Dick in the Desert

by James Otis

  CHAPTER III.

  A SAND-STORM.

  In this proposal to retire thus early Mrs. Stevens saw nothing toexcite her suspicions regarding Dick's real intentions.

  He had worked for thirty-six hours almost incessantly; and it wouldnot be strange if this unusual exertion, together with the wearinesscaused by excitement, had brought him to the verge of exhaustion.

  His mother would have insisted upon bringing out one of the well-wornblankets, but that Dick was decidedly opposed to taking anything fromthe wagon which might in the slightest degree contribute to hisfather's comfort.

  "I'm very well off on the bare ground, and with the wagon to shelterme from the dew I couldn't be better fixed. Our poor old man needs allwe've got, mother; and you may be sure I won't lay awake thinking ofthe feather-beds we had at Willow Point, 'cause it's about as much asI can do to keep my eyes open."

  "You are a dear good boy, and God will reward you. In addition tosaving your father's life, for that is what you've done this day, youhave lightened my burden until it would be wicked to repine."

  "I'll risk your ever doing anything very wicked, mother; and if thetime comes when it seems to you as though I don't do exactly as youwant 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 thatwe have food in camp, I can do all that will be necessary."

  Then Dick's mother kissed him again, not leaving him until he hadstretched out at full length under the wagon; and so tired was the boythat Mrs. Stevens had hardly got back to take up her duties as nursewhen his loud breathing told that he was asleep.

  When Dick awakened it was still dark; but he believed, because he nolonger felt extremely weary, that the night was nearly spent; and forthe success of his plan it was of the utmost importance he should setout before his mother was astir.

  It was his purpose to travel on foot to Antelope Spring, a distance inan air-line of about forty-five miles, fifteen of which would beacross the upper portion of Smoke Creek Desert.

  In this waste of sand lay all the danger of the undertaking. Thenumber of miles to be travelled troubled him but little, for more thanonce had he walked nearly as far in a single day while hunting; and heproposed to spend thirty-six hours on each stage of the journey.

  Creeping cautiously out from under the wagon, he fastened his letterto the flap of the canvas covering in such a manner that his mothercould not fail to see it when she first came out; and then he wrappedin leaves several slices of broiled venison, after which he stowedthem 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 adozen cartridges, and then took up his rifle, handling it almostlovingly; for this, his only valuable possession, he intended to partwith in order to secure what might be necessary for his father'srelief and comfort.

  The weapon was slung over his back where it would not impede hismovements; and with a single glance backward he set out with a long,swinging stride such as he knew by experience he could maintain formany hours.

  It was still dark when he had crossed the fertile meadows, and arrivedat the border of an apparently limitless expanse of yellow sand.

  Here it would not be possible to maintain the pace at which he hadstarted, because of the loose sand in which his feet sank to the depthof an inch at each step.

  Having set out at such an early hour, this boy, who was perilling hislife in the hope of aiding his father, believed the more dangerousportion of the journey might be accomplished before the heat of theday 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 theknowledge that one-fifth of the distance across the sands had alreadybeen traversed.

  At the end of the next hour he said to himself that he must be nearlymidway on the road of sand; and although the labor of walking was mostsevere, his heart was very light.

  "Once across, I'll push on as fast as any fellow can walk," he saidaloud, as if the sound of his own voice gave him cheer. "By making anextra effort I ought to be in Antelope Spring before midnight, andhave plenty of time to sleep between now and morning. Half a day thereto sell the rifle, an' buy what is needed, an' by sunset I should beat the edge of the desert again, ready to make this part of the trampafter 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 withwhat was to be gained by the making of it.

  He thought of his mother as she read the note he had left on the flapof the wagon-covering, and wondered if she looked upon his departureas an act of disobedience, which, in fact, it was, since both hisparents had insisted he should not attempt it.

  Then his thoughts went out to his father, and he told over in his mindall the questions he would ask of the doctor at Antelope Spring; forhe 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 hesaw in the distance what appeared to be a low-hanging cloud; then hesaid to himself that if a shower should spring up the sun's face wouldbe covered, and the heat, which was now very great, must be lessened.

  As this cloud advanced, descending to the sands while it rose towardthe heavens, it grew more black; and on either side were long columnsof seeming vapor rising, and as rapidly disappearing.

  Then across the darkness on that portion of the horizon somethingbright moved swiftly, as if a flash of lightning had passed over theface of the cloud; and in an instant the sun and the sky were shut outfrom view.

  Now the clouds took on the appearance of a dense black fog, coming upfrom the southward over the desert, until Dick was seemingly lookingat a gigantic wall, over the face of which shone now and then brightflashes of light.

  There was a shrieking and moaning in the air, so it seemed to thestartled boy; and he failed to understand the meaning of this strangescene, until, the impenetrable wall having come so near, he could seethat what appeared like flashes of light were gigantic columns of sandspringing high in the air with fantastic shapes, and glinted by thesun from above the apparent vapor, until they were swallowed up in theenormous bank of cloud behind them.

  Then it was Dick knew the meaning of this terrible danger whichthreatened him.

  It was a storm of sand. "Dancing giants" some have termed it, andothers speak of it as the "hot blizzard."

  As if in an instant the dancing, swirling columns and the rushingcloud 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 ofthunder.

  Dick halted, terrified, bewildered; and as he came to a standstill, itseemed to him that the clouds on every hand lowered until he could seethe blue sky above. Then with a shriek from the wind the very sandbeneath 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 particlessought out every inch of his body, and his clothing afforded butlittle protection.

  The sand penetrated his ears and nostrils, and burned his lips untilthey bled.

  He had heard it said that to remain motionless in such a tempest meansdeath; for wherever the wind meets with an obstruction, there it pilesthe sand in huge mounds, and his father had told of more than onehunter 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 himwith a fury which it was difficult to withstand. It was as if the windswept in upon him from every point of the compass--as if he was thecentre of this whirling, dancing, blin
ding, 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 itwas with difficulty he could breathe.

  Despite the protection he sought to give, his eyes were inflamed, andthe lids cruelly swollen.

  He sank ankle-deep at every step, and above him and around him thewild blasts shrieked, until there were times when he feared lest heshould be thrown from his feet.

  Pulling his hat down over his aching eyes, the bewildered, terrifiedboy tried to gain some relief from the thirst which assailed him.

  He understood that the contents of his canteen must be guardedjealously; for if he lived there were still several miles of thedesert journey to be traversed, and the walking would be even moredifficult than before the storm set in, because of the shifting sand.

  His distress rendered him reckless; and regardless of the future, hedrank fully half the water in the canteen, bathing his eyes with asmall quantity poured in the hollow of his hand.

  It would have been better if he had not tried to find relief by thislast method, for the flying particles of sand adhered to such portionsof his face as were wet, forming a coating over the skin almostinstantly.

  He attempted to brush it off, and the gritty substance cut into hisflesh as if he had rubbed it with emery-paper.

  Then came into Dick's mind the thought that he should never more seehis parents on this earth, and for the instant his courage so fardeserted him that he was on the point of flinging himself facedownward upon the sand.

  Fortunately there appeared before his mental vision a picture of hisfather lying in the wagon with the certainty that death would comeunless his son could bring relief, and this nerved the boy to yetgreater exertion.

  With his arms over his face, he pushed forward once more, not knowingwhether he might be retracing his steps, or proceeding in the properdirection.

  Every inch of advance was made against the fierce wind and driftingsand which nearly overthrew him.

  Every breath he drew was choked with dust.

  How long he thus literally fought against the elements it wasimpossible for him so much as to conjecture.

  He knew his strength was spending rapidly; and when it seemed as if hecould not take another step, he stumbled, and fell against a mound ofsand.

  It had been built by the "dancing giants" when some obstruction hadbeen found in the path of the storm; and as Dick fell prostrate at thefoot of this slight elevation, there instantly came a sense of deepestrelief.

  The sand was no longer thrown against him by the blast; the wind hadceased to buffet him; he was in comparative quiet, and for an instanthe 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 fromone direction instead of in a circle as heretofore; and a ferventprayer of thanksgiving went up from his heart, for he believed hislife had been saved that he might aid his father.

  After recovering in a measure from the exhaustion consequent upon hisbattle with the elements, he proceeded with infinite care to brush theparticles of sand from his face; and this done, his relief was yetgreater.

  Overhead the air was full of darkness; the wind still screamed as itwhirled aloft the spiral columns of dust; the wave-like drift of thesand surged on either side; but for the moment he was safe.

  He had been told that such tempests were of but short duration, andyet it seemed to him as if already half a day had been spent in thisfight for life.

  Then he said to himself that he could remain where he was in safetyuntil the wind had subsided; but even as the words were formed in hismind he was conscious of a weight upon his limbs as if something wasbearing him down, and for the first time he realized that he was beingrapidly buried alive.

  To remain where he was ten minutes longer must be fatal; and perhapseven that length of time would not be allowed him, for if the wind soshifted as to cut off the top of the mound, then he would beoverwhelmed as if in a landslide.

  There was nothing for it but to go into the conflict once more; and inthis 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 toendure the instant he rose from behind the poor shelter; yet it wasnecessary, and the boy staggered to his feet.

  There was nothing to guide him in the right direction, for all aroundwas blackness and flying grit; yet he believed his way lay directly inthe 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, butever pressing forward on the course which he believed to be the trueone, blinded, choking, bewildered by the swirling particles until hewas dimly conscious of falling, and then he knew no more.

  At the moment Dick fell vanquished, hardly more than a quarter of amile distant were two men mounted on Indian ponies, and leading threeburros laden with a miner's outfit for prospecting.

  To them the sand-storms of the desert were not strange; and with theknowledge born of experience they made preparations for "riding out thegale," when the low, dark cloud first appeared in the eastern horizon.

  The animals were fastened with their heads together; the ridersbending forward in the saddles, and, as well as it could beaccomplished, throwing over all the heads a number of blankets.

  The two horsemen had taken the precaution while assuming this positionto present their backs to the wind, and each had tied one end of hisblanket around his waist in such manner that it could not be strippedoff by the tempest.

  Two or three blankets were fastened to the heads of the animals, andthus the faces of all were protected.

  When the sand had whirled around them until the animals were buriednearly to their bellies, the riders forced the bunch onward ten orfifteen paces, continuing to make this change of location at leastevery five minutes during the entire time the tempest raged; and thusit was they escaped being buried in the downpour of sand.

  From the time the first blast struck Dick, until the "dancing giants"whirled away to the westward, leaving the sky unclouded and the yellowsands shimmering in the sunlight, no more than thirty minutes hadpassed; yet in that short interval one human life on which othersdepended would have been sacrificed, unless these two travellers whowere uninjured should chance to reach that exact spot where lay theboy partially covered by the desert's winding-sheet.

  "You can talk of a gale at sea where the sailors are half drowned allthe time; but it ain't a marker alongside of these 'ere red-hotblizzards, eh, Parsons?" one of the horsemen said as he threw off theblanket from his head with a long-drawn sigh of relief.

  "Drownin' must be mighty pleasant kind of fun alongside of chokin' todeath on account of bein' filled plum full with dry sand," Parsonsreplied. "I allow there ain't no call for us to stay here braggin'about our Nevada hurricanes, Tom Robinson, more especially since we'llmake less headway now the sand has been stirred up a bit."

  "There's nothin' to hold me here," Robinson replied with a laugh.

  Straightway the two men turned their ponies' heads toward the west;and as they advanced the patient burros, laden with a miscellaneousassortment of goods until little else than their heads and tails couldbe seen, followed steadily in the rear.

  Five minutes after they had resumed their journey Parsons cried, as heraised himself in the stirrups, shading his eyes with his hands as hepeered ahead,--

  "What's that 'ere bit of blue out there? Part of somebody's outfit? orwas there a shipwreck close at hand?"

  "It's a man--most likely a tenderfoot, if he tried to walk across this'ere desert."

  The two halted, and Dick Stevens's life was saved.

  Had the storm lasted two or three minutes longer, or these prospectorsgone in any other direction, he must have died where he had fallen.

  Now he was
dragged out from beneath the weight of sand, and laid upona blanket, while the men, knowing by experience what should be done insuch cases, set about restoring the boy to consciousness.

  Thanks to the timely attention, Dick soon opened his eyes, staredaround him for an instant in bewilderment, and then exclaimed as hemade a vain attempt to rise,--

  "I come pretty near knockin' under, didn't I? The last I remember wasof fallin'."

  "I allow it was the closest shave you'll ever have agin," Parsonsreplied grimly; "an' I'm free to say that them as are sich fools as tocross this 'ere sand-barren afoot oughter stay on it, like as you werein a fair way of doin' before we come along."

  "An' that's what daddy would say, I s'pose. If he'd known what I wasgoin' to do, there would have been a stop put to it, even though itwas to save his life I came."

  "How can you save anybody's life by comin' out in sich a tom-fool wayas this? Less than a quart of water, and not so much as a blanket withwhich to protect yourself."

  "I can do it by goin' to Antelope Spring an' findin' a doctor," Dickreplied. "You see, daddy shot himself in the leg--stove a bone all topieces; and mother don't know what to do, so I slid off this mornin'without tellin' anybody."

  "Countin' on footin' it to Antelope Spring?" Parsons asked as if insurprise.

  "Yes; it ain't more'n forty-five miles the way we've reckoned it."

  "Where did you start from?"

  "Buffalo Meadows."

  "And when did you count on makin' that forty-five miles?"

  "I allowed to get there before midnight."

  "Where's your camp?"

  "Well, we haven't got anything you can rightly call a camp; but we'relocated in a prairie schooner near by the spring in the valley."

  "How many in the party?"

  "Daddy, mother, an' Margie."

  The two men looked at Dick an instant, and then glanced at each other,after which Parsons said emphatically,--

  "The boy has got grit; but the old man must have been way off to comethrough this section of the country in a wagon."

  Dick explained how it was they chanced to be travelling, and then,eager to gain all the information possible, asked,--

  "Do you know anything about Antelope Spring?"

  "Nothin' good. There's a settlement by that name; but it's ano-account place."

  "I s'pose I'll find a doctor?"

  "I reckon they've got somethin' of the kind hangin' 'round. But areyou countin' on draggin' one down to Buffalo Meadows?"

  "I don't expect to be so lucky. But mother seemed to have the ideathat if somebody who knew all about it would tell her how to take careof daddy's wound, she'd get along with such stuff as I could fetch tohelp him out in the fever. Say, I don't reckon either of you wants tobuy a good rifle? There ain't a better one on Humboldt River;" and ashe spoke Dick unslung the weapon which hung at his back.

  "What's your idea in sellin' the gun? It strikes me, if you'recountin' on pullin' through from Buffalo Meadows to Willow Point,you'll need it."

  "Of course I shall; but it's got to go. You see, daddy's dead broke, an'I must have money to pay for the doctor's stuff. I don't s'pose youwant it; but if you did, here's a good chance. If you don't buy I reckonthere'll be some one up to Antelope Spring who'll take it off my hands."

  "Haven't you got anything else you can put up, instead of lettin' therifle go? In this section of the country a tool like that will stand aman good agin starvation."

  "It's all I own that's worth anything, an' I'll be mighty sorry tolose it; but she's got to go."

  Again the men looked at the boy, then at each other; and Parsonsmotioned for his companion to follow him a short distance away, where,to Dick's great surprise, they began an animated conversation.