"Me savvy. Tlee."

"Three? That is better than I hoped for," chuckled the guide.

"With three we can reasonably look forward to finding the others somewhere on the desert, but we can't do much to improve our situation until daylight. No use to search for our equipment before then. I will look into the water question, however, right now."

"This is the most violent landscape that it has ever been my misfortune to gaze upon," declared Elfreda Briggs, tossing her fallen hair up and down to shake the sand out of it, a proceeding that was followed by each of the girls.

"At least we have one thing to be thankful for," observed Anne. "I thank my stars that it is so dark that we cannot see how really tough we do look."

"If I look as bad as I feel I must be a terrible sight," wailed Emma. "Here comes Hi. Have we water?"

"Not a drop except what you have in your canteens. The water hole is buried so deep that we have lost it. Guard every drop. We are in a serious situation."

CHAPTER XI

FACING A NEW PERIL

"Aren't the water bags safe?" asked Hippy.

"They're gone," said the guide.

"Everything but the sand seems to be gone," observed Miss Briggs.

"I suppose we should thank the kind fates that we still have plenty of sand."

"Plenty of some things is too much," declared Nora Wingate.

"Hippy, my darlin', you weren't hurt, were you?"

"Yes, I was killed, but I have come to life again. Hi, what is the next thing to be done?"

"Kill time until daylight!"

That was practically what the Overland Riders did, but with the first streaks of dawn the barren spot a.s.sumed an appearance of activity.

"Lieutenant, we'll go out and look for the horses," announced the guide.

"Is Blackie still here?" questioned Grace.

"No, but there are three ponies left, as you know. Wish to go along?"

"Yes."

Ping was directed what to do, and Miss Briggs was left to see that the orders of the guide were carried out during his absence. Hi, Hippy and Grace then mounted the remaining ponies and started away, working back toward the range that they had left two days before. The wind had blown in that direction and it was reasonable to suppose that the lost animals had been driven before it.

"Spread out, but keep within sight of the lieutenant, who will be middle man," directed the guide.

When they had finally taken up their positions, some three miles separated Grace Harlowe and the guide, with Hippy a mile and a half from each of the two outside riders.

The sun was not yet up, and the morning, while not uncomfortable, gave promise of what Hi Lang had said it would be--a sizzler.

The three had ridden for a full hour, when off to her right Grace discovered what she thought was one of their ponies. Urging her mount forward, she galloped rapidly in that direction, but after riding for some time she was amazed to find that the animal seemed to be as far away as when she had started toward him.

"I hope to goodness the pony I see isn't a desert mirage,"

muttered Grace. "Mirage or no mirage I am going to run it to earth."

She galloped on at a more rapid pace, but it was a long time, it seemed to Grace, before she saw that she really was nearing the little animal, who was browsing on desert sage, or what few sc.r.a.ps of it remained after the storm.

Hoping fervently that it was her own little spirited Blackie, Grace urged her mount forward at a lively clip and bore down on the bronco who began edging off when he saw her heading for him.

"It's Elfreda's pony!" cried Grace. "Here, boy; here, boy!" she called.

The "lost" animal kicked up its heels and started away at a gallop, with Grace Harlowe in full pursuit.

"How provoking!" cried Grace as the bronco kept galloping from her with aggravating persistence. The Overland girl rode and coaxed until she tired of it, then, touching her mount lightly with the crop, she dashed straight for the tantalizing roamer.

It was a race for a little while, the runners steadily drawing away from Hippy Wingate and Hi Lang, but to this Grace gave no thought. Once she nearly got her hand on the bridle of Elfreda's mount, but the little fellow dodged her at the critical moment.

"Oh, for a rope and the skill to throw it. I'll learn to throw a la.s.so at once. I see it is necessary out here. Whoa, boy!" she commanded sharply.

The runaway bronco stopped short, and, with feet spread apart, stood gazing at her as if daring the Overland girl to come and catch him. Grace decided to try new tactics. Dismounting, and slipping her bridle rein over one arm, she walked slowly toward the animal, plucking a bunch of sage as she went, and holding it out toward him.

The pony looked interested, his ears sloped forward and he took a step or two towards her. Grace walked up to him confidently, gave him the handful of sage and, after petting him, grasped the lead rope and then the bridle.

"All of which goes to prove the a.s.sertion that it is easier to catch flies with mola.s.ses than with vinegar. Now be a good boy, and we will jog back home to Elfreda," she soothed to the captured pony.

Mounting, and attaching the end of the lead rope to the pommel of her saddle, Grace started for camp. At least she thought that was what she did. Instead she was headed for the range of mountains on which they had first made camp. After a little the Overland Rider came to a realization that the guide and Hippy were nowhere in sight. Still, she was not greatly disturbed, but she was thirsty.

A few drops of water from her canteen was all that she dared allow herself.

Grace had been traveling for the better part of an hour, from time to time glancing up at the glaring sun that was just rising, when she suddenly brought her pony up short.

"Do you think you can find the way back if I give you the rein?"

she asked, petting her mount.

The pony pawed the dirt and whinnied, but his rider knew that it was because he too was thirsty, instead of being an answer to her question.

Grace paused to reflect over her situation, to consider what was the wise thing to do, finally deciding that she would follow her trail back to the spot at which she captured the pony.

"From there it should be easy for me to find my original trail; then all I shall have to do will be to follow it to the camp. We must go back," decided Grace, turning about and starting away at a trot, finding no difficulty in making out the tracks of the two ponies.

The spot at which she had found the lost bronco was reached at last. Grace sat for some moments, staring at the landscape, turning in her saddle until she had looked all the way around the compa.s.s, then, clucking to the two animals, trotted away, following her original trail.

As she progressed, the trail grew fainter, a desert breeze having almost obliterated the tracks her pony made on the way out with Hi Lang and Hippy Wingate. To make certain that she was on the right road, Grace got down and compared her mount's footprints with those that she was following.

"Yes, I am positive that I am right," she decided and once more set out. "Hark!" she exclaimed sharply.

Three faraway shots had been fired. Grace waited, and in a few moments the shots were repeated. She raised her revolver and fired three signal shots in return. She did this twice, then reloaded and thrust the revolver into its holster.