Grace Harlowes Overland Riders on the Great American Desert | Page 3

By the way, when does Tom leave for Oregon?"
"To-night. I wish it were possible for him to go with us, knowing that it
would prove an interesting experience for him, but now that he is out of
the army he feels that he must get to work without loss of time. Tom
now has a large family to look after-- Yvonne and my own little self."
"I should say that, after fighting Bolshevists in Russia for the better part
of a year, the desert would be a rather tame experience for him,"
observed Miss Briggs. "Of course he cannot be blamed for desiring to
get to work. I feel the same way about myself, but since my return from
France my law practice has been about what it was while I was serving
my country on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean--nothing at all--so I
might as well be on the desert as in my office."
"Your practice will come back, Elfreda. Don't worry, but in the
meantime try to have the best kind of a time and set what happens this
fall. I hear Tom's step."
A knock followed the brisk step in the hallway, and Grace's husband
entered. Elfreda rose, but Grace held out a hand as a signal that her
friend was not to leave.
"Well, Tom dear, did you find him?" questioned Grace.
"Oh, yes. This town isn't so large that one can well miss finding any
one. Your man, Hi Lang, is getting the ponies into the corral and you
girls are to go out there and make your selections."
"Did Mr. Lang say why he had not called here to see us?" asked Grace.
"No, he didn't say much of anything. He is not of the saying kind. I
suppose he expected you to look him up. Besides, he is very busy
getting ready for you, I could see that. If you are ready we will go over
to the corral now."

"Where did you leave Hippy?" asked Miss Briggs.
"Talking horse with the owner of the ponies," Grace's husband
informed her, whereat both girls smiled understandingly, knowing quite
well that Hippy Wingate was posing as an expert on horses, whereas
about all the knowledge he possessed in that direction had been gained
from the ride over the Apache Trail during the previous summer.
Tom led the two girls to the corral at the extreme edge of the little
western village. Anne, Emma and Nora already had found their way
there and were watching the wranglers, as the men who catch up the
ponies are called, roping broncos and leading them out for the
inspection of Lieutenant Wingate and the guide.
"My, but they are a lively bunch," exclaimed Miss Briggs.
The roped ponies were bucking and squealing and biting and kicking.
A suffocating gray cloud of alkali dust hung over the corral, and,
altogether, the scene was not only exciting, but it stirred feelings of
alarm in some of Grace Harlowe's Overland Riders.
"Surely, Grace, you girls aren't going to ride those wild animals!"
protested Tom Gray.
"Judging from the performances I have just witnessed, I am inclined to
think we are not," replied Grace whimsically. "Which is Mr. Lang?"
"The man with his hat off leading the pony from the corral."
Tom beckoned to the man who was to guide the Overlanders across the
desert, and, as soon as he had turned the protesting bronco over to a
cowboy, the guide responded to Tom Gray's summons.
"Lang, this is Mrs. Gray and Miss Briggs," said Tom by way of
introduction.
"Reckon I'm mighty glad to know you all," greeted the guide, mopping
the perspiration from his forehead with his sleeve.

Hi Lang interested Grace at once. Of medium height, thin-featured,
with a complexion that reminded her of wrinkled parchment, eyes that,
though intelligent and alert, frequently took on a dreamy, far-away
expression, Hiram Lang proved a new type of westerner to Grace
Harlowe.
"Got your telegram that you reckoned on starting to-day," he told her.
"Yes. Of course we do not wish to hurry you, but we are eager to get on
our way. What about the supplies and equipment! Have you ordered
everything that I suggested?"
The guide nodded.
"The stuff already has gone on ahead in charge of Ping Wing--"
"Who?" laughed Elfreda Briggs.
"Ping Wing, a Chinaman, with four lazy burros. Good man. Can cook,
too. Been on the desert before. Lively as a cricket. Only trouble with
Ping is that he thinks he can sing. Ride and shoot?" he demanded,
abruptly changing the subject.
"I am not much of a rider, but manage to stick to the saddle most of the
time," answered Grace. "I shoot a little. We are all novices, with the
exception of Lieutenant Wingate