"I don't feel as eager minded as I did about Indian writings, do you?"
"Well," replied Roger, stopping to wipe the sand from his face and to grin at Charley. "I wasn't eager about the hieroglyphics to begin with. I haven't taken a girl for a walk for years and I thought this was my chance!"
"How is your enthusiasm for that standing up?" chuckled Charley.
Roger cleared his throat. "You see, it's like this—" he began, his eyes twinkling.
Charley interrupted by catching his arm. "Look, Roger! There's a sand storm coming!"
Roger looked up the desert to the north. The familiar gray veil of sand was plainly visible. "Lord!" he exclaimed. "We'd better start back at once."
"No, we're within a mile of the spring, now," said Charley. "We'd better get there as fast as we can. I do hope Gustav and Elsa will be all right. That poor new field of alfalfa!"
"Perhaps it won't be so bad in the other valley. Certainly this sand is going to try its best to suffocate us. Whew, there she comes!" as a cloud of sand enveloped them.
They paused long enough to adjust their bandannas across their faces, then started hurriedly on, Roger holding Charley by the hand and catching Peter's lead rope firmly. In ten minutes the peak toward which they were heading was obscured.
"Shall we stop or press on?" shouted Roger.