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Pony Rider Boys in the Alkali

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<h3> CHAPTER XI </h3> <h4> A PIECE OF HUMAN SANDPAPER </h4> An appetizing meal had been spread for the visitors. But every time the men glanced at their companion they broke out into loud guffaws. "You're a sight, Bud," jeered one. "Next time better take a man of your size," said another. "Guess that's right," grinned the vanquished one. "Ye can't most always tell what a kid's going to do." "We know what this one did do to you, though," laughed another. "Reckon I do myself," admitted Stevens. "Say, kiddie, you come along with us and try them tricks on the wild hosses we're going to catch. Mebby I'll forgit to take it out of you. I'll let the white stallion do that." "Thank you; I'll accept that invitation, with Professor Zepplin's permission." "We intended to drop in on your bunch, anyway," interposed Parry. "The boss has invited us to join a horse hunt with you." "Better go along with us now, then," suggested Stevens. "We won't have no more rough house, leastwise till we get to the San Antone Range, eh?" "No," replied Parry. "We have a pack train to drag along. Besides, you fellows travel too fast for us. We'll take our time and join you later." The bath and the hot coffee had served to quiet Bud Stevens's bubbling spirits. He was by this time a more rational being. After they had finished the meal Bud drew Tad Butler aside confidentially. "Say, kiddie, I like you," he said, slapping the lad a violent blow between the shoulders. "Glad of it," laughed Tad. "But you have a queer way of showing your affection." "Say, can you ride?" "Some," admitted Tad. "As well as you can fight and throw a rope?" "I was not aware that I did either one very well." "Go away! Go away! You're a champeen. I've got a spavined, ring-boned cayuse over in the range that I'm going to put you up against when you join us. He'll give you all the exercise you want——" "Hey, Bud, ain't it 'bout time we were moseying?" called one of Stevens's companions. "I reckon. Can't be any hotter than 'tis now. When you going to join us, Parry?" "We'll be there in a few days. But come here; I want to talk with you?" "Sure thing." "If we go on a hunt with you, remember there's to be no funny business. These boys, while they're no tenderfeet, are fine fellows and they must be treated well. I'm responsible for them. What I say goes. Understand?" "We'll look out for the kids, don't you get in a hot stew 'bout that." With a final whoop and a cheer for the members of Tom Parry's party, the turbulent cowboys put spurs to their ponies. Once more a cloud of dust rose from the desert, across which it slowly rolled. The boys watched it for half an hour, until the cloud had dwindled to a mere speck in the distance. "Not such a bad lot, after all," was the Professor's conclusion. "Rough diamonds," smiled the guide. "Are we going on now, Mr. Parry?" asked Tad. "No; I think we may as well unpack and make camp here until to-morrow morning. Then the stock will be fresh, and so shall we." "The stock looks to be in pretty good shape already," answered Tad. "Yes; but they will be much better to-morrow. A day's water and feed will do wonders for them. I guess the bunch of horse-hunters made quite a hole in our fodder, didn't they?" "There was nothing the matter with their appetites that I observed," laughed Tad. "But we've got enough to last us for some time. How long before we shall strike the range where we are to join them?" Parry glanced off over the desert meditatively. "If we have no bad luck we ought to make it in three days. The cowboys will get there some time to-morrow." "One of them won't," answered Tad, confidently. "Why not?" "His pony is wind-broken. Didn't you hear him breathe when they rode in?" "What, with the bunch howling like a pack of coyotes? No, I didn't hear a horse breathe." "I did," chimed in Stacy. "Did what?" queried Ned, turning on him sharply. Rector had not heard the fat boy approach them. "Heard the big cowboy breathe. He wheezed like a leaky steam engine." Tad and the guide burst out laughing. "Why, boy, we weren't talking about the cowboy. We were speaking of one of the bronchos. Tad says he is wind-broken." "Huh!" grunted Stacy, strolling off with hands thrust in his pockets, chin on his breast. "When I'm not right I'm always wrong," he muttered. "Mostly wrong." They did not see the lad again for more than an hour. The rest of the party gathered under the tent they had first erected, where they now fell to discussing their late visitors, next turning to their plans for the morrow. "Do we follow the same course when we next start?" asked the Professor. "Not quite. We veer a little more to the west, until we string the San Antonio Range. When we leave there, if you conclude to go on, we shall head southward toward Death Valley. I understand you are willing to penetrate it a little way." "Yes, if you think it is safe to do so." Parry shrugged his shoulders. "Death Valley is no better than its name. If you wish merely to see it, I think I can gratify your desire." "Yes, yes, we want to see Death Valley," chorused the boys. "Don't be afraid for us." "I'll try to get some water bags from the horse-hunters when we join them; for the further south one goes on the desert the more scarce the water becomes." The sun was lying low by this time and the advance guard of the evening coolness began crowding back the heat of the day. "I wonder what has become of Chunky?" questioned Tad suddenly, rising from the ground where he had thrown himself in the shade of the tent. The others glanced quickly about them. "Probably find him asleep behind a bunch of sage somewhere," answered Ned lightly. "Don't trouble yourself about him." "Perhaps over by the water hole," suggested the guide. "I'll stroll over that way." Just then a figure topped the ridge beyond them. It was yelling lustily, leaping into the air, rolling and groveling on the ground alternately. "There he is! Something's happened to him," shouted Walter. All hands started on a run. They could not imagine what had gone wrong with the fat boy. As they drew nearer to him they discovered that he had taken off all his clothes. His body was as red as if it had been painted. The Professor's long legs were covering the alkali at a pace that left the others behind, until Tad spurted and headed him. "Chunky, Chunky! What's the matter?" he shouted. Stacy yelled more lustily than ever. "What is it? What is it?" shouted the others in chorus. "I'm burned alive? I'm cremated! Oh, w-o-w!" "Should think you would he. What on earth have you got your clothes off for?" They discovered that something was the matter then, for an expression of real pain had taken the place of the complacent look they were wont to see on the face of Stacy Brown. "He's been boiling himself!" exclaimed the guide, with quick intuition. Grasping the fat boy, Parry threw him flat on the ground and began rolling him in the sand. Stacy yelled more lustily than before. "Run to my saddlebags. Fetch the black bottle you will find there!" commanded the guide. "It's oil, yes. Hurry, before his skin all peels off." Tad was back with the black bottle in no time. Tom Parry spread the oil over the blistered flesh of the fat boy, whose yells grew less and less explosive as he felt the soothing effects of the grease on his body. "Wha—what happened?" stammered Walter. "I—I fell in." "In where?" questioned the Professor sharply. "I don't know. It was hot." "Put your clothes on. You'll be all right in a little while. Where did you leave them?" Stacy pointed back on the desert some distance, whereat Parry laughingly said he would go in search of the clothing. "Now if you will be good enough to tell me what all this uproar is about, I shall be obliged to you," requested the Professor. "Why, the boy found a boiling spring——" "And he fell in," added Ned solemnly. "He did," agreed the guide, without the suspicion of a smile. "Is that it, Master Stacy?" Stacy nodded. "Tell me about it." "I—I was walking along with my hands in my pockets——" "Thinking," interjected Ned. "What'd you suppose I was doing! Ain't I always thinking when I'm not asleep?" "Go on, go on," urged Ned unsympathetically. "All at once something slipped. I went right through the ground. At first I thought I was a pond of ice water, it felt so cold. Next thing I knew I was burning up." "But your clothes? What did you have them off for?" urged the Professor. "I took them off when I thought I was burning up. Say, fellows, that was the hottest ice water I ever took a bath in my life." The boys could barely resist their inclination to laugh. "Why don't you laugh if you want to? Never mind me. I don't count," growled Chunky. Parry explained that these boiling springs were not infrequent on the desert. They were found, generally, further north, he said. This one must have worked its way up through the alkali until only a thin crust covered it, and this crust the boy had had the misfortune to step on and break through. "You wouldn't think there were so many pitfalls under this baked desert, would you?" questioned Ned. "I look like a piece of human sandpaper, don't I?" muttered Stacy ruefully, as he carefully drew on his clothes. "Every time I sit down I'll remember that hot ice water." <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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