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<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN">
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<title>Grace Harlowe's Overland Riders on the Great American
Desert</title>
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<h1>Grace Harlowe's Overland Riders on the Great American Desert</h1>
<h4>by</h4>
<h1>Jessie Graham Flower</h1>
<hr align="center" width="50%">
<ul>
<li><a href="#1_0_2">CHAPTER I. WHEN THE COWBOYS LAUGHED</a></li>
<li><a href="#1_0_3">CHAPTER II. AN "OUTLAW" MEETS HIS MATCH</a></li>
<li><a href="#1_0_4">CHAPTER III. A THRILLING MOMENT</a></li>
<li><a href="#1_0_5">CHAPTER IV. PING WING MAKES A DISCOVERY</a></li>
<li><a href="#1_0_6">CHAPTER V. STALKING A MOUNTAIN MYSTERY</a></li>
<li><a href="#1_0_7">CHAPTER VI. INTO THE GRBAT SILENCE</a></li>
<li><a href="#1_0_8">CHAPTER VII. THE FIRST DESERT CAMP</a></li>
<li><a href="#1_0_9">CHAPTER VIII. CALLERS DROP IN</a></li>
<li><a href="#1_0_10">CHAPTER IX. PIRATES GET A HOT RECEPTION</a></li>
<li><a href="#1_0_11">CHAPTER X. WHEN THE BLOW FELL</a></li>
<li><a href="#1_0_12">CHAPTER XI. FACING A NEW PERIL</a></li>
<li><a href="#1_0_13">CHAPTER XII. A BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT</a></li>
<li><a href="#1_0_14">CHAPTER XIII. A STARTLING ALARM</a></li>
<li><a href="#1_0_15">CHAPTER XIV. THE MYSTERIOUS HORSEMAN</a></li>
<li><a href="#1_0_16">CHAPTER XV. THE GUIDE READS A DESERT TRAIL</a></li>
<li><a href="#1_0_17">CHAPTER XVI. THE CROSS ON THE DESERT</a></li>
<li><a href="#1_0_18">CHAPTER XVII. ANOTHER MYSTERY TO SOLVE</a></li>
<li><a href="#1_0_19">CHAPTER XVIII. AN OLD INDIAN TRICK</a></li>
<li><a href="#1_0_20">CHAPTER XIX. THE WARNING</a></li>
<li><a href="#1_0_21">CHAPTER XX. CONCLUSION</a></li>
</ul>
<h3 align="CENTER"><a name="1_0_2">CHAPTER I. WHEN THE COWBOYS
LAUGHED</a></h3>
<p>"Grace Harlowe, do you realize what an indulgent husband you have?"
demanded Elfreda Briggs severely.</p>
<p>"Why, of course I do," replied Grace, giving her companion a quick
glance of inquiry. "Why this sudden realization of the fact on your
part!"</p>
<p>"I was thinking of the really desperate journey we are about to
undertake—the journey across the desert that lies just beyond the
Cactus Range you can see over yonder," answered Miss Briggs, as she gazed
out through the open window of their hotel at Elk Run, to the distant
landscape to which she had referred. "What I am curious about is how Tom
ever came to consent to your attempting such an adventure."</p>
<p>"I presume he really would have made serious objection had it not been
for the fact that he had signed up for that forestry contract in Oregon.
Tom knew that I would have a lonely summer at home, and, I believe, deep
down in his heart, felt that were he to deny me the pleasure of this
trip, I might break my neck driving my car. You see, since I drove an
ambulance in France I do not exactly creep along the roads with my
spirited little roadster."</p>
<p>"He did not object to the trip then?"</p>
<p>"Well, he did threaten to balk when I told him that we Overlanders had
planned to ride horseback across the Great American Desert, starting from
Elk Run, Nevada. However, he listened to reason. Tom is such a dear,"
reflected Grace.</p>
<p>"Yes, reason in the form of Grace Harlowe Gray," nodded Elfreda
understandingly. "Should I ever have the misfortune to possess a husband
I hope he may be as amenable to reason. Where is Tom, by the way?"</p>
<p>"He has gone out with Hippy Wingate to look for one Hiram Lang, known
hereabouts as Hi Lang, the man who is to act as our guide and protector
across the desert. He is Mr. Fairweather's cousin, you will recall, and
my one great hope is that he may prove to be as fine a character as the
man who piloted us over the Old Apache Trail last summer."</p>
<p>"I sincerely hope, for our sake, that he knows his business," nodded
Elfreda Briggs.</p>
<p>"Where did you leave the girls?" questioned Grace.</p>
<p>"I left Emma Dean, Anne Nesbit and Nora Wingate at the general store
where they were selecting picture cards of wild west scenes to send to
the folks back home. By the way, when does Tom leave for Oregon?"</p>
<p>"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."</p>
<p>"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."</p>
<p>"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."</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>"Well, Tom dear, did you find him?" questioned Grace.</p>
<p>"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."</p>
<p>"Did Mr. Lang say why he had not called here to see us?" asked
Grace.</p>
<p>"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."</p>
<p>"Where did you leave Hippy?" asked Miss Briggs.</p>
<p>"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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>"My, but they are a lively bunch," exclaimed Miss Briggs.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>"Surely, Grace, you girls aren't going to ride those wild animals!"
protested Tom Gray.</p>
<p>"Judging from the performances I have just witnessed, I am inclined to
think we are not," replied Grace whimsically. "Which is Mr. Lang?"</p>
<p>"The man with his hat off leading the pony from the corral."</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>"Lang, this is Mrs. Gray and Miss Briggs," said Tom by way of
introduction.</p>
<p>"Reckon I'm mighty glad to know you all," greeted the guide, mopping
the perspiration from his forehead with his sleeve.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>"Got your telegram that you reckoned on starting to-day," he told
her.</p>
<p>"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?"</p>
<p>The guide nodded.</p>
<p>"The stuff already has gone on ahead in charge of Ping
Wing—"</p>
<p>"Who?" laughed Elfreda Briggs.</p>
<p>"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.</p>
<p>"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 who is an excellent shot. The
lieutenant was a fighting aviator in the war."</p>
<p>Hi nodded and stroked his chin.</p>
<p>"Reckoned you could ride some. When we get out on the desert I'll see
how you can shoot. When do you think you want to start?"</p>
<p>"I will leave that to you," replied Grace.</p>
<p>"Three o'clock this afternoon. We'll make the range where Ping will be
waiting for us, and have chow there, then go on in the cool of the
evening. Want to look over the broncos?"</p>
<p>"If you please. I should like to try the ponies that we are to
ride."</p>
<p>"Do—do they always kick and buck as we saw them do just now?"
questioned Miss Briggs apprehensively.</p>
<p>The guide shook his head and grinned.</p>
<p>"They don't like to be roped, that's all. No bronco does. They'll be
as all right as a bronc' can be, so long as you don't use the spur or get
the critters stubborn."</p>
<p>"If you say they are perfectly safe for my friends to ride, I am
satisfied, though I should like to try them out. Hippy, have you ridden
any of these animals?" asked Grace, turning to Lieutenant Wingate.</p>
<p>"He tried to," observed Tom Gray dryly. "Hippy mounted one on one side
and promptly fell off on the other before getting his feet in the
stirrups. It was not the pony's fault, however, but Hippy's clumsiness
that caused the disaster."</p>
<p>"That's right, have all the fun at my expense you wish. I am the
comedian of this outfit anyway," protested Hippy. "Let's see you ride one
of them, Brown Eyes," he urged, speaking to Grace.</p>
<p>"Please have them saddled one by one and I will try them, Mr. Lang,"
directed Grace. "Any pony that I can ride, the others surely can."</p>
<p>The guide nodded and turned away. Grace watched the saddling with keen
interest, especially the saddling of the first pony selected for her,
which squealed and pawed and danced as the cinch-girth was being
tightened.</p>
<p>"Vicious!" objected Elfreda Briggs.</p>
<p>"No," answered Grace. "Just playful. If the others are no worse, we
shall have a good bunch of horses."</p>
<p>The saddle being secured, Grace stepped up and petted the little
animal for a few moments, then mounted. The pony danced under her, then,
at a word, galloped off. The Overland girl rode but a short distance,
and, turning back, trotted up to the group smilingly.</p>
<p>"Spirited but sweet," was her comment as she dismounted. "He will be
all right if he is used right. Try him, Elfreda. I know you will like
him."</p>
<p>Miss Briggs took her test without falling off, and promptly claimed
the little brown animal as her own private mount.</p>
<p>"You made a most excellent selection, Mr. Lang," complimented Grace,
after she had tried the ponies for the rest of the girls and found them
suitable. Each girl also tried out and selected her own mount from those
that Grace had approved, the cowboys and half the village being
interested spectators. Grace was pleased, both with the ponies and with
the riding of her girl friends. Not the least of those who were pleased
was Hi Lang, who, before the coming of the outfit, had felt considerable
doubt as to the success of the proposed jaunt. Now he knew that the
Overland Riders were not rank greenhorns, as he expressed it to
himself.</p>
<p>"Which animal did you think of selecting for me!" asked Grace
smilingly.</p>
<p>"Reckoned you'd do that for yourself," answered the guide.</p>
<p>"Thank you. Please have that black roped and brought out. He is the
one I think will please me," replied Grace promptly.</p>
<p>"What, that black bronc'? He's a lively one, Mrs. Gray. Don't reckon
you'll be able to stick on him at all," warned Hi Lang.</p>
<p>"I have fallen off before, sir. Have him roped and brought out. I'll
try him out."</p>
<p>The guide shrugged his shoulders and walked over to the head
wrangler.</p>
<p>"Why take such unnecessary chances!" begged Tom Gray. "Surely there
are plenty of ponies in the bunch that are safe for you to ride."</p>
<p>"Tom, surely the black one can be no worse than that wild western pony
that I bought last fall and rode. You know he was supposed to be the last
word in viciousness and bucking ability, but I rode him
successfully."</p>
<p>"Very well, go ahead. You won't be satisfied until you have tried him,
but remember, I warned you," returned Grace's husband with some heat.</p>
<p>"Now, Tom," begged Grace pleadingly. "Please don't be a cross bear and
spoil my trip. You have been so perfectly lovely about it right up to
this moment, that it would be too bad if you were to get peevish now. If
you say I must not, of course I will not try to ride the animal, but I do
so want him."</p>
<p>Tom Gray shrugged his shoulders and laughed.</p>
<p>"Go to it, little woman. You have my full permission to break your
neck if you insist. I will see that little Yvonne keeps your memory
green."</p>
<p>"Oh, Tom! You are such a dear, but I promise you that you won't have
occasion to keep my memory green so far as that mischievous little black
pony is concerned."</p>
<p>Grace Harlowe's confidence in herself was not without good and
sufficient reason. The western pony that she had ridden the previous
winter had demonstrated nearly all the tricks known to the stubborn
broncos of the great west. At first Grace had had some bad spills, but
eventually she learned to outwit her pony and ride him no matter how
savagely he tried to unhorse her.</p>
<p>Not only had Grace learned to ride, in anticipation of another summer
in the saddle, but, under her husband's instruction, she had taken up
revolver shooting, and by spring was capable of qualifying as an expert,
especially in quick shooting at moving targets. Thus fitted for the
strenuous life in the wilder parts of her native land, Grace looked
forward with calm assurance to the experiences that she knew lay before
her.</p>
<p>"Bring out the black," Hi Lang had directed. "Cinch him so tight it
will make him squeal."</p>
<p>When a wrangler's rope caught him, the wiry little animal fought
viciously for a few moments, then suddenly surrendered and was led out as
docile as a lamb.</p>
<p>"Who said that black is vicious?" demanded Hippy Wingate.</p>
<p>"Want to ride him?" asked the guide good-naturedly.</p>
<p>"No. I have a real pony for myself."</p>
<p>"Watch those ears, Grace," warned Tom Gray.</p>
<p>"I am," replied Grace, and Hi Lang, overhearing, grunted his
satisfaction.</p>
<p>The black pony's ears were tilted back at an angle of forty-five
degrees, and there he held them while the saddle was being set in place,
and the girth cinched, both forefeet spread wide apart and head well
down. He winced a little as the girth was drawn a hole tighter so that
the saddle might not slip, but otherwise made no move, which, the cowboys
said, was an unusual thing for him to do.</p>
<p>The pony's sudden surrender was of itself suspicious to those who were
familiar with the western bronco, and the laid-back ears were significant
to them of trouble to come.</p>
<p>"Is he an outlaw!" asked Grace, meaning an animal naturally so vicious
that he never had been satisfactorily broken.</p>
<p>Hi Lang, to whom the question had been addressed, gave Grace a quick
glance of inquiry.</p>
<p>"Some call him that. At least he's got the ginger in him, and mebby he
is an outlaw. Keep a tight rein on him; don't let him get his head down
if you can help his doing so, and stick to your leather. Watch him every
second, for he's got a box full of tricks."</p>
<p>"Thank you for the suggestions. I shall not forget."</p>
<p>"I ought not let you ride him. I reckon you'll get enough of the
critter before you have ridden him many minutes, even if you stick on
that long."</p>
<p>"Mr. Lang, I intend to ride that 'critter,' as you call him, across
the desert. Will he bolt while I am mounting?"</p>
<p>"Mebby. All ready now."</p>
<p>"Have you any last requests to make, Grace Harlowe?" asked Elfreda
Briggs frowningly. Elfreda strongly disapproved of Grace's
"foolhardiness," as she called it.</p>
<p>"Yes, keep back and give me plenty of room. See that the other girls
do the same. The black may do a little side-stepping."</p>
<p>Grace, as she had done with the other ponies before mounting, stepped
up to the black and began petting and caressing him, now and then
straightening up the animal's ears, chiding him as she might a child.
This made the cowboys laugh. Cowboys when subduing broncos do not
ordinarily do so with anything resembling baby talk, and it was their
firm conviction that this pretty young tenderfoot from the east was about
to get the surprise of her life. Instead of feeling sorry for her,
however, the souls of the cowboys were filled with joy at the prospect of
some real fun. It was not often that they were privileged to see an
innocent easterner make an exhibition of himself on a vicious western
pony, and this was the first time they had ever seen a woman from the
east attempt to ride a bucking bronco, which made the occasion all the
more interesting.</p>
<p>"Stand clear, please," warned Grace, giving the pony's neck a final
pat, and at the same time edging her way back from his head, measuring
the distance to the stirrup with her eyes.</p>
<p>"I'll give you the word when to hit the leather," directed Hi in a low
voice. "Watch your step."</p>
<p>Grace acknowledged the warning with a brief nod, watching the black's
head narrowly. The animal still stood with forefeet braced apart, head
slightly lowered, ears, it seemed, flatter than ever.</p>
<p>"If I miss it I'm lost," muttered Grace, referring to the stirrup.</p>
<p>"Ready," warned the voice of the guide.</p>
<p>The girl's left hand holding the bridle rein crept cautiously to the
pommel of the saddle.</p>
<p>"Now!"</p>
<p>Grace's left foot caught the stirrup and, like a flash, the Overland
girl landed hard and firmly seated on the saddle, the right foot in the
stirrup on that side, then, with the aid of stirrup and cantle, she
braced herself to meet the shock that she knew was right at hand.</p>
<h3 align="CENTER"><a name="1_0_3">CHAPTER II. AN "OUTLAW" MEETS HIS
MATCH</a></h3>
<p>The black did not move a muscle for a few seconds, then, with a sudden
turn of the head, he made a grab for his rider's leg.</p>
<p>Grace, never having taken her eyes from the laid-back ears, gave a
quick kick with her left foot, catching the pony fairly on the nose. As
he hastily withdrew his head, she took advantage of the opportunity to
tighten up on the reins, which brought the animal's head well up.</p>
<p>All these preparatory activities were observed with intense interest
by cowboys and Overlanders.</p>
<p>"Watch him!" called Hi Lang in an urgent tone.</p>
<p>Grace was watching, her every faculty beat to the task of discovering
what the next move of her mount was to be.</p>
<p>The black, as she tightened the rein, reared high in the air until his
rider seemed to be standing straight up. One moment she felt that they
were both going to fall over backwards, and was about to clear the
stirrups to jump. Instead she brought her crop down on the black's head,
with a resounding whack.</p>
<p>"Yeow!" howled the cowboys, but Grace did not hear them, for the pony
had dropped to all fours, and no sooner had his feet touched the ground
than he leaped clear of it, coming down stiff-legged with a jolt that
jarred Grace Harlowe throughout her body in spite of her effort to soften
the shock by throwing most of her weight on the stirrups.</p>
<p>"He's going to buck," warned the steady voice of Hi Lang.</p>
<p>Grace knew it in advance of the guide's warning, but, though she
tugged with all her might, she was not strong enough to get the black
bronco's head up so he could not carry out his intention. There followed
a series of bucks and squeals, accompanied with flying hoofs, that sent
the spectators fleeing for safety.</p>
<p>As for the Overland girl, her head was spinning, her hair was down and
her sombrero long since had fallen off and been trampled in the alkali
dust by the hoofs of her mount. The jolting she was getting was almost
more than she could endure and sharp pains were shooting through her
body. This bronco indeed was a master at the art of bucking, but vicious
as were his movements the black had not succeeded in ridding himself of
his rider.</p>
<p>"Look out!" yelled the guide.</p>
<p>All four feet went from under the pony and he struck the ground on his
side with a force that brought a grunt from him. In the cloud of dust the
spectators thought that Grace had been caught under the horse and
crashed. Emma Dean uttered a cry of alarm, and Nora Wingate turned her
head away that she might not see.</p>
<p>"She's all right!" shouted Hiram Lang, who had sprung forward to give
assistance if it were needed.</p>
<p>The pony had thrown itself on its right side. Mr. Lang found Grace
sitting calmly on the side of the saddle, free of the body of the horse,
but breathing heavily. Her quickness had been the means of her
disengaging herself as the bronco threw himself to the ground.</p>
<p>After giving the black a few seconds on his side, the Overland Rider
brought her crop down on his rump with a vicious whack. It stung. Like a
flash the pony was on his feet, with Grace's feet now planted firmly in
the stirrups.</p>
<p>As Grace had expected, the bucking was resumed the instant the pony
felt the smart of the crop. How the dust did fly then, and how those
cowboy wranglers did yell!</p>
<p>"Who's a tenderfoot!" howled Hippy Wingate. "Just watch her
smoke."</p>
<p>Grace Harlowe's whole body was weary, but her grit was not diminishing
in the least. However, she decided that the time had arrived when she
must do a little fighting for herself, and not leave it all to the pony,
so, having arrived at this decision, Grace watched narrowly for a
favorable opportunity to begin.</p>
<p>The opportunity came a few seconds later when the horse threw up his
head preparatory to pitching forward in another series of savage bucks.
Grace jerked the animal's head to one side, brought her quirt down
sharply, and, at the same time, jabbed the little black fighter with her
spurs.</p>
<p>She continued to apply this treatment for several seconds until the
bronco, goaded to a change of tactics, whirled and started away at a run,
driving straight through the assembled crowd. The crowd fled for their
lives with Grace unable now to do more than stay on the saddle.</p>
<p>The black had not gone far before he stopped as suddenly as he had
started, stopped stiff-legged, braced himself and slid on his feet
through the alkali for several yards.</p>
<p>Grace Harlowe had been alert for this very thing, but just the same
the suddenness of the move had nearly unhorsed her. As it was she fell
forward on the neck of the bronco, but, recovering herself before the
animal could begin bucking again, she regained her former position in the
saddle and applied crop and spur vigorously.</p>
<p>The bronco again tried to buck, but under Grace's lively treatment he
gave it up and started to run, and for the next few minutes pony and
rider went like a black streak across the landscape, the Overland girl
giving the pony no time for anything but to travel as fast as his legs
would carry him, until they were a full two miles from the village.</p>
<p>Grace finally turned him about, without resistance on the pony's part,
and raced for the corral, driving and urging the pony with crop and word,
bound to wear him down and convince him once and for all that she was his
master.</p>
<p>As the Overland Rider came up to the corral now at a jog trot, the
bronco covered with white foam, the cowboys broke loose. Shrill cowboy
yells, whoops and cat calls and a rattling fire of revolver shots into
the air greeted her achievement.</p>
<p>"Grab him, you duffers!" shouted Hi Lang, running toward the bronco as
he saw Grace wavering on her saddle. "Can't you see that game kid's all
in?"</p>
<p>It was only by the exercise of sheer pluck that Grace Harlowe had held
her seat on the saddle throughout that grilling ride. She had fought and
won a battle with an "outlaw" pony that many a hard- muscled cowboy had
fought only to lose. Now that she had conquered, however, Grace felt weak
and dizzy, and the reaction, she found, was worse than the experience
itself.</p>
<p>At Hi Lang's command, half a dozen cowboys had sprung to her
assistance, but it was Hi who held up his arms to help her down.</p>
<p>"Fall over. I'll catch you," he urged.</p>
<p>Grace shook her head and tried to smile.</p>
<p>"I—I think I can make it, tha—ank you," she gasped,
freeing her feet from the stirrups and slipping limply until her feet
touched the ground. For a moment she stood leaning against the bronco for
support, one hand clinging to the pommel of the saddle.</p>
<p>The guide sought to draw her away, fearful that the pony might spring
to one side and let loose a volley of kicks.</p>
<p>Grace shook her head, her left hand grasped the mane of the pony and
she pulled herself to his head. Fumbling in her pocket, she drew forth a
piece of candy and felt rather than, saw the bronco's lips close over the
sweet morsel.</p>
<p>"Wall, ef thet don't beat the Dutch!" exclaimed a cowboy. "A bronc'
eatin' outer a lady's hand. What's the alkali flats a- comin' to!"</p>
<p>"She's a reg'lar lion tamer, thet's the shorest thing I know,"
declared another. "Hey! What's up now?"</p>
<p>Grace's fingers had slowly relaxed their grip on the black bronco's
mane, a faint moan escaped her lips, and the Overland girl slipped down
under the pony's neck in a dead faint. The bronco, merely by lifting a
forefoot and bringing it down on his conqueror, could have crushed the
life out of Grace Harlowe.</p>
<p>Instead, the horse arched his neck, curled his head down and nosed her
with the nearest approach to affection that any man there ever had seen a
bronco exhibit.</p>
<p>Hi Lang gathered the unconscious girl up cautiously and carried her to
a safe spot where he laid her down.</p>
<p>"Get water. Everybody stand back and give her air," he directed.</p>
<p>"I will look after her," said Elfreda Brigg hurrying to Grace's
side.</p>
<p>The water, fetched in a cowboy's hat, came hand just as Grace regained
consciousness Elfreda bathed her face from the hat and fanned her with
her own sombrero.</p>
<p>"What a per—perfectly silly thing for me do," muttered Grace,
raising herself on elbow.</p>
<p>"If you mean riding that wild animal, I agree with you," frowned Miss
Briggs.</p>
<p>"I mean the faint. What will these men think of me!"</p>
<p>"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."</p>
<p>Bud stepped up, flushing painfully under his tan, awkwardly fumbling
his hat.</p>
<p>"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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>"Them's our sentiments. We double cinch what Bud jest articulated,
Lady," called a cowboy voice.</p>
<p>"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.</p>
<p>"Where do you all reckon on goin', Miss?" questioned another of the
men.</p>
<p>Grace told him that they had planned to cross the American Desert.</p>
<p>"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.</p>
<p>"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.</p>
<p>Grace thanked him and said she would remember.</p>
<p>"You are not thinking of riding that black bronco, are you!"
questioned Tom Gray. "What's the next move?"</p>
<p>"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?"</p>
<p>"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.</p>
<p>"That would be the sensible course to follow," agreed Grace's
husband.</p>
<p>"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?"</p>
<p>"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.</p>
<p>"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."</p>
<p>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.</p>
<h3 align="CENTER"><a name="1_0_4">CHAPTER III. A THRILLING
MOMENT</a></h3>
<p>"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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>"How is Blackie behaving at present, Mr. Lang?" questioned Grace,
stepping over towards the guide, who was readjusting the cinch- girth on
the little animal.</p>
<p>"Quiet as a kitten after finding a nest of young mice. Better put your
revolver in the saddle holster where it will be handy. That's where I
carry mine. The lieutenant is stowing his now. Never know when the
'hardware' is going to come in handy on the desert."</p>
<p>A lump of sugar found its way into the black bronco's mouth from Grace
Harlowe's hand, as she petted and talked to the little fellow. This time
his ears were tilted forward, and he stood motionless while his new
master was caressing him. The instant Grace stepped away, however, the
black grew restless. He dragged the cowboy who was holding him and
threatened to break away, nor was he quieted until Grace herself
intervened and, slipping the bridle rein over her arm and leading the
pony, walked over to Tom Gray.</p>
<p>"No wonder you are successful in managing a husband," observed Tom.
"Even the dumb animals bow to your will."</p>
<p>"Now, Tom," protested Grace laughingly, the color mounting to her
cheeks. "That wasn't a bit nice of you."</p>
<p>"Ready whenever you are, Mrs. Gray," interrupted the voice of Hi
Lang.</p>
<p>Grace turned to her husband, the laughter gone from her face.</p>
<p>"I shall miss you, Tom dear. Write to Yvonne as often as you can, and
to me, but Yvonne needs our letters to keep her from getting lonely at
school. Good-bye and the best of luck, as we used to say when we were in
France."</p>
<p>Grace patted the neck of the black bronco, and Tom assisted her to the
saddle. Blackie began to prance, but, though he threatened to buck, he
did not. Grace finally subdued him and sat waiting for her companions to
mount, all of whom managed the operation successfully, though Emma Dean
was twice nearly unhorsed.</p>
<p>The cowboys, as the Overland girls observed, were saddled up as if
they too were going along, but she supposed they were starting out on
some duty connected with their work. All but two of them mounted, and
there followed an exhibition of prancing and bucking that furnished
amusement and interest to Grace and her friends.</p>
<p>Bud and a companion finally rode up before Grace and dismounted, the
former removing his sombrero and approaching her awkwardly.</p>
<p>Glancing inquiringly at Mr. Lang, Grace saw that he was smiling.</p>
<p>"Bud has something on his mind. I reckon he wants to unload, Mrs.
Gray," announced the guide.</p>
<p>"Yes, Bud?" smiled Grace encouragingly. "What is it?"</p>
<p>"It's yourself, Miss. The bunch here reckoned as I, bein' gifted with
the knack of gab, it fer me to speak for 'em. They're tongue- tied when
there's a woman on the premises."</p>
<p>"What is it the 'bunch' wishes you to say to me?" asked the Overland
girl.</p>
<p>"They seen you bust the black bronc' this morning, and bein' as no
female woman ever pulled off a stunt like it in these parts, they
reckoned it might not make you mad if they told you you was all to the
good."</p>
<p>"Thank you—thank you all." Grace waved a hand and smiled at the
eager faces of the cowboys who, lined up on their ponies, just to the
rear of Bud and a companion, were eagerly hanging on Bud's words, but not
taking their gaze from Grace Harlowe's face for an instant.</p>
<p>"The bunch reckoned, too, that bein' a champeen mebby you'd take a
little present from 'em. I ain't much on spreadin' the dough, even if I
have some gab," added Bud, floundering for the rest of his speech.</p>
<p>"Bud, I'm just as excited as you are, and, were I in your place, I
should not know what to say next," comforted Grace seriously. "What is it
that the 'bunch' wished you to give to me?"</p>
<p>Bud reached a hand behind him, whereupon his companion placed
something in it. Emma Dean whispered to Nora that it looked like a
blacksnake all coiled up and ready to jump.</p>
<p>"This here," resumed the cowboy, holding up the coil that had been
passed to him, "is a real Mexican lariat, made by a Greaser, but real
horsehair, and warranted not to kink or to miss in the hands of a lady.
The bunch reckons they'd like to give it to you to remember 'em by,"
concluded Bud, stepping forward and handing the lariat to Grace.</p>
<p>"Bud—boys, I don't need anything to make me remember you, but of
course I will accept your thoughtful gift. I never threw a rope and could
not hit the side of a barn with one, but now that you have given me this
beautiful piece of rope I am going to learn to throw it. Mr. Lang, will
you teach me how to rope—to throw the lasso?"</p>
<p>The guide nodded.</p>
<p>"If we come back this way, I hope I shall see all you boys here, and I
will then throw the rope for you and you shall tell me whether or not I
am a hopeless tenderfoot."</p>
<p>"You ain't no tenderfoot already," called a cowboy.</p>
<p>"Thank you. Good-bye, all." Grace waved her sombrero, and, blowing a
kiss to her husband, clucked to her pony and was off at a gallop,
following in the wake of Hi Lang, who had already started on.</p>
<p>The others of the Overland party swung in and the party began its
journey. They had gone but a short distance when, hearing shouts to the
rear, they turned to discover the cowboys racing toward them in a cloud
of dust.</p>
<p>"What do they want, Mr. Lang!" called Grace, urging her pony up to
him.</p>
<p>"I reckon they're coming out to give you a send off," answered the
guide.</p>
<p>As they approached, the cowboys spread out and began circling the
galloping Overlanders, yelling, whooping and firing their revolvers into
the air. Now and then one's sombrero would fly off, whereupon a following
cowboy would swing down from his saddle and scoop up the hat.</p>
<p>Ropes began to wiggle through the air as the western riders sought to
rope each other. They were giving Grace Harlowe a demonstration of what
western roping was, and, as she rode, Grace observed and enjoyed, as did
her companions.</p>
<p>Suddenly a rope darted into the air behind her, and, had she not seen
its shadow, Grace surely would have been caught. Interpreting that shadow
for what it was the Overland Rider threw herself forward on her pony's
neck just as the loop descended. It dropped lightly on her back, but she
was out from under it in a flash, and, as she sped on, she turned a
laughing face to the roper, who was being rewarded by the jeers of his
companions who had chanced to see him make the cast and fail.</p>
<p>Howling and whooping like a wild Indian, another rider shot directly
across Grace's path, his glee spinning his sombrero as high in the air as
he could throw it, intending to ride under and catch it. Grace's
revolver, the same weapon that she had taken from Belle Bates, the wife
of the bandit of the Apache Trail, whipped out of its holster in a
second. Her first shot at the spinning hat missed, but her second shot
was a hit. She put a hole right through the crown of the hat.</p>
<p>The whooping and yelling was renewed as the owner of the hat scooped
it up from the ground and held it up for the others to see. There were
two, however, who were taking no interest in the shooting—the
cowboy who had tried to rope Grace, and a companion who was chasing and
trying to rope him in payment for his unsportsmanlike attempt to cast his
lariat over Grace Harlowe's head.</p>
<p>The two were darting in and out among the racing cowboys and
Overlanders at the imminent peril of running down some one; the dust was
a suffocating, choking cloud except as they rode ahead, and then only
those in the lead were out of the worst of it. The Overlanders were
coughing and perspiring, and the shouting and shooting at times made
conversation well nigh. impossible.</p>
<p>"What is this, a wild west show?" cried Elfreda Briggs, riding toward
Grace Harlowe, who was entering into the sport with a zest that set Hi
Lang's head nodding in approval.</p>
<p>"The real wild west, Elfreda. It is not easy to find, but we have
found it in earnest. Oh! Look at that!"</p>
<p>The pursuing cowboy had now roped a hind foot of the pony ridden by
the man who had attempted to lasso Grace Harlowe.</p>
<p>The lariat being attached to the pommel of the thrower's saddle, the
roped pony went down on its nose, violently hurling its rider to the
ground, but the little horse was up in a flash, galloping away and
dragging along the rope which it had jerked free from the owner's hands
and from the saddle pommel.</p>
<p>Not only was it dragging the lasso, but also its cowboy rider, who,
with one foot caught in a stirrup, was being bumped along on his back
over the uneven ground.</p>
<p>Elfreda Briggs, nearest to the fallen cowboy, instantly spurred her
pony after the runaway. She was abreast of it in a moment. Grasping the
bridle of the runaway, Elfreda tugged at it with all her might in her
endeavor to stop the animal, shouting, "Whoa! Whoa!"</p>
<p>In the meantime, Grace on Blackie was heading for the scene at top
speed, seeking to head off the runaway.</p>
<p>Others also were trying to stop the animal and rescue the fallen
cowboy, but it was Elfreda's race, with Grace following her. Elfreda was
clinging desperately to the bridle of the runaway with one hand, the
other holding fast to the pommel of her saddle, but despite all her
efforts she failed to check the speed of the runaway, leaning over toward
it further and further as the space between the two ponies widened.</p>
<p>This meant a fall for Elfreda, as she suddenly realized.</p>
<p>"Let go!" cried Grace, but Elfreda was too busy to hear and still held
on to the runaway.</p>
<p>The runaway swerved sharply to the right. Miss Briggs had the presence
of mind to kick back with both feet as she felt herself going to fall
off. She did this to clear her feet from the stirrups so that when she
fell she might not be dragged along on the ground by one foot. She was
now leaning too far over to be able to recover her balance on her own
saddle.</p>
<p>Miss Briggs suddenly let go of the pommel of her saddle as she felt
herself slipping, and threw both arms about the neck of the runaway, to
which she clung with all her might.</p>
<p>"Whoa! Whoa!" she gasped chokingly, her feet whipping the ground with
every leap of the runaway as she was dragged along. Elfreda was taking
severe punishment, but she was enduring it pluckily, determined to hang
on until either the runaway stopped or her arms came off.</p>
<p>Grace Harlowe drew down rapidly on the runaway and its victims, having
so timed her arrival that she succeeded in heading the pony off, with
several yards between it and herself.</p>
<p>"Whoa! Whoa!" commanded Grace sharply, at the same time hurling her
sombrero into the face of the runaway. Instead of slowing down, he came
on with a rush, and Grace, who was now directly in his path, saw that she
could not avoid a collision.</p>
<p>The bronco ridden by Grace braced himself, seeming to know
instinctively what was coming.</p>
<p>In the next moment the runaway plunged against Blackie, and the impact
bowled Blackie over flat on his side.</p>
<p>Grace already had slipped her feet from the stirrups, and, when the
collision came, she too threw herself on the neck of the runaway.</p>
<p>"Ha—ang on! We'll stop him!" she cried, her arms now tightly
encircling the runaway's neck, her feet dragging on the ground just as
Elfreda's were.</p>
<p>By this time the two girls on the running pony's neck were surrounded
by mounted cowboys.</p>
<p>"Let go! Jump clear so we kin rope him!" shouted Bud, for the men
dared not rope and throw the horse, fearing that he might fall on one of
the girls and crush her.</p>
<p>The cowboys did not seem to realize that neither girl would let go of
her own free will until the runaway had been stopped.</p>
<p>The end came suddenly. The heavy burden on his neck was too much for
the bronco, and, his knees weakening, all at once he stumbled and went
down on his nose, then toppled over on his side, enveloped in a cloud of
dust.</p>
<p>"They're caught!" shouted Hi Lang.</p>
<h3 align="CENTER"><a name="1_0_5">CHAPTER IV. PING WING MAKES A