They came to the desert—a vast expanse of gray and brown sand, where water was so scarce that it was sometimes sold at the railroad stations. There was very little of interest to be seen along the way; now and again they noticed the dried-up carcasses of sheep and cattle which had probably been killed in the severe storms that raged in the winter. Once they had to stop for a long freight train, whose conductor waved friendly greetings, pleased it seemed, to see some human beings in this lonely place. And many times the girls noticed the remains of former camps.
Food and water were both scarce, so they held on to what they had, fearful lest their former misfortune might be repeated. But, when they had been travelling steadily forward for two days across the desert without any signs of being molested, they began to feel that they would go the rest of the way in safety.
“Wouldn’t it be great if we could drive up to the ranch,” observed Marjorie, as they passed over the ground nearly south of it. “Only two years ago—”
“Ah, if we only had the time!” sighed Ethel. “How I should love to see my old horse!”
“Well, we have five days,” Alice reminded them. “Why not use them?”
“Because something tells me that we shall need every single one of them yet,” responded Marjorie. “Whether it is fate, or whether Aunt Emeline actually has arranged obstacles for our path, it just seems as if we have so many delays to meet—”
“But how could Aunt Emeline do anything?” interrupted Alice. “Remember her age!”
“Well, anyway, we’re not wasting any time! We’ve kept all the other regulations—not taken help from any men, and lived within our allowance, and worn our uniforms all the time—we mustn’t slip up on our time. So let’s go as straight as we can to San Francisco!”
“Marjorie,” put in Mrs. Remington, “don’t you think we had better stop soon? It’s getting dark, and you know how hard it is to make camp without being able to see what we are doing.”
“Besides,” added Alice, “I’m about starved.”