[CHAPTER IX]
In Deadly Peril
It was after he reached the Western deserts that Bert experienced the hardest going. The roads, if mere trails could be dignified by that name, were unspeakably bad, and time and again he was forced to ride on the railroad embankment, between the tracks. Of course, progress in this manner was necessarily slow, and again and again Bert had occasion to feel grateful for the wonderful springing system of his mount. Without some such aid, he felt his task would be well nigh hopeless.
As it was, he had to let a little air out of the tires, to reduce the shocks caused by contact with the rough ballast and uneven ties. In some places, where the roadbed was exceptionally well ballasted he was able to open up a little, but such stretches were few and far between. In places he was forced to dismount because of drainage culverts running under the tracks. When this happened he would lift the “Blue Streak” up on a rail and trundle it over. It was back-breaking work, and tested even his courage and endurance to the utmost.
His oil and gasoline supply ran low, but by great good fortune he was able to secure almost a gallon of gasoline from an agent at a lonely little station, and about a quart of very inferior lubricating oil. But he comforted himself with the thought that “half a loaf is better than none” and went on. After a while he noticed that a passable looking road skirted the railroad to the left, and he resolved to try it.
Accordingly, he scrambled down the steep embankment, the “Blue Streak” half rolling and half sliding down with him. He arrived safely at the bottom, and a minute later was on the road. It proved to be fairly good at first, but became more and more sandy, and at last Bert was brought to a standstill.
“I guess I’m through for to-day,” he reflected, and gazed anxiously in every direction for any sign of human habitation. His searching gaze met nothing but empty sky and empty desert, however, and he drew a sigh of resignation. “I guess there’s nothing for it but to camp out here and make the best of things,” he thought, and set about unstrapping his impedimenta from the luggage carrier.
His preparations for the night were soon made. He smoothed out a patch of sand and spread his thick army blanket over it. “Now that that’s done,” he thought, “I’ll just have a bite to eat, and turn in. This isn’t half bad, after all. It’s a lot better than some of the hotels I’ve put up at on this trip, and the ventilation is perfect.”