"Don't be so sure," Roger chuckled. "You may come and apologize to our well and ask for a drink yet."
Dick joined in the laugh at this suggestion and started homeward and the two Sun Planters went to bed.
As if the desert were determined to show them early in the game a fair sample of its lesser annoyances, when Ernest entered the cook tent the next morning he found it fairly wrecked. All the canned goods had been rolled off the shelves and the labels had disappeared. Flour, sugar, crackers were knocked about in the sand. Ernest roared for Roger, who came on a run.
"Looks as if a burro had been here from the tracks," exclaimed Roger.
"Two or three burros, I should judge," said Ernest. "Why, Rog, the beggars have eaten all the can labels! We'll never know whether we're opening tomatoes or beans. That flour's useless, and so's the sugar. Look at the coffee! I told you not to leave it in a sack. Oh, hang it all! What a country!"
"Let's see where the little devils went." Roger started out of the tent. The small hoof tracks were not difficult to find. Beyond the confines of the camp, the sand lay like untracked snow. When they picked up the trail, it led directly to the Coyote Range.
Ernest suddenly spoke cheerfully. "We'll have to go up and ask Charley for some breakfast. It's an ill wind that blows nobody any good!"
"We'll have to shave if we're going up there and that takes time," protested Roger.
"What are you going to eat? No sugar, no flour, no coffee!"
"Let's be quick about it, then," said Roger, hurrying into the living tent.