Susan Lenox, Her Fall and Rise

He loaded the bucket with broken rock and called to Qui-tha to hoist away. To his surprise, there was no response. Roger climbed hurriedly out, calling to the Indian. He looked in the cook tent and the living tent and then his eye caught Qui-tha's tall figure already diminished by distance, moving rapidly westward toward the River Range.

"By Jove," he exclaimed, "that's cool! I wonder if he took anything with him but the peroxide bottle?"

A quick inventory showed nothing missing, and with a sigh Roger returned to the well.

It was slow work, filling the bucket, clambering out to hoist it, then down again. But at noon, when the sun shone full into the well, Roger noticed a sudden darkening of the brown rock at the bottom. He seized a pick and worked rapidly. Water! Not a gushing spring, but a steady increase of moisture that, as he dug on, became a trickle, then a slowly rising pool about his ankles.

No discoverer of a noble river ever felt prouder than Roger as, after he had hoisted out the bucket and tools, he stood at the well's edge gazing far down at the dirty pool.

He was standing so, a tall figure, his face streaked with dirt and sweat but with satisfaction radiating from every line of his thin tanned face, when, "Hello!" called a man's voice behind him.

Roger turned with a jerk. A little gray-headed man and a little gray burro were standing by the work tent.

"Perhaps I could get something to eat here," said the stranger.

"Certainly," returned Roger, not too enthusiastically. He did not know desert hospitality, excepting what he had met at the Preble ranch. The man turned promptly to the burro.

"I'll take off your pack, Peter, if you see to it that you don't stray."

The burro looked at his master with the gaze of a wise old dog and, relieved of his pack, moved slowly to the shade of the living tent. Roger, looking his guest over, from faded overalls and blue flannel shirt to battered sombrero, led the way into the cook tent.

"Whew!" said the stranger. "Sun's getting higher. Noons are hot. When did you reach these parts?"

"A couple of weeks ago. My name's Moore,--Roger Moore."

The man nodded. "Mine's Otto von Minden. I'm an engineer. Been in the desert country ten years."

Roger was moving about, making coffee and slicing bacon. "What are you doing, prospecting?" he asked.

Von Minden jerked a quick look at Roger from a pair of small brown eyes. "Yes, I'm prospecting. What are you doing?"

"Experimenting with solar heat. This is the place to get it if this noon is a promise of more to come."