Grace Harlowes Overland Riders on the Great American Desert | Page 8

Miss
Briggs.
"I mean the faint. What will these men think of me!"
"I reckon if you'll give them a chance they'll tell you what they think,"
interjected Hi Lang. "Bud, come here," he called, beckoning to one of
the wranglers. "This little lady wants to know what you fellows think of
a woman who rides a horse and then faints away. Tell her."
Bud stepped up, flushing painfully under his tan, awkwardly fumbling
his hat.
"Ah--Ah reckon they think thet you're 'bout the gamest little sport thet
ever hit the leather," declared Bud. "Any feller thet sez you ain't, is a
liar and a hoss thief!" Bud glared about him as if challenging some one
to take up his defi.
Grace laughed so merrily that, for the moment, she forgot that she was
supposed to be in a fainting condition. Getting up rather unsteadily, she
offered her hand to the cowboy, who, in his embarrassment, instantly
dropped his bravado and half held out a limp paw for Grace to shake.
"Them's our sentiments. We double cinch what Bud jest articulated,
Lady," called a cowboy voice.
"Thank you, Bud. Thank you all, fellows. It is much higher praise than
I deserve," she replied, smiling and waving a hand to the group.
"Where do you all reckon on goin', Miss?" questioned another of the

men.
Grace told him that they had planned to cross the American Desert.
"And maybe we're going to look for a lost gold mine or a diamond
mine or an iron mine down in the Specter Range, or something equally
exciting," added Hippy Wingate.
"Reckon there ain't no such animal in these here parts," drawled Bud.
"If you all need help any old time, Ah reckon you all know where to
come for it, Lady," he added.
Grace thanked him and said she would remember.
"You are not thinking of riding that black bronco, are you!" questioned
Tom Gray. "What's the next move?"
"Yes, to your first question. We expect to make our start this afternoon,
unless Mr. Lang advises to the contrary. What do you say, Mr. Lang?"
"I reckoned that, after what you've been through, you'd be wishing to
lay up for the rest of the day," replied the guide.
"That would be the sensible course to follow," agreed Grace's husband.
"No. No change of plans is necessary so far as I am concerned," she
replied. "Mr. Lang, will you please ask one of the boys to groom
Blackie--that is what I shall call my pony--and not to be cross with him?
I do not wish the little fellow stirred up. I have him temporarily under
control, and am certain that after I have ridden him for a day he will be
as manageable as the rest of them. Where shall we meet you, Mr.
Lang?"
"Eight here at the corral. Three o'clock." Hi turned his back on them
and walked away to give Grace's directions about the bronco to one of
the wranglers.
"I am going back to the hotel to lie down for an hour," announced
Grace. "Tom, you may go out and do a little shopping for me while I

am resting. Girls," she said, turning to her companions, "I would
suggest that all of yon turn in for a beauty sleep. You will need it, for
we shall have a hot, dusty ride between here and the mountains, which
we shall not reach until some time this evening. If you have any further
purchases to make at the general store, you had better make them now,
or let Tom do it for you. We must be on time at the corral. Mr. Lang
probably has timed our departure to fit certain plans of his own."
The girls said they had completed their purchases, and shortly after that
all were sound asleep, fortifying themselves for the experiences before
them, experiences that were destined to be the most strenuous that they
had ever met with, outside of the battle front in France.
CHAPTER III
A THRILLING MOMENT
"We are ready, Mr. Lang," greeted Grace Harlowe as she and her party
came up to the corral where the guide was supervising the saddling of
the ponies for the outfit.
The girls now wore the overseas uniforms that they had worn in their
ride over the Old Apache Trail. In addition, a red bandana handkerchief
was twisted about the neck of each Overland Rider, in true western
style, to keep the alkali dust from sifting down their necks.
All the equipment except mess kits and emergency rations, and a
canteen of water for each, had been sent forward on the burros in
charge of the Chinaman, Ping Wing, whom the Overland girls had not
yet met.
"How is Blackie behaving at present, Mr. Lang?" questioned Grace,
stepping