Part 24 (1/2)

Before they were thoroughly aware of it, so swiftly had the actual escape happened, Peggy and Roy found themselves moving out of the valley on their desperate dash for freedom. The ponies went silently as wraiths. The astute Ah Sing had bundled their feet in sacks so that they made no more noise than cats.

In the faint light they could perceive the gateway of the little valley, and in a short time they had pa.s.sed it and were beginning to traverse the gloomy stretches beyond. Suddenly there came a sound that sent every drop of blood in their bodies flying to their hearts, and then set it to coursing wildly through their veins again.

Bang!

The report, coming from behind them, cut the stillness of the night like a scimitar of sound.

”A pistol!” exclaimed Roy. ”They've discovered our escape.”

Peggy shuddered. Bending forward at the risk of the noise of their flight being heard, they began to urge their ponies faster. Behind them was pandemonium. Shouts, cries and shots mingled in a babel of sound.

”The kids hev got away!” That cry sounded above all the others, and then, with sinister meaning, came another shout:

”Saddle up and git arter 'em. Get 'em, dead or alive!”

Sounds of galloping followed this order, and then came the shrill voice of Ah Sing:

”Me see um. Me see um. They go that way! Over there! Over the hills!”

”Good for Ah Sing,” breathed Roy; ”he has thrown them off the track.

He's told them we went the other way. Come on, sis; now's our time to make speed before they discover their mistake.”

The two fugitives urged their ponies unmercifully over the shale.

Fortunately, in the rarefied air of the desert, the nights are comparatively cool, and the tough little broncos sped along at a good gait without showing signs of distress. But it was a cruel race across the floor of the desolate valley, and when they e merged on to the comparatively easy going of the foothills of the barren range, the ponies were fain to slack up and draw long heaving breaths.

”Poor little creatures,” cried Peggy; ”you've got a long way to go yet.”

By the moon, which showed through the haze in a sort of luminous patch, Roy gauged the way. Peggy's observations, too, made on the journey into the valley, helped. They kept the pinnacled steeps of the barren hills to their right and pressed forward among the undulating foothills. They had been traveling thus for perhaps an hour-pausing now and then to listen for sounds of pursuit when Roy suddenly became sensible of a change in the atmosphere. It grew warm and close and almost sticky. A puff of hot wind breathed up in their faces and went screaming off among the mysterious clefts and canyons above.

”Are we going to have a storm?” wondered Peggy.

”Don't know, sis, but the weather looks ominous. I don't like that wind. We must make more speed.”

”I hate to drive these poor ponies any faster,” protested Peggy

”But we must, sis. They'll have a good long rest when this is over.

Come on.”

So saying Roy brought down his quirt--the long raw-hide whip used in the West--over the heaving flanks of his pony. The little animal gamely responded and plunged forward at a quick lope. Peggy, perforce, followed suit, although it made her heart ache to press the animals at such a gait.

On and on they rode, while the weather every moment grew more peculiar. From the floor of the desert great dust-devils of white alkali arose and swirled solemnly across the wastes. In the semi-darkness they looked like gaunt ghosts. Peggy shuddered. It was like a nightmare. Once or twice she even pinched herself to see if she were awake.

The night, from being cool, had now become blisteringly hot. The wind was like the fiery exhalations of a blast furnace. Grains of sand caught up by it drove stingingly against their faces. Each grain cut into the flesh, smarting sharply.

”We must keep on.”

It was Roy's voice, coming after a long silence.