Dick in the Desert

"I know it, Dick, I know it. You are a good lad – far better than I have been father; and if it should chance that when you come back I've gone from this world, remember that you are the only one to whom the mother and baby can look for protection."

"You know I'd always take care of them; but I am going to save you, daddy dear. People have gotten over worse wounds than this, and once you are at the camp we will stay in Buffalo Meadows till it is possible for you to ride. I'll look out for the whole outfit, and from this on you sha'n't have a trouble, except because of the wound."

"Give me your hand, my boy, and now go; for strong as may be my will, I can't stand the loss of much more blood. God bless you, Dick, and remember that I always loved you, even though I never provided for you as a father should have done."

Dick hastily cleared the mist from his eyes, and without speaking darted forward in the direction where he believed the wagon would be found, breaking the sage-brush as he ran in order that he might make plain the trail over which he must return.

CHAPTER II.
A LONELY VIGIL

It was not yet dark when Dick arrived within sight of the wagon, and shouted cheerily that those who were so anxiously awaiting his coming might know he had been fortunate in the search.

As soon as his voice rang out, startlingly loud because of the almost oppressive stillness, Mrs. Stevens appeared from beneath the flap of the canvas covering, and an expression of most intense disappointment passed over her face as she saw that Dick was alone.

"It's all right, mother!" he cried, quickening his pace that she might the sooner be relieved from her suspense. "It's all right!"

"Did you find your father?"

"Yes; an' I've come back for one of the horses. He's been hurt, an' can't walk."

"Thank God he is alive!" she cried, and then for the first time since the previous evening she gave way to tears.

Dick did all he could toward comforting her without making any delay in setting out on the return journey.

While he filled the canteen with fresh water he repeated what his father had bidden him to say; and when his mother asked concerning the wound, he spoke as if he did not consider it serious.

"Of course it's bad, for he thinks one of the bones has been splintered; but I don't see why he shouldn't come 'round all right after a spell. We've known of people who had worse hurts and yet got well."

"But they were where at least something of what might be needed could be procured, while we are here in the desert."

"Not quite so bad as that, mother dear. We have water, and I should be able to get food in plenty. After I've supplied the camp, I'm goin' on foot to Antelope Spring, where we can buy whatever daddy may need."

"Across the desert alone!"

"A boy like me ought to be able to do it, and" —

"Your father hasn't a penny, Dick dear."

"I know that, mother; but I'll sell my rifle before he shall suffer for anything. Now don't worry, and keep up a good heart till I come back."

"Can't I be of some assistance if I go too?"

"You'd better stay here with Margie. Father and I can manage it alone, I reckon."

Then Dick set about catching one of the horses; and as he rode the sorry-looking steed up to the wagon, his mother gave him such articles from her scanty store as the wounded man might need.

"You're a good boy, Dick," she said, as he stooped over to kiss her; "and some day you shall have your reward."

"I'll get it now, mother, if I see you looking a little more jolly; and indeed things ain't quite so bad as they seem, for I can pull our little gang through in great shape, though I'm afraid after it's been done I sha'n't be able to get you and Margie the new outfit I promised."

"We should be so thankful your father is alive as not to realize that we need anything else."

"But you do, just the same, whether you realize it or not; an' I'll attend to everything if I have time enough. Don't trouble yourself if we're not back much before morning, for I reckon daddy can't stand it to ride faster than a walk."

Then, without daring to stop longer, lest he 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 speaking to a child.

The wounded man seized the tin vessel eagerly, and it required all Dick's strength to prevent him from draining it at once.

"I'm afraid to give you more now, my poor old man; but wait, like a dear, and I'll let you take it again when you're on the horse."

Not until after a violent struggle, which frightened Dick because it seemed almost as if he was raising his hand against his father, did he regain possession of the canteen, and then a full half of the contents had been consumed.

When his thirst was in a measure quenched, Mr. Stevens lay quietly on the sand, save now and then as he moaned in unconscious agony, heeding not the boy's pleading words.

"Try to help yourself a bit, daddy," he urged. "If you'll stand on one foot I can manage to lift you onto the horse's back."

Again and again did Dick try by words to persuade his father to do as he desired, and then he realized how useless were his efforts.

He had heard of this delirium which often follows neglect of gun-shot wounds, but had no idea how he should set about checking it.

After understanding that words were useless, and knowing full well he could not lift unaided such a weight onto the horse's back, he crouched by his father's side in helpless grief.

Never before had he known what it was to be afraid, however far he might be from others of his kind; but now, as he listened to the meaningless words, or the piteous moans, terror took possession of him, and the soft sighing of the gentle wind sounded in his ears like a menace.

The horse strayed here and there seeking food, but he gave no heed.

Such garments as his mother had given him, Dick spread over the sufferer; and that done there was nothing for him save to wait.

It seemed to the anxious boy as if the night would never end. Now and then he rose to his feet, scanning the eastern sky in the hope of seeing some signs of coming dawn; but the light of the stars had not faded, and he knew the morning was yet far away.

Finally, when it seemed to him as if he could no longer remain idle listening to a strong man's childish prattle, the eastern heavens were lighted by a dull glow, which increased steadily until he could see the horse feeding on the dry bunch-grass an hundred yards away, and his long vigil was nearly at an end.

His father called for water from time to time, and Dick had given him to drink from the canteen till no more than a cupful remained.

Now he asked again, but in a voice which sounded more familiar; and a great hope sprang up in the boy's heart as he said, —

"There's only a little left, you poor old man, and we can't get more this side the camp. Shall I give it to you now?"

"Let me moisten my lips, Dick dear. They are parched, and my tongue is swollen until it seems ready to burst."

Dick handed him the canteen; and his father drank sparingly, in marked contrast to his greedy swallowing of a few moments previous.

"It tastes sweet, my boy; and when we are at the camp I'll need only to look at the brook in order to get relief. Are you soon going for the horse?"

"I went, an' have got back, daddy dear. You've been talking mighty queer – on account of the wound, I suppose."

"How long have you been with me, child?"

"I must have got here before midnight, and the morning is just coming now."

"You're a good boy, Dick."

"That's what mother said before I left, and between the two of you I'm afraid you'll make me out way beyond what I deserve. We must get back as soon as we can, you poor old man; for she'll be crying her eyes sore with thinking we've both knocked under. Will we have a try at getting on horseback?"

"Yes; and I reckon it can be done. Lead the beast up here, and then help me on my feet – I've grown as weak as a baby, Dick."

"And I don't wonder at it. According to the looks of this sage-brush you must have lost half of all the blood you had at this time yesterday."

Now that his father was conscious once more, all Dick's reasonless terror fled, and again he was the manly fellow he had always shown himself to be.

The horse was led to Mr. Stevens's side; and Dick raised the nearly powerless body until, at the expense of most severe pain, but without sign of it by even so much as a groan, his father stood on the uninjured limb.

Fortunately the horse was too weary to make much protest at what followed; with a restive steed it would have been impossible for the boy to half lift, half push his father up until he was seated on the bag that served as saddle.

"How is it now, you poor old man? Can you hold on there a couple of hours?"

"I must, my boy; and if it so be I show signs of losing my reason again, you must contrive to lash me here, for unless this wound is attended to in better shape than it is just now, I'll go under."

"For mother's sake you must keep a good grip on yourself. It'll come tough, I know; but once we're in camp you shall live on the fat of the land."

Dick took up his father's rifle, – his own he had left in the wagon when he went after the horse, – and, leading the animal by the bridle, marched on, glancing back every few seconds to learn how the rider was faring.

Although he struggled to repress any evidence of pain, Mr. Stevens could not prevent the agony from being apparent on his face; and Dick, who had neither eaten nor slept during the past twenty-four hours, did all a boy could have done to cheer the sufferer, without thought of his own necessities.

"We'll soon be in camp, daddy, when you're to have everything you need," he said from time to time; and then, fancying this was not sufficient encouragement, he finally added, "you know I'm going over to Antelope Spring to get some doctor's stuff as soon as I've found game enough to keep the camp supplied while I'm away."

"Antelope Spring!" Mr. Stevens cried, aroused from his suffering for an instant by the bold assertion. "You shall never do it, Dick, not if I had twenty wounds! It's as much as a man's life is worth to cross the desert on foot, and these horses of ours are worse than none at all."

"By the time we've been in camp a couple of weeks where the feed is good, they'll pick up in great shape, and be fit to haul the old wagon home. Won't it be prime to see the town once more? And there'll be no more hunting 'round for a place where we can get a livin' easy, eh, daddy?"

"No, Dickey; once we're there we'll stay, and I'm going to turn over a new leaf if my life is spared. I'll do more work and less loafing. But you're not to cross the desert alone, my boy."

"It may be travellers will come our way, an' I can go with them," Dick replied, taking good care not to make any promises; for he understood from what his mother had said that it would be absolutely necessary that aid should be had from the nearest settlement.

Fortunately, as it then seemed to the boy, the pain which his father was enduring prevented him from dwelling upon the subject; and as Dick trudged on, trying to force the horse into a more rapid gait, he turned over in his mind all he had heard regarding such a journey.

There were many times when it seemed certain Mr. Stevens must succumb to the suffering caused by the wound; but he contrived to "keep a good grip" on himself, as Dick had suggested, and after what seemed the longest and most painful journey the boy had ever experienced, the two came upon landmarks which told they were nearing the encampment.

His father was ghastly pale. The big drops of sweat on his forehead told of intense pain; and, in order to revive his courage yet a little longer, Dick shouted loudly to warn the dear ones who were waiting.

"They'll soon come running to meet us; and you must put on a bold front, daddy, else mother will think you're near dead. Hold hard a little while longer, and then we'll have you in the wagon, where all hands of us can doctor you in great shape."

It is more than probable that, had he been alone, with no one to cheer him, Mr. Stevens might never have been able to endure the agony which must have been his. Thanks to Dick's cheering words, however, he not only kept his seat, but remained conscious until his wife and son lifted him from the horse to the bed hastily prepared in the vehicle.

Then nature asserted herself; and he speedily sank into unconsciousness accompanied by delirium, as when Dick had watched by his side.

"He was just that way all night, and it frightened me, mother. What can we do for him?"

"I don't know, Dick dear; indeed I don't. Unless he can have proper attention death must soon come, and I am ignorant of such nursing as he needs. If we were only where we could call in a doctor!"

"Wouldn't it do almost as well if we had medicine for him?"

"Perhaps so; but if we could get such things it would also be possible to at least find out what we should do."

"The horses wouldn't pull us across the desert until after they've rested a spell," Dick said half to himself.

"And even if they could, we must have food."

"See here, mother; you fix up daddy's leg the best you know how, and I'll look around for something that'll fill the pot. There are rabbits here in plenty, though it's mighty hard luck when you have to waste a cartridge on each one. I'll have enough in the way of meat by the time you've washed the wound. I've heard the poor old man himself say that plenty of cool water was needed on a bullet-hole."

Mrs. Stevens could not be hopeful under the circumstances, for she knew better than did Dick how slight was the chance that the injured man could live where it was impossible to care properly for the wound; but she would not deprive the boy of hope, and turned to do as he suggested.

Although weary and footsore, Dick did not spend many moments in camp.

He waited only long enough to get his rifle and ammunition, and then trudged off; for meat must be had, even at the expense of cartridges, both for the wounded man and the remainder of the family.

An hour later Dick returned with two rabbits; and when these had been made ready for cooking, he clambered into the wagon to see his father.

The invalid looked more comfortable, even though nothing had been done for his relief save to cleanse the wound, and dress it in such fashion as was possible; but he was still in the delirium, and after kissing the pale forehead, Dick went to where his mother was making ready for the long-delayed meal.

"I don't reckon there's a bit of anything to eat, mother?"

"I shall soon have these rabbits cooked."

"But I must be off after larger game, and don't want to wait till dinner is ready."

"You need the food, Dickey, and there is only a tiny bit of bread."

"Give me that, mother dear. It will stop the hole in my stomach for a spell, and when I come back there'll be plenty of time to eat meat."

Had the circumstances been one whit less grave, Mrs. Stevens would not have consented to his setting out before having eaten a hearty meal; but she knew that more meat would soon be needed, since they had no other food, and two rabbits would hardly provide the famishing ones with enough to stay their hunger for the time being.