he wants to kick?” Billie entreated.
“Yes, and we’ll lend you a helping hand, old fellow,” declared Adrian.
“He may hold out against one, but three will floor him, you mark my words,” Donald told the relieved fat boy.
And sure enough, finding that they were all against him; and perhaps realizing, after Donald had made him smell of the panther skin, that it did not bite, old Bray quieted down a little, so that they loaded him without further trouble. But he often gave a sudden lurch, and a snort during the balance of the day, as though catching a scent of the objectionable object, and feeling new alarm.
Donald had mapped out their course as well as he had been able, from the crude descriptions given to him by others. They knew that as the first day’s journey had really been wholly among the mountain heights, and this, the second one was for the most part down in the valley, so the third would differ in every respect from those that had gone before, since they must cross the dreary stretch of sand that was known far and wide as a dangerous desert.
But they would be certain to have an abundance of water along, and by keeping their heads about them, surely there could not be any great peril come upon them while making this passage.
So they thought, for youth is ever optimistic; and a merciful Fate takes delight in hiding the future from mortal eyes.
The middle of the afternoon found them making fair progress onward, still in the valley, though Donald warned them that in all probability they would camp that night on the edge of the wide desert strip that lay between them and the region where the village of the cliff dwellers was located.
“I’m getting awful thirsty,” remarked Billie, smacking his lips; “and this water we’re carrying along in the canteens is hot, and don’t seem to go right to the spot. I hope we’ll run across a good spring after a little while; because a nice cold drink would please me more’n I can tell you.”
“Cheer up then, Billie, for chances are we’ll do that very same before a great while,” said Adrian; “because I saw where Donald here has got a mark on his map that means water, and we can’t be very far away from it right now.”
Donald said nothing one way or the other, though Billie did cast an appealing look in his direction; he just kept on pushing ahead, and turning from time to time to take note of the country they were passing through, for his map was not very lucid, and wise Donald wanted to make sure he was right.
Indeed, hardly ten minutes later Billie was heard to give an exclamation of delight and rapture.
“There she is, fellows, and as fine a spring as you’d want to see in a ’coon’s age!” he went on to call out, in his explosive way. “And say, if somebody hasn’t gone and planted palms around it, too, just for all the world like the oasis you read about in stories of Africa. And just you watch me lower that same basin, when I get started. We’ve got to keep the ponies back, though, so they won’t muddy things up before we get our fill. See, they’ve scented water; you can tell it by the way they act.”
Both Adrian and Donald smiled, for they had noticed this same thing some little time before. The acute sense of smell on the part of the animals had allowed them to know about the presence of water long before their masters were aware of it.
“Hold on, take your time, Billie,” warned Donald; and somehow the other thought he said this in the queerest possible way.
“Oh! I see how it is, you just don’t feel like making a rush, and think we all ought to be on a level footing,” Billie observed, with as near an attempt at irony as he could attain. “H’m makes me think of that story they used to tell about the parson and his little flock on the coast.”
“What was that, Billie?” asked Donald.
“Why, you see, he had for his people mostly wreckers; and one day when he was preaching so fine, some one brought word that there was a wreck floated in down the coast. Of course every man in the congregation started to run, leaving the preacher stuck up there in his high pulpit. So he calls out, and tells them how wicked it was to think of such things on a Sunday; and all the while he talks he’s a heading toward the door, calming the men, and holding of ’em spellbound like. But when the parson gets right up to the door he alters his tune immediate, for what does he shout out but: ‘Now boys, as every one has an even chance, let’s hurry down and see if we can save any poor sailorman from that terrible wreck!’ And away he goes at the head of the string, lickety-split for the beach. And p’raps that’s what our friend Donald here’s got in mind.”
Both the others laughed at Billie’s story; but Donald did not seem inclined to either admit or deny the truth of the other’s accusation. Still Adrian could see that strange look on his face, and noted that Donald had taken up his station close alongside Billie, as though bent on restraining the other.
They quickly reached the palms that waved above the spring. Everyone could see that it was a perfectly lovely resting spot. The afternoon sun was quite hot down in the valley there, and the shade under those palms, with their wide crowns of handsome leaves, seemed particularly inviting.
But best of all was the gleam of the water that nestled in a fair sized cup under the trees. Billie had eyes only for this.
“Oh! don’t it look great, though?” he was saying enthusiastically, as he hastened his pace, while the others kept alongside persistently. “Plenty for all of us, and the ponies in the bargain. We might fill up the canteens again with fresh stuff because there’s no tellin’ whether we’ll run across another spring as fine as this one seems to be.”
“Yes, seems to be,” repeated Donald; but Billie was too anxious to get to drinking to pay any heed to the word.
He led the procession, and reached the border of the pool. It certainly did present a most inviting aspect to those hot and tired boys, and small blame to Billie that he should immediately proceed to throw himself down alongside the spring, as though bent on carrying out his threat to lower it more or less.
To his astonishment he felt someone grip him by the shoulder, before he could even wet his lips; and looking up in wonder, he saw it was Donald who held him.
“Didn’t I tell you to go slow, Billie?” said the other, seriously; “and here you are, rushing headlong into trouble, without even bothering looking around. Just turn you head, and take a peep at what you see there.”
Billie, his eyes as round as saucers with surprise, did so; and in another second he found himself staring at a piece of paper that was stuck in the cleft of a stick close to the water’s rim, and which had in large letters the one word “WARNING.”
CHAPTER IX.—THE POISONED SPRING.
All of them were staring at the little placard by now, even Adrian feeling almost as much astonishment as the kneeling Billie. Indeed, what they saw written there in a crude manner was quite enough to give the fat boy a cold chill. Underneath that plainly printed word “Warning!” was the following:
“Don’t yu drink here, spring poizened by crazy Injun long tim ago. Dangrous. Go on further down vally, mor water.”
There was no name signed, but just then none of the boys thought anything about that little fact.
“What!” burst out the indignant Billie, “poisoned, this lovely spring? Now, ain’t that just too bad for anything? And so we don’t get a drink after all. But whatever d’ye think any Injun’d want to do such a mean thing as that for?”
“Well,” remarked Donald, “I’ve heard something about this same spring, and that was why I warned you to go slow. Fact is, I expected we’d run across this before we came to the one that’s safe to drink from. But I tell you plainly though, I didn’t expect to find this kind warning stuck up here. The boys didn’t say a word about that. And as sure as you live, Adrian, I begin to believe it was put here today, and for our special benefit!”
“Listen to that, now, would you?” burst out Billie, still staring hard at the paper in the cleft stick that had been pushed into the ground; “the mystery deepens, seems like. One night we have an unknown friend wounding an Injun that’s trying to make way with our ponies; and now here’s somebody mighty anxious that we don’t drink from this poisoned spring. It’s sure getting interesting, fellers; and I’d give a cookey to know who he might be, wouldn’t you?”
But from the blank expression on the faces of his two chums, Billie realized that they were just as far from guessing the truth as he might be.
“Then we don’t take the chances of having even a little drink here, do we?” the sorely disappointed fat boy asked, as he sat and looked regretfully at the water that was so tempting.
“Better not,” decided Donald. “It might be only some sort of fake; but we can’t afford to take the chances, you see. Let somebody else experiment, if they want to. So long as there is another spring hole further down the valley, why, we’d better be trotting along. And just notice the way the ponies sniff the air, will you? I really believe they know that this water is bad to drink.”
“What, ponies know better than human beings, do they?” demanded Billie, hardly relishing such a state of affairs.
“They’ve been given an unerring instinct, where we depend on reason, and that often fails us. Just watch a horse feeding, and notice how he refuses to touch all kinds of weeds, and how a cow drops the same out of her mouth after she’s scooped in a whole bunch of grass. Instinct, and nothing else. But there’s no use in us hanging out here, when we can soon get to good water.”
Reluctantly Billie quitted that beautiful spring. He even turned to look back at it several times, and went on to remark:
“That crazy Injun ought to have been shot, to do such a thing. Why didn’t he pick out an ordinary spring, and put his loco weed in the same?”
“Oh! well, perhaps that story is only one of the Indian legends we read about, and it’s really something else that makes the water coming from that spring bad, so that people who drink it feel sick right away. I’ve got an idea myself that it must pass through some sort of copper deposit that poisons the water. Because if this thing happened years and years ago, as the reds say, how could the poison still keep on working?”
“Well, now, that doesn’t stand to reason, does it?” remarked Billie. “And I reckon you’re right when you say it, Donald. But let me tell you I never was more disappointed in my life. But I didn’t notice any bones lying around there, or graves either.”
“What makes you say that?” demanded Adrian.
“Why, if the water is really poisoned, lots of fellows must have drank of it, time in and time out, not knowing how dangerous it was; and if they fell down and kicked the bucket, wouldn’t we see their bones scattered around, just as the wolves and coyotes had left ’em?”
“Oh! it doesn’t kill you outright, they say; just sickens you, until you feel like you’d be glad to die to end it all,” Donald assured him.
“I’ve heard people talk that way about being seasick,” Billie observed; and then he seemed to fall into a musing spell, as though the recent strange event had, as was only natural, made a serious impression on his mind.
It was only half an hour later that the ponies again manifested an unusual eagerness to get on. Donald called the attention of Billie to the fact.
“You notice that there isn’t the least sign of water, so far as we can see for ourselves, Billie; and yet they scent it plain enough. Doesn’t that prove what I said about their being smarter than any human being?”
Billie admitted that it did; for he was very frank, and ready to own up to anything, after he had been convinced of his error.
“P’raps we might let the ponies try first this time,” he suggested, cautiously. “If they tackle it right off the reel, then it ought to be safe for us to drink, eh, fellows?”
“Not a bad idea at all, Billie, and does you credit,” said Adrian; “sort of taking advantage of their sagacity, you might call it, I reckon.”
“Only don’t let ’em muddy things for us,” admonished the fat boy. “Somebody else will have to lend me a hand with Bray here, because I just can’t hold him in when he takes a notion to do something.”
“That’s easily managed,” laughed Donald, coming up on the other side, so that he could lean over, and grip the rope that served as a bridle for the pack mule.
The little trick turned out very well, for none of the animals manifested the slightest disposition to scorn the water of the second spring. Indeed, they one and all sucked in such huge draughts that Billie immediately became alarmed lest they exhaust the limited supply.
“Hold your horses, there!” he called out, pulling back on Jupiter’s bridle, although the horse seemed unwilling to mind; “give a fellow a chance, won’t you? Don’t go and hog it all, just because we were considerate enough to let you drink first. Have some manners, can’t you, I say? Drag ’em back, boys, and let’s get a sup ourselves before it’s all gone.”
“No worry, Billie,” said Donald; “because, if you look sharp you’ll see that the spring is running at a lively rate, and the cup’ll fill up with fresh water right off. It creeps away under this rank vegetation, and is lost in the sand beyond. But there’s going to be plenty of water right along. Better let the ponies have all they want while we’re about it.”
“Oh! I s’pose that’s right,” grumbled Billie, “but I was always brought up to say ‘gentlemen first;’ and it kind of goes against the grain to just keep on being thirsty while animals are sucking it all down by barrels full.”
However, when a little later on the pool filled again with fresh water, Billie admitted that it was delightfully cool and refreshing. And then besides, they owed the horses something for showing them that the water was uncontaminated, and good to drink.
“I’m going to propose something that will have to be settled by a majority vote,” said Donald, a short time later, as he looked smilingly at his two chums.
“I can give a guess what it is; but go on,” observed Adrian, nodding.
“What time is it, Billie?” the other continued.
So Billie, consulting the little nickel watch he carried, replied that it wanted just three minutes of four.
“You see, the day is pretty nearly done,” Donald continued, impressively; “and we couldn’t go much farther if we tried. Besides, we won’t find another spring on the trail between here and the edge of the desert, which truth to tell can’t be far from this spot. So I was going to propose that we camp right here tonight.”
“Eureka! count on my vote in favor of that same!” cried Billie, promptly falling in with the scheme, as Donald knew full well he would; because if there was one thing the fat boy liked above all others it was fresh water; and there were times when it seemed as though he could never drink enough, especially should the weather turn hot.
“Make it unanimous, Donald,” laughed Adrian; “for I knew that was what you meant to say. Fact is, I was thinking about broaching the idea myself, when you took the words right out of my mouth.”
“Another thing,” ventured the pleased Billie; “we can fill up our canteens fresh before we start in the morning; and make the ponies drink all they want; for if we have to cross that sand stretch, why, the chances are it’ll be a dry job, and we’ll be glad we stopped over night here, see if we don’t.”
As it was settled that they should go no further that day, the three lads started to get the camp in shape. First they found a place where the animals could be staked out, so that they might pick up some of the grass which seemed only to grow around the spring hole, as is often the case in this country of the Southwest, where arid wastes and rocky regions predominate.
Then the tent was erected, and the fireplace made; so that in a short time things began to take on the appearance of a regular camp. Billie was in his glory at such a time. He knew that soon there would be a delicious aroma filling the air, as they started to get supper ready; and that always tickled him greatly. As the war horse prances when he whiffs the smoke of battle, so Billie became animated as soon as he caught the first scent of onions frying, or coffee boiling; as he would himself say, “simply because he was built that way, and couldn’t help it.”
And so the second day of their journey across the wild country that lay between the Red Spar Mine and the village of the Zuni Indians, came to an end, with all well. Billie could not see that they had any reason to complain, as, seated on the ground, tailor fashion, with his legs curled under him, and a pannikin of venison, together with fried onions and beans, in his lap, his tin cup of fragrant coffee resting close beside him, he started in to appease the ferocious appetite that had been worrying him for half an hour and more.
Why, the future looked as bright as that glowing sky that marked the going down of the sun in the west. For it did not lie in their power to roll back the curtains of the future for even one day, and see what lay awaiting them on the morrow. Perhaps Billie might not have felt so light-hearted had he known what was coming; but after all it was just as well.
CHAPTER X.—LOST IN THE SAND STORM.
They passed a fairly comfortable night, in camp there by the spring. Nothing occurred to cause an alarm, though Donald and Adrian would not allow the camp to go unguarded, and took turns playing sentry.
Billie, too, was quite anxious to try his hand at the job; and they had to let him have a turn; but not feeling any confidence that the fat boy would stay awake Donald made sure to keep one eye open. And sure enough, later on he found Billie calmly sleeping, with his gun across his knees.
At first Donald was half tempted to give the other a scare by firing his own gun close to the slumbering sentry’s ear; but on second thought he decided not to do this. Billie meant well, and was so good-natured; besides, it was hard for any one to get provoked at the fat chum, no matter what happened; because he was always trying to do his level best. Then again, the report would give Adrian a shock, which must seem cruel and unnecessary.
Morning found them much refreshed, and ready to take up the new duties of the day. Although Billie had now been quite some time in this country of the Southwest, he had as yet never had but one experience in crossing a desert, and nothing had happened at that time to strike him as odd.
Donald warned him that perhaps he was going to experience something now he would not be apt to soon forget.
“For they told me,” he went on to add, “at the mine, that this same strip of burning sand lying short of the Zuni village is a particularly wicked place to be caught out on, should one of those sand storms come along.”
“Sand storms, did you say, Donald? Now what under the sun can you mean by that? Does it rain sand out here?” Billie wanted to know immediately.
“You’ll think it does before long, if we’re so unlucky as to run across such a thing,” Donald told him.
“You see,” Adrian explained, “the sand is so fine that when the wind increases to a gale, instead of rain, the air is filled with clouds of sand that choke you, and cause those hills and windrows to come and go, changing after each storm. Over in Africa the Arabs fear them worse than anything else going. They have animals in the camels that are fitted best of all to live through such a storm; and so they just give up, and hide their heads until it’s all over; then dig a way out, and continue their journey.”
“Whew! that sounds interesting like,” commented Billie; “and do you think we’ll strike it as bad as that?”
“Nobody can say,” continued Donald; “but let’s hope by all means that we get across without any experience of the kind. Perhaps you think it sounds interesting, but take my word for it, Billie, if it comes, you’ll sure believe you’re having the worst time of your whole life.”
After that Billie did not seem quite so anxious to know what a sand storm was like. He realized that when his chums took a thing so seriously there must be something about it that was menacing.
Donald was right when he said that they had camped not a great ways from where the mountains came to an end, and the glistening desert lay beyond; for two hours after leaving the spring they found themselves on the border of the wide sandy stretch.
Billie looked out over that sizzling desert, and began to realize the meaning of what Donald and Adrian had said when they told him about its terrors. But there was no other trail by means of which they could reach the Zuni village; and unless they wished to give that project up for good and all, they must proceed, come what would.
As Billie was the one who wanted to look upon the strange sights connected with the quaint homes of the cliff dwellers, he held his peace; though truth to tell the prospect of a ride of hours across that desert did not appeal very much to him now, after he had heard such dismal stories about what it could do when it took a notion.
The sunshine was very vivid, and half blinded them when they tried to look far away to where Donald said the other elevation undoubtedly lay, amidst which the Zuni village was to be found. From another quarter it could be reached without any necessity for crossing the desert, but not from the south.
“Kind of like buying a pig in the poke, ain’t it, this thing of starting out there without seeing where you’re heading for?” remarked Billie, a little uneasily; for now that he was gazing on the sandy waste, its tremendous possibilities began to really awe him; and then the way the sun was shining on the billows of sand made him feel as though they must come near being roasted before they had gone a great ways.
“Oh! we know that we’ve got to keep heading straight into the northwest; and what’s the use of having compasses with us if we can’t keep our course?” said Donald, who did not appear to be worried at the prospect.
So they started off.
It soon began to feel uncomfortable for the fat boy; and he was heard to mumble more or less to himself; but Billie was a “stayer,” as Adrian called it; and once he embarked on an undertaking he would not easily give up. So he mopped his reeking forehead, and kept everlastingly at it, even urging his pony to renewed exertions; though the wise animal seemed to know there was no use trying to make haste while plodding through these sand hills.
“Well, I never knew before I came out here, that a desert was like this,” Billie had blurted out once, when Adrian came alongside, and he just felt that he had to say something.
“Few people do know anything about it until they see with their own eyes,” returned the other boy; “for of course you believed that it must be perfectly flat, and as level as a billiard table, didn’t you?”
“That’s right,” returned the frank Billie; “and here it’s all sand hills, many of ’em equal to little mountains, and all frilled and scolloped like. That’s where the wind makes its fancy work, I take it. Many a time I’ve seen dry snow cut like that; and sand acts just the same way, don’t it?”
“Exactly,” answered Adrian; “and as we’ve been moving along for nearly two hours now, look back and see where the mountains we left lie.”
No sooner had Billie turned his head than he gave a cry of wonder.
“Why, they’ve gone!” he exclaimed; “blotted right out of sight, too. Never saw anything like it before, believe me. It must be the glare of the sun on all this white sand that does it. Only for the dark glasses we’re wearing, that same would be making us nearly blind, I take it.”
“Sure thing,” Adrian told him, and then almost immediately he went on to say in a different tone of voice, that had a vein of new anxiety in it, Billie thought: “I wonder why Donald is rubbering so much for toward the southwest. Perhaps he feels the hot breeze that’s beginning to blow from there. I hope it doesn’t mean we’re going to have a sand storm.”
Billie pricked up his ears, so to speak; that is, he showed considerable interest, and himself turned to watch Donald.
“He does look like he had got on the track of something out of the usual run, for a fact,” he muttered, uneasily.
Then he sneezed several times in quick succession, at which Adrian looked as if even this simple event had its significance.
“Beginning to be dust in the air, and I always sneeze when it tickles my nose,” Billie started to say, as if in apology for his explosion.
“Yes, the breeze is picking up, and already the air is starting to get full of the fine sand,” Adrian told him.
“Does that mean we’re bound to run up against a real sand storm?” Billie wanted to know at once, scenting trouble.
“Donald’s coming this way, and we’ll soon hear what he thinks,” was all Adrian would say.
“Looks to me as if we’re going to get caught out here in a lovely mess,” Donald told them, as he came up.
“Sand storm, is it?” demanded Billie, trying not to show any apprehension, for he never wanted others to know when his heart was beating faster than its wont.
“Yes, and coming down on us like two-forty,” the other declared. “Watch the nags, and you’ll see that they know what they’re in for. Here’s Wireless been looking over that way every little while for ten minutes past. The wind’s rising, and all around us the sand is stirring, so that the air’s getting thicker all the while. Before half an hour we’ll have the worst of it around us. It’s about noon now, and let’s hope that we get to the hills before night sets in.”
“What’s the programme?” asked Billie, undaunted Billie, carelessly enough.
“Keep as close together as we can travel, and go straight ahead,” answered Donald; “there’ll be all sorts of queer noises around us, so pay no attention to them. Be sure and keep your mouth shut all the time; and have water along with you, every fellow, so that in case one of us did stray away, he wouldn’t die of thirst before he could be found. Now, let’s push on again.”
His words were more than verified, for presently the wind grew to the proportions of a gale, and the way that fine sand whirled through the air was something that Billie had never expected to experience in all his life.
It was a terrible task to press on, but luckily the prevailing wind was from the southwest now, and so they had the worst of the sand storm to their backs. Only for that they could not have ventured to attempt any progress whatever; but must have camped where they were, to wait for the whirlwind of sand to cease.
Billie, with his head bowed, and drawing his breath with great difficulty, kept steadily moving on. He managed to keep in close touch with his chums for some time, and then, falling into some sort of a dreamy state, possibly brought about by his sufferings, and the effect of the blinding sand with which the air was charged, he forgot to keep constantly on the alert. The consequence was that suddenly Billie aroused to the startling fact that neither to the right nor to the left, nor yet ahead of him could he discover the faintest sign of the others. All about was the whirling, blinding sand; while strange noises made his head ring, and he fancied that he could see tempting pools of cool water close at hand, which his common sense told him were only the effect of imagination.
And then and there Billie had a cold sensation in the region of his heart that contrasted strangely with his torrid surroundings, for he knew that he was lost!
CHAPTER XI.—AN UNPLEASANT EXPERIENCE.
At first poor Billie was almost wild with the fear that swept over him, when he realized his true condition, and that he was lost in that sand storm in the heart of an Arizona desert.
He started to shout, but made a sorry mess of it. The fine sand almost choked him as soon as he opened his mouth; and the fierce wind that was sending it scurrying all around in little whirlwinds carried his feeble cry away, so that he knew it could not be heard twenty feet distant.
He sat there on the back of Jupiter, and waited, still hugging the hope to his heart that his chums would immediately miss him, and come hastily back on their course to find him. And if that happened, Billie knew that his chances would be considerably improved did he stay where he was, rather than start roaming this way and that.
But the minutes lengthened into nearly half an hour, and there was not the slightest sign of any one being near him. The storm still kept up, and Donald had said that the probability was it would continue until sundown, when the wind might lull, so as to allow the choked atmosphere a chance to rid itself of the floating gritty sand.
By degrees Billie began to get his nerve back. He was far from being a coward; only he lacked experience; and was moreover hardly fitted either physically or through education for butting up against these rude experiences.
“I’ve just got to do something, and I can’t stay here, that’s plain,” he told himself; “which means I’ve got to go on. But I want to be mighty careful about how I travel. I’ve heard tell how people are apt to go round and round in a circle till they’re played out, and exhausted. None of that for me; and why should there be when I’m carrying that precious little compass.”
Thereupon Billie fumbled around in the various pockets of his khaki hunting coat, meaning to find the said compass, and get his bearings. He had quite a fright at first, for he failed to find it where he expected; and was running through all his other pockets wildly, when he happened to remember placing it in his hat at the time he last looked at the instrument, which was when one of his chums mentioned the fact that they would have to depend on the magnetic needle should they be overwhelmed in just such a storm.
It was a great relief to the fat boy to discover the little brass bound compass safely lodged in his hat when he hastily looked. Owing to the air being filled with the flying sand it was only after considerable difficulty that he could see just which way the indicator pointed. So he started off, urging the unwilling Jupiter to put his best foot forward, though the animal gave evidences of being more inclined to stand still, with his tail toward the storm.
Billie would never be likely to forget that terrible experience. Why, the worst he had pictured came far short of the reality.
He suffered keenly constantly, and many times thought he could not bear it any longer; but it is wonderful how much any one can do when they are compelled to by a merciless fate; and so as the time dragged on poor Billie kept moving along, always keeping toward the north, as best he could decide.
When he came to examine his little watch, and saw how late it was getting, he was ready to throw up his hands, and quit. It looked as though he was just bound to spend a lonely night out there on the wild desert, no matter how he fixed it; and that being the case, why not give in now, and have it done with?
Besides, he was utterly worn out with trying to urge the unwilling Jupiter on; as well as from his own physical sufferings. Half blinded, and hardly able to get his breath on account of the fine dust that settled in both nostrils and throat, Billie was an object of pity to himself about that time.
When he made up his mind that he must grin and bear it, even if compelled to camp there all by himself on that dreary waste, Billie started to dismount. Why, at first he could hardly move, he was so stiff with sitting there in the saddle so long, and in a cramped position; but exerting himself again, he managed to half tumble to the ground.
Jupiter did not offer to run away. Indeed, the horse seemed to cower close to his young master, as though trusting to his sagacity in this emergency. Billie noticed this, and somehow it struck him as curious; it also did more than a little to bolster up his courage. For if the broncho felt such confidence in him, surely he must exert himself to prove that he was worthy of such sublime faith.
After all it was little he could do save cower there, patiently waiting for sundown to come; for he remembered that one of his chums had said the sand storm was very apt to peter out at about that time.
How glad he was that he had water with him,—not enough to share with Jupiter, to tell the truth, for he could not tell how long he might remain lost, and was apt to need every drop himself, to keep life in his body.
The animal whinnied whenever he opened his canteen to wet his parched throat, and somehow the sound made sympathetic Billie feel badly. After that he made it a point to step aside when he meant to quench his own thirst, just to avoid having Jupiter reproach him for being stingy. But it was not to be thought of for a minute, because the horse would exhaust the flask, and then not be a quarter satisfied, leaving him in a desperate state indeed.
Fortunately he had a little food with him, and this he proceeded to munch as he sat there behind the shelter of the horse.
He asked himself if the storm showed any signs of diminishing its fury; and after taking several estimates joyfully admitted that at least the wind was not so fierce as formerly.
This in itself was a glorious sign, for without the wind the sand could not fill the air; and by degrees it must settle down once more, so that one might breathe without feeling choked.
If that would only come about Billie felt that he could easily stand anything and everything else that was liable to happen. But should he have to endure that agony another few hours he believed he would go out of his mind.
Yes, there could not be any mistake about it, the storm was surely subsiding, and if conditions kept on improving as they seemed to be doing now, by the time night set in fully it was going to be a thing of the past.
Billie even began to tell himself that he had no reason to complain, because it might have been a great deal worse. Except for the fact that he was compelled to keep a lone camp, away out there on that desert, and was tired almost to death, he could not say that his condition was in any way dreadful. Yes, he even believed he had plenty of water to quench his thirst; though it was evident that he would have to cut his allowance down to half rations, for his repeated sips had already caused the big canteen to feel considerably lighter.
Looking up toward the heavens when he found that night had really set in, he was surprised to find that he could not see a single star; and the moon was also absent. This must mean that there were clouds sailing over him, something quite out of the common where a desert is concerned; since rain seldom if ever is known to fall there; for if it did the desert would not long remain such, but blossom like the rose with fertility.
“Going to be a black night, in the bargain,” he grumbled; “seems like a fellow just has to rub up against all sorts of things when once they get started. But so far I hadn’t ought to complain. I only hope the other boys fare as well. Wonder how about them now; and if they got off the desert? Chances are they hunted around for Broncho Billie more’n half the afternoon. P’raps they’re keeping everlastingly at it even now. Huh! reckon Billie ain’t a baby, and can look out for himself some, if I do say it myself, as hadn’t ought to. Huh! I’m alearning right fast, seems to me.”
The fact that he had come out so well thus far seemed to inspire a new confidence in the stout boy. He even patted himself proudly on his chest, and congratulated himself on having snapped off several pictures of the gathering cloud of sand as it bore down upon them. If these turned out halfway decent, he would have something worth while to exhibit to his schoolboy friends away off in the East, when he went home again after his vacation was over.
The wind having died down fully now, the sand settled, and Billy believed that if it were daytime he might see where the hilly country lay in the midst of which was the Zuni village. But of course, in the darkness of a moonless night he could not make any sort of a discovery, and must apparently be satisfied to remain there in his makeshift camp until another day dawned, and brought new hope in its train.
He had secured Jupiter the best way he could, not wanting the pony to wander away during the time he, Billie, might be asleep. That would be a calamity the fat boy disliked to even contemplate. It was bad enough having to ride over that scorching sand; but to be compelled to go afoot, with the heat burning through the soles of his shoes, must be ten times worse.
The pony had evidently made up its mind that what “could not be cured must be endured.” He stood there, close to where Billie had camped, and hardly moved. Perhaps later on he would lie down to rest, for he too must be weary, after such a strenuous day.
Billie found himself nodding presently. He was tired clean through, and knew of no reason why he should not secure his fair portion of balmy sleep, the strength renewer.
Once he had thought he might try shouting as loud as he could, but gave the idea up as useless. Even if his chums heard him in the far distance what good would it do to start them out on the desert again, roaming all around in search of him? No, it was best that he simply make the time pass by what means lay in his power, and with the dawning of another day he would feel refreshed, so that he could set out toward the north, always toward the north, he kept on telling himself, as he fondly touched the pocket where the compass was securely hidden.
Again Billie was nodding as he sat there. Had he been left undisturbed the chances were that before five minutes he would have rolled over in his blanket, and settled down to sleep; and after that the hours would slip along, for Billie was a famous sleeper.
But this was not to be, for a certain sound came stealing along over the desert and struck upon the ears of the boy, causing him to instantly sit up, wide-awake:
“Wolves, as sure as anything!” he told his pony, already whinnying the alarm.