Dick in the Desert

When the sand had whirled around them until the animals were buried nearly to their bellies, the riders forced the bunch onward ten or fifteen paces, continuing to make this change of location at least every five minutes during the entire time the tempest raged; and thus it was they escaped being buried in the downpour of sand.

From the time the first blast struck Dick, until the "dancing giants" whirled away to the westward, leaving the sky unclouded and the yellow sands shimmering in the sunlight, no more than thirty minutes had passed; yet in that short interval one human life on which others depended would have been sacrificed, unless these two travellers who were uninjured should chance to reach that exact spot where lay the boy partially covered by the desert's winding-sheet.

"You can talk of a gale at sea where the sailors are half drowned all the time; but it ain't a marker alongside of these 'ere red-hot blizzards, eh, Parsons?" one of the horsemen said as he threw off the blanket from his head with a long-drawn sigh of relief.

"Drownin' must be mighty pleasant kind of fun alongside of chokin' to death on account of bein' filled plum full with dry sand," Parsons replied. "I allow there ain't no call for us to stay here braggin' about our Nevada hurricanes, Tom Robinson, more especially since we'll make less headway now the sand has been stirred up a bit."

"There's nothin' to hold me here," Robinson replied with a laugh.

Straightway the two men turned their ponies' heads toward the west; and as they advanced the patient burros, laden with a miscellaneous assortment of goods until little else than their heads and tails could be seen, followed steadily in the rear.

Five minutes after they had resumed their journey Parsons cried, as he raised himself in the stirrups, shading his eyes with his hands as he peered ahead, —

"What's that 'ere bit of blue out there? Part of somebody's outfit? or was there a shipwreck close at hand?"

"It's a man – most likely a tenderfoot, if he tried to walk across this 'ere desert."

The two halted, and Dick Stevens's life was saved.

Had the storm lasted two or three minutes longer, or these prospectors gone in any other direction, he must have died where he had fallen.

Now he was dragged out from beneath the weight of sand, and laid upon a blanket, while the men, knowing by experience what should be done in such cases, set about restoring the boy to consciousness.

Thanks to the timely attention, Dick soon opened his eyes, stared around him for an instant in bewilderment, and then exclaimed as he made a vain attempt to rise, —

"I come pretty near knockin' under, didn't I? The last I remember was of fallin'."

"I allow it was the closest shave you'll ever have agin," Parsons replied grimly; "an' I'm free to say that them as are sich fools as to cross this 'ere sand-barren afoot oughter stay on it, like as you were in a fair way of doin' before we come along."

"An' that's what daddy would say, I s'pose. If he'd known what I was goin' to do, there would have been a stop put to it, even though it was to save his life I came."

"How can you save anybody's life by comin' out in sich a tom-fool way as this? Less than a quart of water, and not so much as a blanket with which to protect yourself."

"I can do it by goin' to Antelope Spring an' findin' a doctor," Dick replied. "You see, daddy shot himself in the leg – stove a bone all to pieces; and mother don't know what to do, so I slid off this mornin' without tellin' anybody."

"Countin' on footin' it to Antelope Spring?" Parsons asked as if in surprise.

"Yes; it ain't more'n forty-five miles the way we've reckoned it."

"Where did you start from?"

"Buffalo Meadows."

"And when did you count on makin' that forty-five miles?"

"I allowed to get there before midnight."

"Where's your camp?"

"Well, we haven't got anything you can rightly call a camp; but we're located in a prairie schooner near by the spring in the valley."

"How many in the party?"

"Daddy, mother, an' Margie."

The two men looked at Dick an instant, and then glanced at each other, after which Parsons said emphatically, —

"The boy has got grit; but the old man must have been way off to come through this section of the country in a wagon."

Dick explained how it was they chanced to be travelling, and then, eager to gain all the information possible, asked, —

"Do you know anything about Antelope Spring?"

"Nothin' good. There's a settlement by that name; but it's a no-account place."

"I s'pose I'll find a doctor?"

"I reckon they've got somethin' of the kind hangin' 'round. But are you countin' on draggin' one down to Buffalo Meadows?"

"I don't expect to be so lucky. But mother seemed to have the idea that if somebody who knew all about it would tell her how to take care of daddy's wound, she'd get along with such stuff as I could fetch to help him out in the fever. Say, I don't reckon either of you wants to buy a good rifle? There ain't a better one on Humboldt River;" and as he spoke Dick unslung the weapon which hung at his back.

"What's your idea in sellin' the gun? It strikes me, if you're countin' on pullin' through from Buffalo Meadows to Willow Point, you'll need it."

"Of course I shall; but it's got to go. You see, daddy's dead broke, an' I must have money to pay for the doctor's stuff. I don't s'pose you want it; but if you did, here's a good chance. If you don't buy I reckon there'll be some one up to Antelope Spring who'll take it off my hands."

"Haven't you got anything else you can put up, instead of lettin' the rifle go? In this section of the country a tool like that will stand a man good agin starvation."

"It's all I own that's worth anything, an' I'll be mighty sorry to lose it; but she's got to go."

Again the men looked at the boy, then at each other; and Parsons motioned for his companion to follow him a short distance away, where, to Dick's great surprise, they began an animated conversation.

CHAPTER IV.

AT ANTELOPE SPRING

Dick was perplexed by the behavior of these two strangers. He failed utterly to understand why they should have anything of such a private nature to discuss that it was necessary to move aside from him; for in a few moments they would be alone on the desert, after he had gone his way.

The discussion, or conversation, whichever it may have been, did not occupy many moments; but brief as was the time, Dick had turned to continue his journey at the instant when the men rejoined him.

"What do you allow you ought to get for that rifle?" Parsons asked abruptly.

"That's what I don't know. You see, I didn't buy it new, but traded for her before we left home. It seems to me she ought to be a bargain at – at – ten dollars."

"An' if you get the cash you're goin' to blow it right in for what the doctor can tell you, an' sich stuff as he thinks your old man ought to have eh?"

"That's what I'll do if it costs as much."

"S'posen it don't? Allow that you've got five dollars left, what then?"