Faster and Faster Danced Ned Rector.
The Pony Rider Boys in the Alkali
OR
Finding a Key to the Desert Maze
By
FRANK GEE PATCHIN
Author of The Pony Rider Boys in The Rockies, The Pony Rider Boys in Texas, The Pony Rider Boys in Montana, The Pony Rider Boys in The Ozarks, Etc., Etc.
Illustrated
THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY Akron, Ohio ———— New York Made in U. S. A.
Copyright MCMX By THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY
CONTENTS
The Pony Rider Boys in the Alkali
CHAPTER I
THE DESERT'S MYSTIC SPELL
"If this is the desert, then I think I prefer mountains," decided Stacy Brown.
"It is not the desert. We have not reached it yet. This is the Diamond Range," replied Tom Parry, who was to guide the Pony Rider Boys across the great Nevada Desert. "We shall soon be there, however."
"You'll know the place when you see it, Chunky," said Ned Rector.
"And feel it, too, I guess," added Tad Butler under his breath.
"We have the desert on each side of us now," continued the guide. "Were you to fire a rifle to the right or left, your bullet would fall on the baking alkali of the desert."
"Then, if we're so near, why not get out in the open, instead of floundering through these hills?" questioned Stacy.
"I'm thinking you'll wish you were back in the hills before many days," laughed the guide.
"Mr. Parry has his own reasons for following this trail, Master Stacy," interposed Professor Zepplin. "We are entirely in his hands and it is not for us to question the wisdom of his decision."
The guide nodded.
Parry was a splendid type of the plainsman of the great West. Tall, straight, clear-eyed, his bronzed cheeks fairly glistening in the sunlight, he would have attracted attention anywhere. At present, he sat on his pony motionless, the broad sombrero tilted upward above his forehead as he peered into the amber haze that hung over the western horizon.
"Yes, we shall reach the desert soon enough. We are heading for the Newark Valley now, and should be there in time to make camp this afternoon, providing the weather is satisfactory," announced Parry, more to himself than to the others.
"Weather—weather?" stammered Professor Zepplin. "What's the matter with the weather?"
"One hundred in the shade. Isn't that matter enough?" grunted Stacy.
"How do you know, Chunky? You haven't seen any shade to-day," demanded Ned Rector. "There isn't a patch of shade as large as a man's hand in this whole country, so far as I have been able to observe."
"And still less in the country we are about to enter," added the guide.
Tad Butler, however, had been observing the guide keenly. Though the lad had asked no questions, he had caught a note of anxiety in the tone, as well as in the apprehensive glances that Parry kept continually casting to the westward. The guide, catching Tad's inquiring look, smiled and nodded.
