Chapter 8 CALLERS DROP IN

Heat waves were shimmering over the eastern horizon when the Overland girls awakened next morning. The guide had been up since daybreak fetching "bitter water," as the girls called it, and serving it to the ponies and burros.

"Whew!" exclaimed Elfreda. "This looks like a warm day."

"Regular Russian bath day," agreed Anne Nesbit.

"I fear we girls will not have any complexions left after this journey," added Nora Wingate. "I wonder if that husband of mine is still asleep?"

"Hippy is always sleeping-when he isn't awake or eating," declared Emma ambiguously, causing a laugh at her expense.

"You folks made a mistake that time," chuckled Hippy from the adjoining tent.

"Everybody makes mistakes. That's why they put erasers on lead pencils," retorted Emma quickly.

"Good night!" they heard Hippy Wingate mutter, after which he relapsed into silence, while a shout of laughter greeted Emma's sally.

"Come, girls, turn out," urged Grace. "We have a day ahead of us."

Breakfast was ready when they emerged from their tents, and this time they ate without complaining of the bitter taste of food and water.

The sun came up while they were at breakfast, lighting up the cheerless landscape and whitening the sands. The mountain range where they first camped had disappeared in the distance and they were alone in the burning silence. Ahead, here and there, ugly buttes lay baking in the morning heat, some showing a variety of dazzling colors, others a dull leaden gray.

"How far do we go to-day, Hi?" questioned Lieutenant Wingate.

"Until we find water," was the brief, but significant reply.

After breakfast, and while Ping, singing happily, was striking camp and packing the equipment on the burros, Mr. Lang and Hippy brought in and saddled the ponies, turning each one over to its rider as it was made ready; then the start was made. Hippy Wingate, the girls observed, held a small package under one arm, which he guarded so carefully that it aroused the curiosity of his companions, but Hippy merely grinned in response to their questioning.

As the sun rose higher the heat became well nigh unbearable to some of the party, and especially to Emma, if one were to judge by her bitter complaints. Emma declared that she never could live through it, and Grace began to have doubts herself with reference to her little friend.

As they progressed, the landscape grew more and more desolate and forbidding. Gaunt ravens soared staring over the wan plains, hairy tarantulas now and then hopped from the path of the ponies, and the "side-winder"-the deadly horned rattlesnake, which gets its name from its peculiar side-long motion as it crawls across the burning sands-squirmed out of the way, following snorts of fear from the ponies.

They halted at noon, for a rest and a light luncheon, near one of the barren buttes. Grace asked if it would not be possible to find a resting place on the butte where they might shade under a rock. Hi Lang shook his head.

"Too many snakes up there," he replied. "Dangerous!"

"Br-r-r-r-r!" shivered Emma.

The water carried in canvas receptacles on the burros was apportioned among the horses and burros, but there was only a small quantity left for each animal, not more than a quart apiece. This, however, was enough to take the keen edge from their thirst.

Following the resumption of the journey, Hippy carefully unwrapped his package, eager eyes observing the operation. The girls gasped when he threw the wrapping paper away and revealed a dainty blue silk parasol, which he raised and held over his head.

"Every man his own shade tree," chuckled Hippy. "If any of you ladies find you are being overcome by the desert heat, you are at liberty to ride in the shadow cast by my Christmas tree."

"You are very considerate. We thank you," answered Anne.

"Selfish!" rebuked Emma.

Hi Lang laughed silently, but made no comment. Neither heat nor hardship appeared to affect him unpleasantly. Hi, Grace observed, appeared always to be in a listening attitude, as if he were expecting something or some one. Grace asked him why he did so, but the guide merely smiled and rode on with head slightly tilted to one side, listening, listening!

Early in the afternoon the guide began looking for water, now and then dismounting to search about for a tank, breaking in crusts of alkali, putting an ear to the ground to listen for the murmur of an underground stream, or feeling with his hands over several yards of hot sand in search of a cool spot that might indicate water.

"Nothing doing yet," he announced. "There ought to be a tank about five miles further on."

However, they had journeyed on ten miles more before a promising spot was reached, and the guide and Hippy began to dig for the precious water that Hi said surely was somewhere below them.

They found it finally, but there was so little of it that he was not certain that they would get enough for their ponies. There was but little water left in the canteens, none at all in the bags, and it became necessary to find a supply sufficient for both ponies and riders.

"Every drop here is precious," warned the guide. "Be careful that you do not spill any."

Water was first carried to the ponies, small quantities being given to them as before, the girls assisting in the operation, and the supply was getting alarmingly low when Grace, returning from carrying a quart to Blackie, suddenly halted and gazed off across the desert.

A cloud of dust, that appeared to be approaching, had attracted her attention. The Overland girl wondered if it was a wind-squall, such as she had heard was quite common on the desert. After watching it for a few moments she decided to speak to the guide and call his attention to it.

"I see it. It's horses," said Elfreda, stepping up beside Grace.

"Do you think so?"

"I know it is."

"Then your eyes are better than mine," answered Grace. "I suppose it is some party headed for Elk Run. Mr. Lang!" she called.

"What is it?" demanded Hippy, who was standing over the hole in which the guide was working.

"A party of horsemen coming this way, sir!"

"You don't say! That's right, Hi," said Hippy, speaking to Mr.

Lang. "Quite a bunch of them, too, I should say."

The guide's head appeared above the rim of the water hole and he gazed searchingly at the oncoming alkali cloud.

"Bunch of cowboys or wild horse hunters," he observed. "Anyway, we've got first claim on the water." Hi returned to his work and Hippy resumed passing water to the girls, but kept the approaching horsemen under observation, as did also Grace Harlowe.

"Those fellows are kicking up an awful lot of dust, it seems to me," observed Nora Wingate.

"Yes, I hope they slow down before passing us," answered Anne. "I have swallowed about all the dust to-day that I can digest."

Emma Dean, not to be outdone, declared that she too had swallowed a lot of dust-so much of it that a good wind would blow her away and sift her over the desert.

"You surely would be the plaything of the winds in that event," murmured Anne.

"They are heading directly for the camp," Hippy was saying to Hi Lang, but the guide gave no heed. He wished to get all the water out of the tank that he possibly could before the party reached them, knowing very well that they, the newcomers, would also want water.

A few moments later the desert riders galloped up on foaming ponies. They were not a prepossessing looking lot, and the eight men of the party carried rifles in their saddle boots and revolvers on their hips.

"Water!" shouted the one who appeared to be the leader.

"Here's water, old top, but pass it around. We haven't much, of the alkali beverage on hand this evening." Hippy handed up a partially filled bucket to one man and another to the rest until each man had been supplied.

"I'll take the buckets now," announced Hippy.

"Hey, you! Where you all headed for?" demanded Hi, straightening up and surveying the newcomers narrowly.

"Reckon we might ask the same question of you. Who's them gals?" questioned the leader.

"That is none of your business who they or we are!" retorted Hippy

Wingate sternly.

"Say, you fellow! Looking for trouble?!" demanded Hi in an even voice.

"Pass that bucket to me!" commanded Hippy.

"Ye want thet bucket, hey?" leered the desert rider. Then, quick as a flash he emptied the contents of it over Lieutenant Wingate's head.

"Get ready for trouble," ordered Grace Harlowe sharply to Elfreda Briggs, at the same time raising her right hand above her head, a signal that Emma, Anne and Nora understood. It was the Overland Riders' signal of distress and meant that all hands should instantly prepare to defend themselves.

All the girls expected to see Hippy's revolver out of its holster after that insult. Instead, the desert rider was violently yanked from his saddle and stood on his head in the sand. So quick had Lieutenant Wingate been in unhorsing the man that the ugly visitor had not even time to draw his weapon.

Up to this juncture, Hi Lang had remained in the water hole, industriously dipping up water, at the same time keeping a wary eye on the progress of affairs above. He did not think best to take a hand until hostilities actually began, knowing that were he to spring out and draw his weapon, the desert riders would shoot before his revolver was out of its holster.

Peering out cautiously he saw that every man of the desert riders was resting a careless hand on the butt of his revolver. At the same time Hi observed something else in the opposite direction. Grace Harlowe and Elfreda Briggs had stepped up close to the water hole and each was standing with a hand on her hip.

The situation was resting on a hair trigger, and, even in the tenseness of the moment, Hi Lang found himself keenly interested in what he saw-the Overland Riders in action.

The leader of the newcomers sprang to his feet raging. Hippy Wingate, now close to the man, pushed the flat of his hand against the fellow's face.

"Get off my desert, you imitation rough-neck," invited Hippy sweetly. In the same breath he added in a savage tone: "Keep your hand away from that gun!" emphasizing his command by thrusting the muzzle of his own revolver against the desert rider's stomach.

The visitor's back was toward his companions, so that they did not get the full import of what was taking place, but they looked their amazement when they saw their leader turn his back on Hippy. They did not know that he was doing this in obedience to Lieutenant Wingate's order, nor that the leader's revolver at that moment was in Hippy's hand, Hippy having slipped it from its holster while still pressing his own weapon against the man who had ducked him.

"I told you to get off my desert," said Hippy, incisively. "I've changed my mind. I'm going to kick you off!"

Lieutenant Wingate retreated a step, sprang clear of the ground, and with a kick that had sent many a ball over the goal, he kicked the desert leader into the water hole. Hi Lang was not so considerate. As the fellow scrambled to his feet, Hi laid him flat on his back with a blow between the eyes that instantly put the fellow to sleep.

The battle between the two parties of desert travelers was on in a second.