"Ugh, what a fright that thing gave me," exclaimed Peggy with a shudder that she could not control.
"Nasty looking beast, and that cry of his isn't beautiful," commented Roy in as easy a tone as he could assume.
"Alverado told me that those desert ravens were inhabited by the souls of those who had lost their way and perished on the alkali," shivered Peggy.
"Say, sis, don't be creepy. You surely don't believe all the rot those superstitious Mexicans talk, do you?"
"No, not exactly—but—oh, Roy," even plucky Peggy's voice broke and quavered, "it's so lonely, and whatever are we to do?"
The last words came wildly. Peggy was not, as we know, a nervous girl, but the situation was enough to unstring the nerves of the most stolid of beings.
CHAPTER XV
THE PERILS OF THE HILLS
Suddenly Roy gave a sharp exclamation. Something about a cone-shaped peak to the west of them appeared familiar.
"The camp is in that direction, I'm sure of it," he declared, "come on, Peg, we'll strike out for it, and in half an hour's time we'll be telling our adventures over a good supper."