"I look like a piece of human sandpaper, don't I?" muttered Stacy ruefully, as he carefully drew on his clothes. "Every time I sit down I'll remember that hot ice water."
CHAPTER XII
RUNNING DOWN THE TRAIL
"Thank goodness, we're in the foothills," sighed Tad, when three days later they came to a halt at the base of the San Antonio Range far down on the Nevada Desert.
"Yes, it is a relief to see some real rocks once more," agreed Walter. "Chunky, look out that you don't step into any more ice water. You'll miss the horse-hunt if you do."
"No danger of that up here," laughed the guide.
Behind them lay the desert maze, to the right and left, mountain ranges, high plateaux, mesas and buttes. Giant yucca trees, short, spreading piñon and spindling cedars clothed the higher peaks of the San Antonio Range.
Trees, too, were scattered about in the foothills, and though they gave little shade it was a relief to every sense of the Pony Riders to feel the hills and trees about them.
There, with what little shade they could get, the lads made camp. As yet they had found no water, though Parry said there would be springs in plenty further up in the mountains. The bags still held enough to last them until the following day, so no effort was made to locate fresh water that afternoon.