Here was their friend menaced by a hideous death, and they found themselves powerless to help him. They were within a hundred feet of him, but to all intents and purposes they might as well have been a hundred miles distant. The first attempt on their part to help him would only precipitate the very tragedy that they sought to avoid.
Bert lay in the shadow cast by the “Blue Streak,” over which he had thrown a blanket to protect it from wind-blown sand. The hideous creatures would not leave him until the sun drove them into hiding, and Bert might wake at any moment. What to do they knew not. They racked their brains desperately for some plan of action, but could think of none.
It was the old frontiersman who came to their rescue. “Ef I only had a bit o’ lookin’ glass,” he muttered, looking aimlessly about him, “I might do somethin’. But they probably ain’t no sech thing nearer than ten miles.”
“If that would do any good I can get you one,” exclaimed Tom, seized with an inspiration. He raced back to the auto, and, seizing a wrench, attacked the mirror attached to the dash for the purpose of reflecting objects coming in back of the car. He had it off in less time than it takes to tell, and ran back, waving it over his head. “Here you are!” he exclaimed, thrusting it into the hands of the guide. “But I don’t see what good that will do.”
“Never you mind, son,” said the old man, snatching the mirror from him. “Jest you watch my smoke.”
He took up a position on the other side of Bert, and manipulated the mirror so that a bright beam of sunlight fell on the recumbent form. Its effect was soon apparent. The poisonous insects stirred uneasily, trying to avoid the glare that they hated. Finding that there was no escaping it, they at last commenced to crawl down in search of a more shady resting place.
One by one they made off, the flashing ray of light hastening the departure of the laggards. Watching breathlessly, Dick and Tom waited for the last noxious insect to crawl sluggishly down onto the blanket and then off into the sand. Even after the last one had been dislodged, the prairieman played the reflected sunlight over Bert until there was no longer cause for apprehension.
“All right, young fellers,” he said at last. “I cal’late you can wake your friend up now without takin’ any long chances.”
Dick and Tom were about to avail themselves of this permission, but found that there was no need. As they started forward the “sleeper” sat up, and then scrambled to his feet.
His comrades uttered a simultaneous expression of surprise, and Dick exclaimed, “Of all the lucky old reprobates that ever lived, Bert, you’re certainly the luckiest, without exception. If you had waked up ten minutes sooner, you would——”