"That's all right, my son," Bob Mason interrupted. "We've got a good idea of what you want to say, an' you can let it go at that. As a general thing we don't get stuck on kids; but when one flashes up in the style you have, we cotton to him mightily. You can push that 'ere broncho right along, for forty-five miles ain't any terrible big job for him, an' canter into camp this side of midnight with considerable time to spare."
"I thank you all, an' so will mother an' daddy when they get here," he said in a husky tone, as he mounted; and then waving his cap by way of adieu, he rode away, the happiest boy to be found on either side of the Rocky Mountains.
Night had not fully come when he halted at the eastern edge of the desert to give the broncho water and grass; and here he remained an hour, the crackers and cheese left from breakfast affording an appetizing supper to a lad who had known but little variation in his bill of fare from fresh meat, broiled or stewed, more often without salt or pepper.
The stars guided him on the course across the waste of sand, and the pony made his way over the yielding surface at a pace which surprised the rider.
"He can walk four miles an hour, according to this showing, and I should be in camp before ten o'clock."
In this he was not mistaken. The broncho pushed ahead rapidly, proving that he had traversed deserts before, and was eager to complete the journey; and when Dick came within sight of the wagon, his mother was standing in front of the camp-fire, so intent on broiling a slice of venison that she was ignorant of his coming until he shouted cheerily,—
"Here I am, mother dear, coming along with a good bit of style, and so many fine things that you'll open your eyes mighty wide when this bag is emptied. How is my poor old man?"
He had dismounted as he ceased speaking, and was instantly clasped in his mother's arms.
"O Dick, Dick, how sore my heart has been! Your father said you could not get across the desert on foot, and I have pictured you lying on the sands dying."
"You've made your pictures all wrong, dearie; for here I am in prime condition, and loaded down with good things. The people up at Antelope Spring have shown themselves to be mighty generous. How is daddy?"