"Okay with me. Let's go."
Scotty put the jeep in gear and they rolled swiftly down to the level of the dry lake bed and toward Steamboat. A few minutes later they entered the town.
Rick inspected the buildings with care. It looked like the setting for a Western motion picture, except for the lack of people and horses, and the lack of paint. He identified a pair of stores, a two-story building that could only have been a hotel, a livery stable, and several buildings without identification of any kind. There was only one street, and they were on it. Nowhere was there a sign of life. Then they were through the town, and the road climbed gently toward the foothills.
Scotty held the jeep at a steady speed for over a mile. As the road gradually curved around a rock outcropping, he said, "Look behind and tell me when the town is out of sight."
Rick turned in his seat in time to see Steamboat vanish behind the outcropping. "Now."
Scotty brought the jeep to a halt. "The road should fork pretty soon, shouldn't it?"
"That's right. Left fork to Pahrump Valley, right fork to Death Valley."
"Let's hit the ditch." Scotty reached down and put the jeep into four-wheel drive, then turned left off the road.
The bottom of the dry wash was alternately sandy and studded with boulders. Scotty picked his way with care, but it was a rough ride. Once or twice he stopped while Rick climbed the slope of the wash for a survey of the situation. Finally they pulled to a halt and both boys reconnoitered ahead, to find a good way out of the wash and onto the road. Satisfied that getting from the wash onto level ground would pose no problems, they turned off the jeep engine and settled down to wait.
Again, Rick felt the futility of what they were doing. They might wait for weeks without ever seeing another human being.