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Page 26
Night enveloped the outfit suddenly, it seemed to them, and with
the cool of the evening their spirits rose. Even Ping's spirits
rose, until he forgot his aching thumb and broke into song.
The ground began to slope away under the hoofs of the horses, for
they were now moving down a sharp descent, and the air seemed to
take on a strange new quality, a new odor. No longer could the
girls hear the rustling of foliage. A great and impressive silence
settled over them, in which even the footfalls of the ponies were
soft and subdued. Glancing up, they saw the stars shining with a
brilliancy that none of the party had ever observed before.
The chatter of the Overland Riders died away, and Ping Wing's song
died away, also, in a throaty gurgle.
"What is it?" cried Emma Dean. "I feel queer, and my pony is
trembling. Oh, Grace, I'm afraid of something."
Grace knew what it was that was disturbing Emma, for she felt
something of the same sensation that Emma was experiencing, but
she made no reply.
"It is the desert!" answered the guide solemnly. "It is the
mystery of the desert, a mystery that no man can solve. Perhaps it
is the mystery of centuries; perhaps it is the spirits of the
thousands who have perished here on this sweet, cruel sea of
burning sand, that have come back to warn us living ones of the
fate that may be in store for us who dare."
"The mystery of the desert," murmured Grace Harlowe, but Hi Lang
spoke no more. His lips seemed sealed, though could they have seen
his face they would have observed a new and more tender expression
there, and seen him inhale in deep breaths, heavy draughts of the
faintly scented air of the desert that he both loved and hated.
CHAPTER VII
THE FIRST DESERT CAMP
"How far do we go to-night?" asked Grace, after a long silence,
during which the party moved steadily forward.
"Until we find a tank," was the brief reply uttered by Hi Lang.
"What's that he says?" questioned Hippy.
"Mr. Lang says that we must keep on going until we reach a tank,
whatever that may be," answered Grace. "Will you please explain,
Mr. Lang?"
"Tank is a water hole covered by a thin crust of alkali. Sometimes
the crust is there but the water isn't," the guide informed her.
"Do you know where to find one?" questioned Hippy.
"I know where one ought to be, but you can't most always tell.
Ought to reach this one about midnight. If we get water there we
will be all right. Go easy with your canteens, for if we shouldn't
find water you will need what you have."
"Mine is all gone now," spoke up Emma Dean. "May I have a drink of
yours, Grace? My throat is burning."
"One little swallow," admonished Grace, passing her canteen to
Emma. "You heard what the guide said."
"Yes, you'll wish you were a camel before you have done with this
journey," added Lieutenant Wingate.
Too weary to talk, Anne and Nora were nodding on their saddles,
but Elfreda was wide awake and alert, filled with a wonder that
was akin to awe at the vast mysteriousness of the desert night.
It was shortly after midnight when Hi Lang halted and sat
surveying his surroundings.
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