CHAPTER XXV.
INTO THE BEYOND.
"Well, this is something like camping," said Tom that evening, stretching himself out luxuriously under a mesquite bush.
"See here, young feller," said Zeb, who by unanimous consent had been put in charge of the adventurers. "Are you on a pleasure trip, jes' dropped in as a visitor like, or air you a part of this expedition?"
"I guess I'm a part of it all right," said Tom, with rather a sheepish grin. "At least I was under that impression."
"Same here," said Zeb dryly. "Thar's lots to be done yet afore we're all shipshape fer ther night. Ther's lamps ter be filled and tent ropes set right an' then I want a trench dug around ther tents."
"What's the trench for?" asked Jack, who had been busy with the three tents, for they had decided on Zeb's advice not to use the old roofless shack to sleep in.
"No tellin' what kind of varmints, from skunks to rattlers, ain't makin' a hotel out of it," he said, "not to mention tarant'las, which has a most unpleasant bite, and scorpions and centipedes that ain't much nicer bedfellows."
This was quite enough to make the boys willing, nay anxious, to set up the waterproof silk tents.
"What's the trench for?" asked Zeb. "Well, if it should come on ter rain in ther night it'll keep us dry to have a trench round each tent."
"Rain!" exclaimed Tom incredulously. "Why, it doesn't look as if it ever rained here."
"It doesn't, not more'n about two inches a year," rejoined Zeb, "but when it does you'd think ther flood gates uv heaven had been ripped wide open."
"Do you think it will rain to-night?" asked Jack.
"It looks uncommon like it," answered Zeb. "See them clouds off there yonder?"
He pointed to some heavy-looking masses of vapor hanging above a dim range of saw-backed mountains off to the east.
"In my opinion they're plum full of rain," he said.
"In that case we'd better get ready with the trenches," declared Jack. He picked up one shovel and gave another to Tom. The latter made a wry face but said nothing. Tom liked hard work no better than most boys, but he realized that the work had to be done, and so tackled it with the best grace he could.
Secretly he wished himself to be with Dick Donovan, who had been assigned to go fishing to see if he couldn't get "something" fresh for supper. The professor, as usual, was off somewhere collecting specimens.
But the task of digging the trenches was not as arduous as it had appeared. The sand was soft and yielding, and the shovels made rapid work with it. Soon a fairly deep trench was dug round each of the temporary shelters.
By the time the lanterns had been filled, and Zeb had cut a goodly stack of mesquite wood, everything was ready to begin preparations for supper.
"We'll have a blow-out to-night," said Zeb. "Canned salmon, beans, crackers, cheese and canned fruit, but don't expect to get that right along. I've lived on beans and bacon for six months in this very neck of the woods, and thought myself lucky to get that."
"Hullo!" came a cry from the direction of the river.
"There's Dick!" exclaimed both boys, and then as the young reporter came into sight, "What luck, Dick?"
"What do you know about this?" and Dick held up a fine string of glittering fish. There were catfish, perch and two eels.
"Good; we won't go hungry," said Zeb. "Nothing better than fried eels and catfish."
He greased the frying pan with a strip of bacon rind and then skinned the scaleless catfish and eels as if he had been doing nothing else all his life. Soon the savory odors of the frying with crisp slices of bacon, and the aroma of coffee, filled the camp.
The boys were so busy setting out the tin cups and plates that it was not till Zeb beat on a tin basin with a spoon to announce that the evening meal was ready that anyone noticed that the professor was missing. Night was closing in and the sky was overcast.
The boys began to worry. They set up a loud shout.
"Pro-fess-or! Oh, pro-fess-or!"
The little gulch rang with it. But no answer came.
"Now what in the world has happened to him?" frowned Jack. "We must go and find him at once. He must have——"
The sentence was never completed. At that instant Zeb set up a shout, and a ton of earth and rocks, more or less, came hurtling down the steep bank into the camp. The stones and dirt were mingled with mesquite bushes and in the midst of the landslide was a figure that they made out to be the professor.
Luckily, the avalanche had missed the camp-fire and the supper table, and when they had extricated the professor, and brushed him off, the boys learned that he had almost missed his way, and being shortsighted, in the dark had walked right over the edge of the steepest part of the arroyo instead of by a sloping path up above.
However, nothing was injured about him but his feelings, and since his bag of specimens was intact, the man of science, after a few minutes, was able to sit down and eat with as good an appetite as any of them.
Zeb proved himself a good weather profit. About midnight it started raining, and such rain as the boys had never seen. It was not rain. It was sheets of water. Even the waterproof tents began to leak, and the fact that the trenches had been dug did not serve to keep the floors dry, for the hard, sun-baked earth did not absorb the moisture, and the downpour speedily spread half an inch or more of water over the ground.
"Turn out! turn out!" shouted Dick, who shared one of the three tents with the boys.
"What's the matter?" began Tom sleepily, and then splash! went his hand into the water.
"Gracious, has the river overflowed?" demanded Jack.
"No, but it's raining handsaws and marlin spikes," cried Dick. "Wow! my bed's wet through."
"Same here," cried Jack ruefully. "I guess we'd better get out of this."
Outside they found the professor hopping about barefooted in the water. He had on his pajamas with a blanket thrown round his shoulders for protection against the rain. The boys, despite their discomfort, could not help laughing at the odd figure. Zeb joined them, grumbling: "We made a big mistake in camping in this arroyo.
I ought to have had better sense. It's nothing more nor less than a river. All the desert up above is draining into it."
It was true. The water was almost ankle deep. Luckily, the old shanty in which their supplies were stored was raised above the ground, and the goods were all covered with a big waterproof canvas.
"Let's camp out in the shanty till daylight," suggested Jack.
"That would be a good idea if it had a roof," commented Zeb dryly.
"Why can't we spread some of the canvas over us?" asked Tom.
This was finally done, and thus passed most of their first night on the desert. Yet none of them complained, but made the best of it. The boys knew that it is the wisest plan to meet all camping mishaps with a smiling face.
By morning the rain had ceased. The sky was clear and the sun shone brightly. Their wet bedding and garments were soon dried and then the work of unpacking the sections of the Wondership was begun, for they were anxious to have the job completed and be on their way as soon as possible.
Old McGee had told the truth when he said they would not be molested.
An old Indian jogging by on a spavined horse and wrapped in a dirty blanket was the only person they saw all day. He was looking along the arroyo for a strayed burro. He stared at them in stolid silence for a while and then rode off, shaking his head. No doubt he was at a loss to account for such strange goings on.
That evening when Dick took his line down to the river, he met with unusually good luck. He had just added a fine carp to his pile of fish when, chancing to look up, he saw a boat coming round the bend.
In the craft were three figures, one of whom he recognized instantly as Masterson. The recognition was mutual and Masterson, who had the oars, started hastily to pull away from the place. But Dick shouted to him.
"Don't let me drive you away," he cried.
Masterson shouted back something about "fresh kid" but kept pulling up the stream, and soon he was round the bend and out of sight.
"Now, I wonder what he is doing out here?" mused Dick, "and those two cronies of his. They look sort of shady to me."
He cudgeled his brains to find a reason for the presence of Masterson so far from home, but was unable to arrive at any solution till an idea suddenly struck him.
"They're out here trailing us," he muttered. "Yes, I'm sure of it. But how in the world did they ever learn our plans? I guess I'll get back to camp and put the rest on their guard, for we don't want any spies hanging about, and those fellows were out on a spying expedition or I miss my guess."