CHAPTER XII
THE WATER THIEVES
It was an hour or more later when, having inspected the aeroplane and marveled much thereat, the horse hunters arose to take their leave. They would have to press on, they explained, to reach the rendezvous of the wild horses in the San Pablo range. These hills lay far to the northeast. Bud perspiringly made the farewell speech.
"Thankin' you one and all," he began, with perhaps a vague recollection of the last circus he had seen, and there he stopped short.
"Anyhow we thanks you," he said, getting a fresh start and jerking the words out as if they had been shots from a revolver. "It ain't every day we has a pleasure like this here hes bin—"
"Hooray!" yelled the other horse hunters, who, already mounted, stood behind their leader at the edge of the willows.
"An'—an'—wall, ther desert hes dangers uv its own an' if at any time Bud Reynolds er ther boys kin help yer out send fer them to ther San Pablo Range and if we're thar we'll be with yer ter ther last bank uv ther last ditch."
With a sigh of relief Bud flung himself upon his pony and drove the spurs home. Amidst a tornado of yells and shouts the rest, waving their sombreros wildly, dashed off after him. In a few moments they were only a cloud of dust on the alkali.
"I declare I feel kind of sad now they're gone," said Miss Sally after an interval of silence.
"Rough diamonds," opined old Mr. Bell guardedly.
"But they've got warm, big hearts," stoutly declared Peggy. "I wish—"
She stopped abruptly.
"Wish what, Peggy dear?" asked Jess, noting the troubled look that had crept over her chum's face.
"Oh, nothing at all," rejoined Peggy. But she was not speaking the whole truth, for the girl had been thinking what a bulwark of strength Bud and his followers would have been against the vague menace of Red Bill.
It was late that night—after midnight as well as Peggy could judge—that she was awakened by Jess bending over her cot in the tent that both girls shared.
"O-h-h! Peggy, Peggy! I'm frightened!" wailed the girl aviator's chum.
"Frightened? Of what dear?" asked Peggy wide awake in an instant.
"I—I don't just know," quavered Jess, "but, Oh, Peggy, you'll think I'm an awful 'fraid cat, but I'm absolutely certain I heard footsteps, stealthy footsteps outside just now."
"Nonsense, girlie. It must have been a nightmare," rejoined Peggy with sharp assurance.
"I might have thought so," went on Jess, "but I looked out through the flap of the tent to make sure and I'm certain as that I'm standing here now that I saw some figures on horseback over by the water hole."
"Perhaps another party of horse hunters," suggested Peggy soothingly.
"But, Peggy dear, they made hardly any noise. That is, the horses I mean. I heard men's footsteps, but after a minute they mounted and rode off, and—oh, it was too ghostly for anything—they made no noise at all."
"You mean you couldn't hear any sound of the ponies' hoofs?" asked
Peggy incredulously.
"No, they moved in absolute silence. Peggy, you don't think it was anything supernatural, do you?"
For answer Peggy drew her revolver from under her pillow and tiptoed to the tent flap. It faced the water hole and in the bright white moonlight a clear view of it could be obtained. But after a prolonged scrutiny Jess's plucky chum was unable to make out any objects other than the usual ones appertaining to the camp.
"Imagination, my dear," she said, with positiveness. But Jess still shuddered and seemed under the influence of some strange fear.
"It was not imagination, Peggy. It wasn't it really wasn't."
"Well, we'll look in the morning and if we find tracks we shall know that you are right, and we'll get the boys back for a while anyhow," reassured Peggy.
But in the morning it was Alverado who came to the tent and in an excited voice asked to see "missee" at once.
Peggy hastily completed dressing and emerged, leaving Jess still asleep. Something warned her that it would be best not to arouse her chum just then.
"What is it, Alverado?" she asked, as the Mexican, betraying every mark of agitation, hastened to her side.
"Santa Maria, missee," breathed the Mexican, "water almost all gone!"
"The water is almost all gone?" quavered Peggy, beginning to sense what was coming.
"Yes, missee. Me go there this morning and—Madre de Dios—the water hole almost empty."
"Were there any tracks?" inquired Peggy anxiously.
"Plenty tracks, but the man's had the cavallos' feet bundled in sacks so make no noise—leave no tracks."
"Let me have a look."
With Alverado at her side Peggy hastened toward the water hole. She could hardly repress an exclamation of alarm as she gazed at the hole. Bare six inches of muddy water was on the bottom, where the day before there had been a foot or more. All about were vague blotty-looking tracks which showed plainly enough the manner in which the marauders had concealed all noise of their movements. The muffled hoofs would naturally give forth no sound.
"So Jess was right after all," breathed Peggy softly; "but who could have done such a thing? And why?"
But the latter question had not framed itself in her mind before it was answered. Without water they would not be able to exist at Steer Wells for twenty-four hours. A retreat would be equally impracticable. It was all horribly clear. The theft of the water was the first step in a deliberate plan to drive them out. The motive, too, was plain enough in the light of the overheard conversation at the National Hotel. The men who wanted Mr. Bell's mine had waited till he had located it before striking their first blow. What would their next be? Peggy's pulses throbbed and the grove seemed to blur for an instant. But the next moment she was mistress of herself again. Clearly there was only one thing to do. Lay the whole matter before Mr. Bell.
"Alverado," said Peggy quietly, "after breakfast I am going to the range over yonder. You must guard the camp."
"Yes, missee," replied the Mexican; "I take care of him with—with my life."'
"I am sure you will," said Peggy in her most matter-of-fact tones, "and in the mean time say nothing to anyone else about what you have found. Bring up the water for breakfast yourself and don't let Mr. Bell come near the water hole if you can help it."
"It shall be as the senorita wishes," rejoined Alverado in low tones; but there was a ring in his voice that told Peggy that she could trust the brown-skinned "Mestizo" to the utmost.