should betray some sign
of weakness, Dick rode away, waving his hand to Margie, who was
looking out of the rear end of the wagon, but giving vent to a sigh
which was almost a sob when they could no longer see him.

Young though he was, Dick understood full well all the dangers which
menaced. Although he had spoken so confidently of being able to "pull
the gang through," he knew what perils were before them during the
journey across the desert; and it must be made within a reasonably
short time, otherwise they might be overtaken by the winter storms
before arriving at their old home.

The beast he rode, worn by long travelling and scanty fare, could not
be forced to a rapid pace; and when night came Dick was hardly more
than two miles from the wagon.

He could have walked twice the distance in that time; but the delay
was unavoidable, since only on the horse's back could his father be
brought into camp.

When it was so dark that he could not see the broken sage-brush which
marked the trail, it was necessary he should dismount, and proceed even
at a slower pace; but he continued to press forward steadily, even
though slowly, until, when it seemed to him that the night was well-nigh
spent, he heard a sound as of moaning a short distance in advance.

"I've come at last, daddy. It's been a terrible long while, I know;
but it was the best I could"--

He ceased speaking very suddenly as he stood by the side of the
sufferer, whom he could dimly see by the faint light of the stars.

From the broken and uprooted sage-brush around him, it was evident the
wounded man had, most likely while in a delirium of fever, attempted
to drag himself on in the direction of the camp, and had ceased such
poor efforts only when completely exhausted.

He was lying on his back, looking straight up at the sky as he
alternately moaned and talked at random, with now and then a mirthless
laugh which frightened the boy.

"Don't, daddy, don't!" he begged, as he raised the sufferer's head.
"See, it's Dick come back; and now you can ride into camp!"

"Mother is dying of thirst, and I'm--see that stream! Come, boys,
we'll take a header into it--I'm on fire--fire!"

Frightened though he was, Dick knew water was the one thing his father
most needed; and laying the poor head gently back on the sand, he took
the canteen from a bag which had served instead of a saddle.

"Drink this, daddy, and you'll feel better," he said coaxingly, much
as if sp