"But how about the story you say you are going to write about us," asked Alan.
"There wouldn't have been any story if it hadn't been for Mr. Napier," replied Bob. "And there isn't going to be one until he tells me to write it. It's up to him."
Ned was looking out of the window at the curious loungers standing in the street. He was thinking of the work yet to be done and of all the difficulties that the discomfited marshal might put in his way. It wasn't a "picnic proposition." He didn't fear for himself, but the thought of his expensive and delicate outfit and of how easily it might be irreparably injured was not reassuring.
"Russell," he said finally, "I think we need you. If you care to stay with us we'll be glad to have you. It isn't because I don't want to be bluffed by Jellup, but because you are game. If you'll go with Buck and Elmer, I'll try to make it worth your while—some time—and you shall be the historian of this expedition—when the time comes to write its story."
Am hour later the delayed overland expedition was on its way toward the desert. There had been a quick shopping expedition in the stores of Clarkeville and Bob Russell, in a new hat and boots and various other articles of clothing, most of them too large for him, sat proudly on the driver's seat of the second wagon. Around his waist was a new cartridge belt and holster carrying Ned's gift, a 44 revolver—"for game or rattlesnakes," as the boys expressed it, but the weapon was not concealed when the little cavalcade traversed the main street of the town, and if Jellup was an onlooker Ned felt sure that the outwitted marshal would think twice before again molesting the expedition.
"All set," laughed Bob, as the final farewells had been said, and he held up his camera, "now for the real thing."
Ned and Alan were now alone. To tell the truth, the excitement of the morning had been rather trying for them, but if it left them a trifle nervous they soon forgot their apprehension in making the last of the transfer. There was now another reason for abandoning the car. With headquarters established in the corral they would be near the balloon and its equipment, and if Jellup should permit his ill will to develop into some overt act, they would be in a position more easily to protect themselves. For that reason a number of their "greaser" assistants were taken to the car before noon and the hydrogen cask was loaded on the small wagon and carefully freighted to the corral. Then followed the remainder of the provisions and the personal belongings of the boys. Early in the afternoon the Placida was closed and turned over to the railway agent.