Once more they were under way, but they did not head for Chicago, as they had intended.
"Too much is likely to happen there," decided Dick. "We might as well have a brass band with us, as this big car. So the thing to do is to avoid the big cities."
This they did. As events of very little interest occurred during the next week, I shall skim over that period, only saying that the lads had no further trouble, except an occasional bad road to travel, and a storm to journey through.
Farther and farther west they worked their way, until one morning saw them in Salt Lake City, Utah. This was on their original schedule, but Dick and his chums figured that they had so shifted about that their enemies must have lost their trail by this time.
"Of course they may be waiting for us here," said Dick, "but they won't get much chance at us. We'll keep on the outskirts of town, and after we get what supplies we need we'll strike out into the desert."
"The desert!" exclaimed Paul. "That sounds lonely enough."
"It will be," asserted the young millionaire, "and we'll have to take along an extra amount of water and gasoline. But we'll keep near the line of the Western Pacific railroad, and in case of trouble we can get help."
That afternoon they started off, having stocked the big car well. They made a quick run to the Great Salt Lake, paused to wonder at it, and then headed for the great desert. Off into its loneliness they steered, wondering what lay before them.