The Border Boys Across the Frontier | Page 6

compass, they set out once more,
this time taking the direction indicated by the man of science.
"Suppose the professor is wrong?" Ralph whispered to Jack, as they
urged their almost exhausted cayuses onward.
Jack shrugged his shoulders.
"What's the use of supposing?" he said.
It was sun-down, and a welcome coolness had begun to be noticeable in
the air, when Jack gave a shout and pointed directly ahead of them.
"Look, look!" he cried. "What's that?"
"That" was only a small purplish speck on the far horizon, but it broke
the monotony of the sky-line sharply. Coyote Pete scrutinized it with
keen eyes for a moment, narrowing his optics till they were mere slits.
Then--
"Give me the glasses, perfusser," he requested. Every one in the party
knew that their lives, or deaths probably, hung on the verdict of the
next few seconds, but Pete's slow drawl was more pronounced and
unperturbed than ever. He put the glasses to his eyes as unconcernedly
as if he were searching for a bunch of estrays. Presently he lowered
them.
"Is--is it----?" began Jack, while the others all bent forward in their
saddles, hanging on the rejoinder.
"It is," declared Pete, and he might have said more, but the rest of his
words were drowned in a ringing cheer.

CHAPTER III.
A NIGHT ALARM.
"How far distant do you imagine it is?" inquired the professor, as they
rode forward with their drooping spirits considerably revived.
"Not more than fifteen miles--if it is that, 'cording ter my calcerlations,"
decided Pete.
"Then we should arrive there by ten o'clock to-night."
"About that time--yep. That is, if none of ther stock give out
beforehand."
"Why do they call it the Haunted Mesa?" inquired Jack.
"Some fool old Injun notion 'bout ghosts er spirits hauntin' it," rejoined
Pete.
"Just as well for us they have that idea," said Walt. "They'll give it a
wide berth."
It flashed across Jack's mind at that moment to tell about the vague,
gigantic shapes he had seen flit by in the gloom of the sand-storm. But,
viewed in the present light, it seemed so absurd that the boy hesitated to
do so.
"Maybe I was mistaken after all," he thought to himself. "There was so
much sand blowing at the time that I might very well have had a
blurred vision."
The next minute he was doubly glad that he had refrained from telling
of his weird experience, for the professor, in a scornful voice, spoke up.
"Such foolish superstitions did exist in the ancient days, when every
bush held a spirit and every rock was supposed to be endowed with
sentient life. Happily, nowadays, none but the very ignorant credit such

things. By educated people they are laughed at."
Pete, who was jogging steadily on ahead of the rest of them, made no
rejoinder. Ralph, however, spoke up.
"What would you do, if you were to see a spirit, professor?" he inquired,
with an expression of great innocence in his round, plump face.
"I'd take after it with a good thick stick," was the ready reply. "That is,
always supposing that one could see such a thing."
Darkness fell rapidly. Night, in fact, rushed down on them as soon
almost as the sun sank behind the western rim of the desert. To the
south some jagged sierras grew purple and then black in the fading
light. Fortunately there was a moon, though the luminary of night was
in her last quarter. However, the silvery light added to the brilliance of
the desert stars, gave them all the radiance they needed to pursue their
way.
The travelers could now perceive the outlines of the Haunted Mesa
more clearly. It reared itself strangely out of the surrounding solitudes,
almost as if it were the work of human hands, instead of the result of
long-spent geological forces.
"Wish we were there now," breathed Ralph, patting his pony's sweating
forequarters, "poor old Petticoats is about 'all in.'"
"It's purty hard to kill a cayuse," rejoined Pete. "I've seen 'em flourish
on cottonwood leaves and alkali water--yep, and git fat on it, too. Be
like a cayuse, my son, and adapt yourself to carcumstances."
"Very good advice," said the professor approvingly, as the desert
philosopher concluded.
As Pete had conjectured, the ponies were far from being as tuckered out
as they appeared, despite their sunken flanks and distended nostrils. As
the cool night drew on, and they approached more nearly to the
upraised form of the mesa, the little animals even began to prick their

ears and whinny softly. The pack animals, too, seemed to pluck up
spirits amazingly.
"They smell grass and water," commented Pete, as he observed these
signs.
Shortly after ten, as had been surmised, they were among the
bunch-grass surrounding the mesa. Striking