The piece of bread, baked the day previous from the last of their store of flour, was brought out; and, munching it slowly that it might seem to be more, Dick started off again.
Not until nearly nightfall did he return; but he had with him such portion of a deer's carcass as he could drag, and all fear of starvation was banished from camp.
The wounded man was resting more comfortably, if such term can be applied properly when one is suffering severest pain; and after hanging the meat beneath the wagon, Dick questioned his mother as to what might be done if they were within reach of a physician.
"If we could see one, Dickey, your father's life might be saved, for such a wound should not be exceedingly dangerous. If I knew how to treat it, and had the proper washes, we ought to nurse him back to life; but as it is, I haven't even that which would check the fever."
"If you could talk to a doctor would it be all right?"
"I believe so, Dickey."
"Would the medecine you want cost very much?"
"It is the same to us whether the price be much or little, since we haven't the opportunity to get what is needed, nor the money with which to pay for it if a shop were near at hand."
Dick ceased his questioning, and set about performing such work around the camp as might well have been left undone until the next day.
A generous supply of broiled venison was made ready, and the boy ate heartily; after which he went into the wagon, telling his mother he would play the part of nurse until dark, when she could take his place.
Once in the vehicle, partially screened from view, Dick, after much search for the bit of a lead-pencil his father owned, wrote on a piece of brown paper that had contained the last ten pounds of flour Mr. Stevens had purchased, the following words, —
Dear Mother, – I know you won't let me go to Antelope Spring if I tell you about what I'm minded to do, so I shall slip off the first thing in the morning. I'll take my rifle with me, and by selling it, get what stuff daddy needs. I can talk with a doctor too; and when I come back we'll fix the poor old man up in great shape.
Don't worry about me, for I can get across without any bother. I'm going to take the canteen and some slices of meat, so I sha'n't be hungry or thirsty. I count on being back in three days; but if I'm gone five you mustn't think anything has gone wrong, for it may be a longer trip than I'm reckonin' on.
I love you, and daddy, and Margie mighty well; and this footing it across the desert ain't half as dangerous as you think for.
Your son,Dickey.
When this had been done, he kissed his father twice, smoothed the hair back from the pale, damp forehead, and whispered, —
"I'm going so's you'll get well, my poor old man; and you mustn't make any kick, 'cause it's got to be done."
Then he came out as if tired of playing the nurse, and proposed that he sleep under the wagon that night.
"With all hands inside, daddy would be crowded; and I'm as well off out-of-doors. Kiss me, mother, for I'm mighty tired."
CHAPTER III.
A SAND-STORM
In this proposal to retire thus early Mrs. Stevens saw nothing to excite her suspicions regarding Dick's real intentions.
He had worked for thirty-six hours almost incessantly; and it would not be strange if this unusual exertion, together with the weariness caused by excitement, had brought him to the verge of exhaustion.
His mother would have insisted upon bringing out one of the well-worn blankets, but that Dick was decidedly opposed to taking anything from the wagon which might in the slightest degree contribute to his father's comfort.
"I'm very well off on the bare ground, and with the wagon to shelter me from the dew I couldn't be better fixed. Our poor old man needs all we've got, mother; and you may be sure I won't lay awake thinking of the feather-beds we had at Willow Point, 'cause it's about as much as I can do to keep my eyes open."
"You are a dear good boy, and God will reward you. In addition to saving your father's life, for that is what you've done this day, you have lightened my burden until it would be wicked to repine."
"I'll risk your ever doing anything very wicked, mother; and if the time comes when it seems to you as though I don't do exactly as you want me to, just remember all you've said about my being a good boy, an' let it be a stand-off, will you?"
"I am certain you will never do anything to cause me sorrow, Dickey, dear. Don't get up until you have been thoroughly rested; for now that we have food in camp, I can do all that will be necessary."
Then Dick's mother kissed him again, not leaving him until he had stretched out at full length under the wagon; and so tired was the boy that Mrs. Stevens had hardly got back to take up her duties as nurse when his loud breathing told that he was asleep.
When Dick awakened it was still dark; but he believed, because he no longer felt extremely weary, that the night was nearly spent; and for the success of his plan it was of the utmost importance he should set out before his mother was astir.
It was his purpose to travel on foot to Antelope Spring, a distance in an air-line of about forty-five miles, fifteen of which would be across the upper portion of Smoke Creek Desert.
In this waste of sand lay all the danger of the undertaking. The number of miles to be travelled troubled him but little, for more than once had he walked nearly as far in a single day while hunting; and he proposed to spend thirty-six hours on each stage of the journey.
Creeping cautiously out from under the wagon, he fastened his letter to the flap of the canvas covering in such a manner that his mother could not fail to see it when she first came out; and then he wrapped in leaves several slices of broiled venison, after which he stowed them in his pocket.
The canteen was filled at a spring near-by.
He saw to it that his ammunition belt contained no more than half a dozen cartridges, and then took up his rifle, handling it almost lovingly; for this, his only valuable possession, he intended to part with in order to secure what might be necessary for his father's relief and comfort.
The weapon was slung over his back where it would not impede his movements; and with a single glance backward he set out with a long, swinging stride such as he knew by experience he could maintain for many hours.
It was still dark when he had crossed the fertile meadows, and arrived at the border of an apparently limitless expanse of yellow sand.
Here it would not be possible to maintain the pace at which he had started, because of the loose sand in which his feet sank to the depth of an inch at each step.
Having set out at such an early hour, this boy, who was perilling his life in the hope of aiding his father, believed the more dangerous portion of the journey might be accomplished before the heat of the day should be the most severe.
When the sun rose Dick had travelled, as nearly as he could estimate, over three miles of desert; and his courage increased with the knowledge that one-fifth of the distance across the sands had already been traversed.
At the end of the next hour he said to himself that he must be nearly midway on the road of sand; and although the labor of walking was most severe, his heart was very light.
"Once across, I'll push on as fast as any fellow can walk," he said aloud, as if the sound of his own voice gave him cheer. "By making an extra effort I ought to be in Antelope Spring before midnight, and have plenty of time to sleep between now and morning. Half a day there to sell the rifle, an' buy what is needed, an' by sunset I should be at the edge of the desert again, ready to make this part of the tramp after dark."
He walked quickly, and like one who intends to go but a short distance.
The forty-five-mile tramp seemed to him but a trifle as compared with what was to be gained by the making of it.
He thought of his mother as she read the note he had left on the flap of the wagon-covering, and wondered if she looked upon his departure as an act of disobedience, which, in fact, it was, since both his parents had insisted he should not attempt it.
Then his thoughts went out to his father, and he told over in his mind all the questions he would ask of the doctor at Antelope Spring; for he had no doubt but that he should find one of that profession there.
He took little heed to the monotonous view around him, until suddenly he saw in the distance what appeared to be a low-hanging cloud; then he said to himself that if a shower should spring up the sun's face would be covered, and the heat, which was now very great, must be lessened.
As this cloud advanced, descending to the sands while it rose toward the heavens, it grew more black; and on either side were long columns of seeming vapor rising, and as rapidly disappearing.
Then across the darkness on that portion of the horizon something bright moved swiftly, as if a flash of lightning had passed over the face of the cloud; and in an instant the sun and the sky were shut out from view.
Now the clouds took on the appearance of a dense black fog, coming up from the southward over the desert, until Dick was seemingly looking at a gigantic wall, over the face of which shone now and then bright flashes of light.
There was a shrieking and moaning in the air, so it seemed to the startled boy; and he failed to understand the meaning of this strange scene, until, the impenetrable wall having come so near, he could see that what appeared like flashes of light were gigantic columns of sand springing high in the air with fantastic shapes, and glinted by the sun from above the apparent vapor, until they were swallowed up in the enormous bank of cloud behind them.
Then it was Dick knew the meaning of this terrible danger which threatened him.
It was a storm of sand. "Dancing giants" some have termed it, and others speak of it as the "hot blizzard."
As if in an instant the dancing, swirling columns and the rushing cloud of sand, which swayed to and fro in fantastic movements, surrounded him.
He was in the centre of a cyclone freighted with particles of sand.
The wind roared until one might have believed he heard the crash of thunder.
Dick halted, terrified, bewildered; and as he came to a standstill, it seemed to him that the clouds on every hand lowered until he could see the blue sky above. Then with a shriek from the wind the very sand beneath his feet rose and fell like billows of the sea.
The tempest was upon him.
He shielded his eyes with his arm; but the stinging, heated particles sought out every inch of his body, and his clothing afforded but little protection.
The sand penetrated his ears and nostrils, and burned his lips until they bled.
He had heard it said that to remain motionless in such a tempest means death; for wherever the wind meets with an obstruction, there it piles the sand in huge mounds, and his father had told of more than one hunter who had thus been buried alive.
It was death to remain motionless, and yet to move seemed impossible.
Whether he turned to the right or the left the whirlwind struck him with a fury which it was difficult to withstand. It was as if the wind swept in upon him from every point of the compass – as if he was the centre of this whirling, dancing, blinding, murderous onrush of sand.
The boy's throat was dry. He was burning with thirst.
The dust-laden air seemed to have literally filled his lungs, and it was with difficulty he could breathe.
Despite the protection he sought to give, his eyes were inflamed, and the lids cruelly swollen.
He sank ankle-deep at every step, and above him and around him the wild blasts shrieked, until there were times when he feared lest he should be thrown from his feet.
Pulling his hat down over his aching eyes, the bewildered, terrified boy tried to gain some relief from the thirst which assailed him.
He understood that the contents of his canteen must be guarded jealously; for if he lived there were still several miles of the desert journey to be traversed, and the walking would be even more difficult than before the storm set in, because of the shifting sand.
His distress rendered him reckless; and regardless of the future, he drank fully half the water in the canteen, bathing his eyes with a small quantity poured in the hollow of his hand.
It would have been better if he had not tried to find relief by this last method, for the flying particles of sand adhered to such portions of his face as were wet, forming a coating over the skin almost instantly.
He attempted to brush it off, and the gritty substance cut into his flesh as if he had rubbed it with emery-paper.
Then came into Dick's mind the thought that he should never more see his parents on this earth, and for the instant his courage so far deserted him that he was on the point of flinging himself face downward upon the sand.
Fortunately there appeared before his mental vision a picture of his father lying in the wagon with the certainty that death would come unless his son could bring relief, and this nerved the boy to yet greater exertion.
With his arms over his face, he pushed forward once more, not knowing whether he might be retracing his steps, or proceeding in the proper direction.
Every inch of advance was made against the fierce wind and drifting sand which nearly overthrew him.
Every breath he drew was choked with dust.
How long he thus literally fought against the elements it was impossible for him so much as to conjecture.
He knew his strength was spending rapidly; and when it seemed as if he could not take another step, he stumbled, and fell against a mound of sand.
It had been built by the "dancing giants" when some obstruction had been found in the path of the storm; and as Dick fell prostrate at the foot of this slight elevation, there instantly came a sense of deepest relief.
The sand was no longer thrown against him by the blast; the wind had ceased to buffet him; he was in comparative quiet, and for an instant he failed to understand the reason.
Then he realized that this mound, which had thrown him from his feet, was affording a shelter against the tempest, which was now coming from one direction instead of in a circle as heretofore; and a fervent prayer of thanksgiving went up from his heart, for he believed his life had been saved that he might aid his father.
After recovering in a measure from the exhaustion consequent upon his battle with the elements, he proceeded with infinite care to brush the particles of sand from his face; and this done, his relief was yet greater.
Overhead the air was full of darkness; the wind still screamed as it whirled aloft the spiral columns of dust; the wave-like drift of the sand surged on either side; but for the moment he was safe.
He had been told that such tempests were of but short duration, and yet it seemed to him as if already half a day had been spent in this fight for life.
Then he said to himself that he could remain where he was in safety until the wind had subsided; but even as the words were formed in his mind he was conscious of a weight upon his limbs as if something was bearing him down, and for the first time he realized that he was being rapidly buried alive.
To remain where he was ten minutes longer must be fatal; and perhaps even that length of time would not be allowed him, for if the wind so shifted as to cut off the top of the mound, then he would be overwhelmed as if in a landslide.
There was nothing for it but to go into the conflict once more; and in this second effort the odds would be still greater against him, because his courage was lessened.
He knew the danger which menaced, and the suffering he would have to endure the instant he rose from behind the poor shelter; yet it was necessary, and the boy staggered to his feet.
There was nothing to guide him in the right direction, for all around was blackness and flying grit; yet he believed his way lay directly in the teeth of the storm, and because of such belief pressed onward, resolving that he would continue as long as was possible.
As he said to himself so he did, staggering this way and that, but ever pressing forward on the course which he believed to be the true one, blinded, choking, bewildered by the swirling particles until he was dimly conscious of falling, and then he knew no more.
At the moment Dick fell vanquished, hardly more than a quarter of a mile distant were two men mounted on Indian ponies, and leading three burros laden with a miner's outfit for prospecting.
To them the sand-storms of the desert were not strange; and with the knowledge born of experience they made preparations for "riding out the gale," when the low, dark cloud first appeared in the eastern horizon.
The animals were fastened with their heads together; the riders bending forward in the saddles, and, as well as it could be accomplished, throwing over all the heads a number of blankets.
The two horsemen had taken the precaution while assuming this position to present their backs to the wind, and each had tied one end of his blanket around his waist in such manner that it could not be stripped off by the tempest.
Two or three blankets were fastened to the heads of the animals, and thus the faces of all were protected.
When the sand had whirled around them until the animals were buried nearly to their bellies, the riders forced the bunch onward ten or fifteen paces, continuing to make this change of location at least every five minutes during the entire time the tempest raged; and thus it was they escaped being buried in the downpour of sand.