Part 6 (1/2)
”What's the matter with you two, you mean? Why, you dashed off like a girl in a red sweater with a bull on her heels.”
”I tole you ther ponies ran away,” said Summers, s.h.i.+fting his little eyes. Somehow he couldn't look Bellew in the face.
”Yes, and I guess what made 'em run was suthin' like this--”
A quizzical look stole over Bellew's lean, handsome features. All at once the air became filled with the same mysterious sounds that had so alarmed Summers and the other man.
”Ye-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-ow-w-w-w-w-w-e-e-eeeee!”
”Buck! You consarned old ventriloconquest!” shouted Summers, vastly relieved as Bellew burst into a roar of hearty laughter.
”Forgot I used to be ventriloquist with a medicine show, eh?”
chuckled Bellew, rolling about in his saddle. ”Come in handy sometimes, don't it?”
”Waal, next time yer goin' ter practice, jes' let us know in advance.”
Summers' face held rather a sheepish grin as he spoke. The black-mustached man looked even more foolish.
”Make a good signal, wouldn't it?” asked Bellew presently.
”Yes. By the way, reckon you could imitate a coyote, Buck?”
”Easy. Listen!”
A perfect imitation of a coyote's yapping, hyena-like cry rang out.
”Great. Maybe we can use that sometime.”
How soon that cry was to be used, and to what disastrous effect on our little party of adventurers, we shall see as our story progresses. But the next time Buck Bellew gave that thrilling, spine-tightening cry, was to be under far different circ.u.mstances, and with far different results--results fraught with great importance to our young adventurers.
CHAPTER V
THE DIVINING RODS
”What wonderful clouds. They remind one of the fantastic palaces of the Arabian Nights!” exclaimed Miss Prescott.
It was at the close of the noonday halt that she spoke, reclining with the rest of the party under a canvas shelter, beneath which lunch had been eaten.
Off to the southwest the clouds she referred to had been, in fact, gathering for some time. Domed, terraced and pinnacled, they rose in gloomy grandeur on the far horizon. But Miss Prescott had not been the first to notice them. For some reason Mr. Bell, after gazing at the vaporous ma.s.ses for a few minutes, looked rather troubled. He summoned Juan, who was feeding his beloved burro, and waved his hand toward the clouds, the same time speaking rapidly in Spanish.
”What is it? Is there a storm coming?” asked Jess, noting Mr.
Bell's somewhat troubled look.
”I do not know, and Juan says he is not certain yet either,” was the response. ”Let us hope not, however.”
”I don't see why it should trouble us,” said Peggy. ”We have good tents and shelter, and as far as a good wetting is concerned I should think it would do this dried up place a lot of good.”
”That is not what was worrying me,” confessed Mr. Bell with a smile; ”if it was to be an ordinary Eastern storm I should not mind any more than you. But the desert has many moods--as many as--you will pardon me--a young lady. Even the storms of the Big Alkali are not like others. They are dry storms.”