The Phantom Town Mystery

He helped Mary up to her seat, then took the place Dick had relinquished to climb in back with Dora. Slowly the small car started down the road which they had ascended hours before.

“What thrilling adventures and narrow escapes we have had today!” Dora exclaimed, loud enough for Jerry to hear.

“I reckon they’re not all over yet,” the cowboy replied, – then wished he had not spoken.

“What do you suppose Jerry means?” Dora asked in a low voice of Dick.

The boy’s first reply was a shrug of his shoulders. “Nothing, really; at least I don’t think he does.” Then, as they rounded an outflung curve in the road and he saw the dull yellow flying cloud far below them, Dick added, as though suddenly understanding, “Oho, I savvy. Jerry is thinking of the sand storm.”

“But, of course, it can’t climb the mountain and equally, of course, Jerry won’t run right out into it,” Dora said. Dick agreed, then asked:

“But what if the sand storm lasted for hours and we had to stay in the mountain all night, wouldn’t that be another adventure, and if we should hear pumas prowling around the car wishing to devour us, wouldn’t that be a narrow escape?”

Dora laughed. “Do you know, Dick, when I first met you, I thought you were as solemn as an owl. I didn’t dream that you were, I mean, are a humorist.”

“Thanks for not saying clown.” Dick seemed so ridiculously grateful that Dora laughed again.

“You remind me of Harold Lloyd,” she said, “and I hope you think that’s a compliment. He looks through his shell-rimmed glasses just as solemnly as you do when he’s saying the funniest things.”

Instead of replying, Dick peered curiously ahead. “I reckon the ‘another adventure or narrow escape’ is about to happen,” he said in a low voice close to Dora’s ear. “Leastwise our vehicle is slowing to a stop.”

Jerry, making sure that the front wheels were safely wedged against the mountain, turned and inquired, “Dick, can you and Dora hear a roaring noise?”

“Now that the car has stopped rattling, I can,” Dick replied.

“It’s the sand storm, isn’t it?” Dora leaned forward to ask.

“Yes.” Jerry glanced back, troubled. “There are two valley roads forking off just below here. One goes over toward the Chiricahua Mountains where our ranch is, the other toward Gleeson where we have to go to take the girls. Now what I want to say is this. Our road is clear, but the Gleeson road is in the path of the sand storm. Of course, if the wind should change, it might catch us, but I reckon our best chance is to race across the open valley to Bar N ranch. You girls would have to stay all night, but Mother’d like that powerful well. We could telephone to Gleeson so your dad wouldn’t worry.”

Mary, who had been listening with anxious eyes, now put in, “But, Jerry, wouldn’t that sand storm cut down the wires? I’d hate to have Dad anxious if there was any possible way of getting home – ”

“I have it,” Dick announced. “If, after we reach the ranch, we find we can’t communicate with your home, Jerry and I will ride over there on horseback. The sand storm will surely be blown away by then.” His questioning glance turned toward Jerry.

“Sure thing,” the cowboy replied. “Now, girls, hold tight! We’re going to drop down to the cross valley road. It’s smooth and hard and we’re going to beat the world’s record.”

CHAPTER XIV

“A.’S AND N. E.’S.”

The girls held tight as they had been commanded, their nerves taut and tense. Jerry’s prophecy that they might yet have another thrilling adventure and narrow escape filled them with a sort of startled expectancy. They could not see the forking valley roads until they had dropped down the last steep descent of the mountain and were almost upon them. Jerry unconsciously uttered an exclamation of relief. The road that went straight as a taut lariat across miles of flat, sandy waste was glistening in the late afternoon sun. The distant Chiricahua range, at the foot of which nestled the Newcomb ranch, was hung with a misty lilac haze. Peace seemed to pervade the scene and yet they could all four distinctly hear a dull ominous roar.

Before starting to “beat the world’s record,” Jerry stopped the car and listened. His desert-trained ear could surely discern the direction of the roaring sound. They were still too close to the mountain to see the desert on their right or left.

Turning to Dick, he asked, “Is there any water left in the canteen?”

“Yes,” the other boy replied, sensing the seriousness of the request, “about a gallon, I should say. It’s right here at our feet.”

“Good! Have the top loose so that you can drench our handkerchiefs at a split second’s notice. Have them ready, girls.”

“Why, Jerry,” Mary’s expression was one of excited animation, “do you expect the sand storm to overtake us?”

“No, I really don’t.” The cowboy was starting the engine again. “But it’s always wise to take precautions.” Then, addressing the small car, “Now, little old ‘tin Cayuse,’ show your stuff.”

The start was so sudden and so violent that Dora was thrown forward. Dick drew her back and they smiled at each other glowingly.

“Life is a jolly lark today, isn’t it, so full of a.’s and n. e.’s.”

“I suppose you mean adventures and narrow escapes.” Dora straightened her small hat that had been twisted awry. Then, as they sped away from the shelter of the grim, gray towering mountain, they all four looked quickly to the right and left. The desert lay dreaming in the sun. To the far south of them the air was full of a sinister yellow wall of flying sand and dust. It was surely headed in the opposite direction. Jerry did not doubt it and since he did not, the girls and Dick had no sense of fear. The ominous roaring sound had lessened, although, of course, they could hear little when that small car was speeding, its own squeaks and rattles having been increased.

Mary turned a face flushed with excitement and called back to Dora, “Ten miles! Only ten more to go.”

It was a perfect road, recently completed. There was almost no sand on it and very few dips.

Dick waved up toward a low circling vulture. “That fellow’s eyes are popping out in amazement, more than likely,” he shouted to Dora.

She laughed back, holding tight to her hat. “He probably thinks this is some new kind of a stampede.”

Again Mary’s pretty glowing face appeared in the opening back of the front seat. “Fifteen miles! Only five more to go.”

Dick’s expression became anxious. He said, close to Dora’s ear, “If Jerry feels so sure that the sand storm is headed toward Mexico, I don’t think he ought to race this little machine. He may know a lot more than I do about busting bronchos, but – ”

An explosion interrupted Dick’s remark, then the car zigzagged wildly from side to side. Jerry turned off the spark and the gas. Dick, without thought, leaped out onto the running board and put his weight over the wheel with the blow-out in its tire.

Almost miraculously the car stayed in the road. The girls had been wonderful. White and terrorized, yet neither had clutched at her companion, nor hindered his doing what was best for their safety.

When the car stopped, the front right tire was almost off the road. The girls, quivering with excitement, got out and exclaimed simultaneously, “Another adventure and narrow escape!”

Dick, knowing better than the girls how truly narrow their escape had been, stepped forward, his dark eyes serious, and extended a hand to the cowboy. “Jerry,” he said earnestly, “I won’t say again that I probably know more about managing cars than you do. If it hadn’t been for your quick thinking and skill, we would surely have turned turtle in the sand and if the spark had been on, the car might have gone up in flames.”

But Jerry would not accept the compliment. He shook his head as he removed his sombrero and wiped beads of moisture from his forehead. “Dick,” he said, “thanks just the same, but I reckon I was needlessly reckless. I wasn’t right sure about the sand storm, just at first, but later when I saw that it was heading south all right, I kept on speeding.”

Turning to the smaller girl who stood very still; seemingly calm, though her lips quivered when she tried to smile, the cowboy said contritely, “Little Sister, if you won’t stop trusting me, I’ll swear to never again take any such needless risks.”

Dora, watching the two, thought, “It matters such a terrible lot to Jerry what Mary thinks about him. Some day she’s going to wake up and realize that he loves her.”

Dick was removing his coat, and Jerry, evidently satisfied with Mary’s low-spoken reply, turned to get tools out from under the front seat.

Half an hour later the small car was again on its way. The sun was setting behind the mountains where so recently they had been.

Mary looked back at them. Grim and dark and forbidding they were, deep in shadow, but the peaks were aglow with flame color. The floor of the desert valley about them was like a sea of shimmering golden water; the ripples and dunes of sand were like glistening waves.

“Such a gloriousness!” Dora exclaimed, turning a radiant face toward her companion.

“I can see the color of it in your eyes,” the boy told her, and a sudden admiration in his own dark eyes caused Dora to think that Dick was really seeing her for the first time.

It was lilac dusk when the small car drove along the lane of cottonwood trees and stopped at one side of the Bar N ranch house.

Mrs. Newcomb’s round pleasant face looked out of a kitchen window, then her apron-covered person appeared in the open side door. Her arms were held out to welcome Mary.