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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?"
"I'll buy flour, an' bacon, an' somethin' for mother an' Margie with the balance."
"Do you mean to tell me your father was sich a tenderfoot as to come down through this way without any outfit?" Robinson asked sternly.
"He had plenty at the time we started; but you see we struck bad luck all the way along, and when we pulled into Buffalo Meadows we had cooked the last pound of flour. There wasn't even a bit of meat in the camp when he got shot. I knocked over a deer last night, an' that will keep 'em goin' till I get back."
"An' a kid like you is supportin' a family, eh?" Parsons asked in a kindly tone.
"I don't know what kind of a fist I'm goin' to make of it; but that's what I'll try to do till daddy gets on his feet again. Say, how long do you s'pose it'll take a man to get well when one leg is knocked endways with a bullet plum through the bone of it?"
"It'll be quite a bit, I'm thinkin' – too long for you to stay in Buffalo Meadows at this time of the year. Two months ought to do it, eh, Parsons?"
"Well, yes; he won't get 'round any quicker than that."
"I don't know as it makes much difference if he can't walk a great deal, 'cause after the horses have had plenty of grass for a couple of weeks we'll pull across this place; an' once on the other side I sha'n't worry but what I can take 'em through all right."
"Look here, my son," Robinson said, as he laid his hand on the lad's shoulder. "You've got plenty of sand, that's a fact. I allow there ain't a kid within a thousand miles of here that would tackle the contract you've taken this mornin'. If we wasn't bound to the Winnemucca Range, an it wasn't quite so late in the season, we'd help you out by goin' down to camp an' straightenin' things a bit; but it can't be done now. We'll buy your rifle though, an' that's what we've agreed on. Ten dollars ain't sich a big pile for the gun; but yet it's plenty enough – leastways, it's all we can afford to put out just now."
"I'll be mighty glad to sell it for that if you need a rifle; an' it'll be better to make the trade now than wait till I get into Antelope Spring, 'cause there's no dead certainty I'll find anybody there who'll buy it."
Parsons took from a buckskin bag a small roll of bills, and when he had counted out ten dollars there was but little of the original amount remaining.
He handed the money to Dick; and the latter, after the briefest hesitation, held the rifle toward him.
"Sorry to give it up, eh?" Robinson asked.
"Well, I ain't when it comes to gettin' the money for daddy; if it wasn't for that I'd be. You see, it's the first one I ever owned, an' the way things look now, it'll be a good while before I get another."
"I'll tell you how we'll fix it, son. My partner an' I ain't needin' an extra rifle just now; an' more than as likely as not – in fact, I may say it's certain – we'll be up 'round your way before the winter fairly sets in. Now, if you could keep it for us till then, it would be the biggest kind of a favor, 'cause you see we're prospecting an' have got about all the load the burros can tackle."
"You're – you're – sure you want to buy this gun, eh?"
"Well, if we wasn't, there wouldn't have been much sense in makin' the talk."
"But if you're prospectors, there isn't any show of your gettin' 'round to Willow Point."
"Oh, we drift up an' down, here an' there, just as the case may be. There ain't any question about our trailin' all over the State in time, and you shall keep the rifle in good shape till we call for it. So long, my son. It's time for you to be hoofin' it, if you count on gettin' to Antelope Spring this side of to-morrow mornin'."
As he spoke, Parsons mounted his pony, Robinson following the example; and in another moment the two were on their way once more, leaving Dick in a painful state of uncertainty regarding their purpose in purchasing the gun.
During two or three minutes the boy stood where they had left him, and then cried, —
"Hello there! Hold on a minute, will you?"
"What's the matter now?" and Parsons looked over his shoulder, but neither he nor his partner reined in their steeds.
"Are you buyin' this rifle? or are you makin' believe so's to give me the ten dollars?"
"S'posen we was makin' believe?"
"Why then I wouldn't take the money, 'cause I ain't out begging."
"Don't fret yourself, my son. We've bought the gun all right; an' the next time we meet, you can hand it over. I wish our pile had been bigger so's we could have given twenty, 'cause a kid like you deserves it."
The horsemen continued on, and by this time were so far away that Dick would have been unwise had he attempted to overtake them.
He stood irresolutely an instant as if doubtful of the genuineness of this alleged business transaction.
It was as if the men feared he might attempt to overtake them; for despite the heavy loads on the burros they urged the beasts forward at their best pace, and Dick was still revolving the matter in his mind when they were a mile or more away.
"Well, it's no use for me to stand here tryin' to figure out whether they've given me this money or really mean to buy the rifle, for I've got to strike Antelope Spring between this time an' midnight. Now that there are ten dollars in my pocket, I'll be a pretty poor stick if I don't do it; but the sand-storm came mighty near windin' me up. It was the toughest thing I ever saw."
Then Dick set forward once more, toiling over the loose surface into which his feet sank three or four inches at every step; and when he finally stood on the firm soil east of this waste of shifting sand, it was two hours past noon.
As he had reckoned, there were more than thirty miles yet to be traversed; but the distance troubled him little.
He had in his possession that which would buy such knowledge and such drugs as his father might need, and he believed it would be almost a sin to rebel even in his thoughts against the labor which must be performed.
Now he advanced, whistling cheerily, with a long stride and a swinging gait that should have carried him over the trail at the rate of four miles an hour; and not until late in the afternoon did he permit himself to halt, and partake of the broiled venison.
Then he ate every morsel, and, the meal finished, said aloud with a low laugh of perfect content: —
"It's lucky I didn't bring any more; for I should eat it to a dead certainty, an' then I wouldn't be in as good trim for walkin'. Daddy always says that the less a fellow has in his stomach the easier he can get over the ground, and the poor old man never struck it truer."
After this halt of fifteen minutes Dick pressed forward without more delay until he came upon the settlement, at what time he knew not, but to the best of his belief it was hardly more than an hour past midnight.
There was no thought in his mind of spending any portion of the money for a bed.
The earth offered such a resting-place as satisfied him; and since the day his father departed from Willow Point in the hope of finding a location where he could earn a livelihood with but little labor, Dick had more often slept upon the ground than elsewhere.
Now he threw himself down by the side of a storehouse, or shed, where he would be protected from the night wind; and there was hardly more than time to compose himself for rest before his eyes were closed in slumber.
No person in Antelope Spring was awake at an earlier hour next morning than Dick Stevens; for the sun had not yet shown himself when the boy arose to his feet, and looked around as if to say that he was in fine condition.
"A tramp of forty-five miles ain't to be sneezed at, an' when you throw in fifteen miles of desert an' a sand-storm to boot, it's what I call a pretty good day's work; yet I'm feelin' fine as a fiddle," he said in a tone of satisfaction, after which he made an apology for a toilet at the stream near-by.
Dick had no idea in which direction a physician might be found; therefore he halted in front of the first store he saw to wait until the proprietor came, half an hour later, to attend to customers.
It was such a shop as one would naturally expect to find in a settlement among the mountains of Nevada.
From molasses to perfumery, and from ploughs to fish-hooks, the assortment ran, until one would say all his wants might be supplied from the stock.
Cheese was what Dick had decided upon for his morning meal; and after purchasing two pounds, together with such an amount of crackers as he thought would be necessary, he set about eating breakfast at the same time that he gained the desired information.
"I've come from the other side of Smoke Creek Desert," he began, speaking indistinctly because of the fulness of his mouth, "an' want to find a doctor."
"Ain't sick, are yer?" the shopkeeper asked with mild curiosity.
"Daddy shot himself in the leg, an' mother don't know what to do for him; so I've come up to hire a doctor to tell me, an' buy whatever he says is needed."
"A kid like you come across the desert! Where's your pony?"
"I haven't got any. Daddy's horses are so nearly played out that they've got to be left to grass two or three weeks, if we count on doin' anything with 'em."
"Did you walk across?" the shopkeeper asked incredulously.
"That's what I did;" and Dick told of his sufferings during the sand-storm, not in a boastful way, but as if it were his purpose to give the prospectors the praise they deserved.
When he had concluded, the proprietor plunged his hands deep in his pockets, surveyed the boy from head to foot much as Parsons and Robinson had, saying not a word until Dick's face reddened under the close scrutiny, when he exclaimed, —
"Well, I'll be jiggered! A kid of your size – say, how old are you, bub?"
"Thirteen."
"Well, a baby of thirteen lightin' out across Smoke Creek Desert, an' all for the sake of helpin' your dad, eh? Do you reckon you can bite out of Dr. Manter's ear all you want to know, an' then go back an' run the business?"
"It seems as if he ought to tell me what mother needs to do, an' I can remember every word. Then she said there would have to be some medicine to stop the fever; an' that's what I'm countin' on buyin', if he gives me the name of it."
"When are you goin' back?"
"I'm in hopes to get away this noon, an' then I'll be in camp by to-morrow mornin'."
"Say, sonny, do you want to stuff me with the yarn that you've travelled forty-five miles in less'n thirty-six hours, an' count on doin' the same thing right over agin, which is ninety miles in less'n three days?"
"I've done the first half of the journey, an' it couldn't have been more'n two hours past midnight when I got here. With such a lay-out as this for breakfast I'll be in good shape for goin' back; an' it would be a mighty poor boy who couldn't get there between this noon an' to-morrow mornin', 'cause I'll go across the desert after dark, an' it ain't likely there'll be another sand-storm."