The Pony Rider Boys in New Mexico Part 23

"I guess Chunky is the champion water-finder," laughed Ned.

"Would it not be a good idea to find out whether or not there is water here?" asked the Professor.

"Yes," agreed the guide. "It may be so far down that we cannot reach it, however. You know in some parts of this region they are locating water with the rod and sinking artesian wells."

"Why--why didn't we think to bring some down with us?" demanded Chunky. "Can't we get any in some of the towns down here?"

"Some what?" questioned the guide.

"Artesian wells."

A roar greeted the fat boy's question.

"Bring down a load of artesian wells!" jeered Ned.

"An artesian well, my boy, is nothing more than a hole in the ground,"

the guide informed him, much to Chunky's chagrin.

The spot where the divining rod had so suddenly gotten busy was about midway of an old water course, covered with a thick growth of bunch gra.s.s.

"Get some tools, boys," directed the Professor.

Tad ran back to camp, which lay some distance to the east of where they were gathered. Searching out a pick and two shovels, he leaped on his pony, dashing back to the arroyo.

"That was quickly done," smiled Santa Claus. "Are all of you lads as quick on an errand as that?"

"Only Chunky," answered Ned solemnly.

The guide began to dig, in which effort he was joined by Stacy Brown, who, with a shovel, caved in about as much dirt as he threw out.

"Here, give me that shovel," commanded Ned. "You'll fill up the bole before we get it dug."

Tad, having tethered his pony, took the extra shovel and went to work.

"Guess it's a false alarm," decided Ned, after they were up to their shoulders in the hole.

"Don't be too sure. The ground is quite damp here. Try your rod, young man."

"Chunky held the divining rod over the excavation, whereupon it drew down with even greater force than before.

"Dig," directed the guide.

They did so with a will.

"Here's water!" shouted Kris Kringle.

They crowded about the hole, amazement written on every face.

A fresh, cool stream bubbled up into the hole, causing those in the pit to scramble out hastily.

"Some of you boys run back to camp and fetch pails and water-bags,"

directed the guide.

"I'll go. I've got the pony here," spoke up Tad.

"No; I want you to do something else for me."

"We'll all go," offered Walter. The three lads started on a run, Chunky holding his precious divining rod tightly clasped in both hands.

"What is it you wish?" questioned Tad.

"I wish you would ride over toward that small b.u.t.te and cut a load of brush. Want to rip-rap the outer edge of this water hole, so the bank will not cave in and undo all our work! Have you a hatchet?"

"Yes, in my saddlebags."

"Good. Hurry, please."

Tad leaped into the saddle, and putting spurs to his broncho, tore through the high bunch gra.s.s, above which only his head was now observable. In a short time he was back with the green stuff piled high on the saddle in front of him, with a large bundle tied to the cantle of the saddle behind.

Unloading this, Butler started back at a gallop for more. When there was work to be done, Tad Butler was happy. Activity to him was a tonic that spurred him on to ever greater efforts.

This time he found himself obliged to climb higher up the b.u.t.te in order to get branches of available size. These he cut and threw down.

After having procured what he thought would be all he could carry the lad scrambled down, and, dropping on his knees began tying them into bundles. The heat was sweltering, and occasionally be paused to wipe away the perspiration.

"I smell smoke," sniffed Tad. "I wonder where it comes from?"

The odor grew stronger, but so interested was he in his labor that he did not at once understand the significance of his discovery.

"W-h-o-o-e-e!"

It was a long-drawn, warning shout.

"It's a signal!" exclaimed the lad, straightening up. "I wonder what's the matter?"

As he looked toward the camp a great wall of flame seemed to leap from the ground between him and his companions. There it poised for one brief instant, then, with a roar swooped down into the tall bunch gra.s.s, rushing roaring and crackling toward him.

For an instant he stood unbelieving, then the truth dawned upon him.

"The prairie's on fire!" cried Tad.

CHAPTER XII

THE DASH FOR LIFE

The shouts of the Pony Rider Boys and of the guide were swallowed up in the roar of the flames.