"If only it wasn't for that man whom I'm certain I saw," thought Peggy as she combed the sand out of her hair, "I should feel quite relieved, but as it is--Roy, are you still certain you saw that man--the one you pointed the revolver at I mean?"

Roy looked dubious.

"I--don't know," he confessed.

"Oh, Roy Prescott," snapped Peggy, "I--I'd like to shake you."

CHAPTER XXI

OUT OF THE DESERT MAZE

Twilight was descending on the camp in the arroyo when Jimsy, who had been stationed with a rifle on a b.u.t.te overlooking the desert maze, gave a sudden shout. The next instant his rifle was at his shoulder and he began shooting into the air as fast as he could. As the rapid staccato volley of sound rattled forth all became excitement in the arroyo.

The volley had been the signal agreed upon in case the young sentry caught sight of the missing ones. It came after a wearing night and a still more harrowing day. Following the non-arrival of Peggy and Roy in camp from their hunting excursion a search had at once been commenced, of course without result.

An ascent had even been made in one of the monoplanes, but even a bird's-eye view of the surrounding country failed to discover their whereabouts. Then came the sandstorm, and hope that the missing ones could have weathered it was almost given up. Nevertheless, James Bell, in whom hope died hard, had set Jimsy as sentinel on the lofty b.u.t.te in the wild hope that after all the castaways might turn up.

And now, as the agreed signal rang out, there was a great outpouring from the camp. Aunt Sally, pale and red-eyed from weeping, Mr.

Bell, with deep lines of anxiety scoring his face, Jess, troubled and anxious looking, and old Peter Bell, the former hermit, bearing an expression of mild bewilderment. Last of all came Alverado, the Mexican flotsam of the desert. His inscrutable countenance bore no sign of the suffering he had gone through at the thought that harm had come to his worshipped senorita, but in his heart the Mexican had suffered as much as the rest. He had arrived in camp with the stock the evening before, and had, with difficulty, been restrained from setting forth at once on a search.

"Look!" cried Jimsy pointing as the others rushed up.

They followed the direction of his finger and saw slowly crawling toward the arroyo a red wagon, dust-covered and travel-stained.

In front of it were two young figures on horseback, waving frantically. As the volley rattled out they urged their little horses forward on a dash for the arroyo.

"Thank G.o.d!" breathed Mr. Bell huskily.

Aunt Sally fell into Jess's young arms and wept l.u.s.tily while old Bell broke into a rhapsody:

"Out from the desert safe and sound; Hooray! our boy and girl are found!"

But n.o.body paid any attention to his verses, either to laugh or admire just then. After the cruel anxiety of the past hours the relief was too great for any of them to trust themselves to speak.

But as Peggy and Roy--for of course our readers have guessed it was they--drew closer and their dust-covered features could be plainly seen, a great shout went up from the b.u.t.te. And in it mingled the voice of Alverado, the unemotional.

The girl and boy were fairly lifted from their ponies and carried in triumph into the camp.

"Dig down into the stores," ordered Mr. Bell, "Get out all the delicacies we have been savin' for a big occasion."

"We'll never have a bigger one than this," declared Jimsy; "tell us all about it, Roy."

"Oh, Peggy, you darling, is it really you?" cried Jess for the 'steenth time, with br.i.m.m.i.n.g eyes.

As for old Mr. Bell, as Jimsy observed afterwards, "he just wrapped poetical circles round himself. You couldn't see him for rhythm."

"Hullo, folks!"

The voice came suddenly from the shadows. It was Wandering William.

In the general excitement everybody had forgotten him, and he, had driven up in his red wagon unheralded. But the warmth of his reception made up for any temporary slight. In fact, after supper, when Roy related their strange adventures, and told how, if it had not been for Wandering William, they might never have reached the camp, Wandering William's greeting reached an ovation.

But while all this was going on one figure had remained crouched in the circle of firelight--or, rather, just beyond it--whose dark eyes had not for an instant left the face of Wandering William. The interested observer was Alverado.

The Mexican puckered his brow as be gazed as if trying to recall something. But the effort seemed to be in vain, for at length he arose and, unnoticed, strode moodily off toward the ponies, which had been tethered high on the hillside and out of sight of the camp.

He was gone but a few minutes before he came bounding back into the camp.

"The ponies! The ponies are gone!" he shouted at the top of his lungs.

In an instant everybody but Aunt Sally and old Mr. Bell was upon his or her feet.

"Gone!" The exclamation came like a dismayed groan.

"Yes, gone! Every one of them! The lariats have been cut. Ah, the ladrone, the cursed thieves! The--"

"Some of Red Bill's work, for a million!"

The exclamation fell sharp and clear from Professor Wandering William's lips. The tones were so unlike his usual ones that everybody looked up at him. But only for an instant; the next moment the professor had--dropped back into his pompous, drawling way of speaking:

"It's a good thing we have a large supply of my wonder working remedies with us," he said; "they induce philosophy, smooth the th.o.r.n.y ways of life and make the old young and the young younger."

Mr. Bell looked at him sternly for an instant, and then apparently decided that the man was a harmless fool, for with a quick exclamation he strode off toward his tent, which lay at some distance from the camp. The others excitedly discussed the alarming turn events had taken, while Aunt Sally showed strong symptoms of hysterics. But Alverado, whose face had taken on a startled expression at Wandering William's quick exclamation, darted to the long-haired herb doctor's side.

"I know you now, senor, you are--"

Wandering William caught the man's gesticulating hand with a grasp of iron.

"Not so loud, Alverado," he whispered tensely, "the time isn't ripe for that yet."

"But, senor, you will capture them, and--"

The Mexican's manner had grown deferential, but Wandering William checked him with a glance from those keen eyes of his.

"Don't mention a word of this, Alverado. I rely on you."

"You can, senor. But hark! what is the matter with the Senor Bell?"

Evidently something serious was the matter with the mining man. He came bounding out of the dark shadows of the upper end of the canyon as the Mexican spoke. His face was black as thunder.

"More villainy!" he exclaimed as questions came pouring in upon him.

"Something else missing?"

It was Wandering William. His voice was as emotionless as if he had been a phonograph.