"There goes the silly, little wolf scurrying off," said Roger as they mounted once more, Dick having brought his horse through the patch of woods. "He must think we set great store by his dingy hide, and would take after him. But I'm disappointed because we failed to get an antelope." "Better luck next time, Roger," his comrade told him; for nothing seemed to crush the spirits of this sanguine lad. The third day passed, and, as the blazing sun sank again beyond the glittering horizon, none of them, even by shading his eyes with his hands, could see any sign to proclaim that they were drawing near the end of the desert. It was not a very cheerful party that sat around on blankets that night and exchanged ideas concerning their prospects of pulling through these difficulties. The horses were showing signs of the hard usage to which they had been put. Lack of forage made them hungry all the time, since the small amount of hay that could be carried was almost gone. With the morning they were again on the way, the sun at their backs. Noon found them resting, though the journey was resumed later on. When once more the sun went down its glow showed them trees in the near distance, the presence of which they had not been able to detect before, on account of the shimmer of the sun's torrid rays on the shining sand. It was the consensus of opinion among the men that they were now close to the western extremity of the desert, and they decided to keep on moving far into that night if necessary, in order to reach the timber that promised them water, and shelter from the terrible sun. Before midnight they arrived at the trees and had hardly made their way among them when some of the weary men sank to the ground, unable to continue further. Camp was made on the spot, and the remainder of the night was spent in refreshing slumber. While the desert had been left behind, they now had a new source of trouble. Water they could obtain as often as they needed it, but their food supplies had fallen very low, nor were the hunters able to find game, though they searched early and late for signs of deer or bear; anything, in fact, that could be eaten. "If this sort of thing keeps on," Roger grumbled, when he and Dick were returning from an unsuccessful search for game, "there's only one resort left to us, and that is to feed on horse flesh. I'd hate to come to it; but, rather than starve to death, I believe I'd try it." Dick laughed at hearing this confession. "And yet, when we were among the Sioux," he remarked merrily, "you threw up your hands in horror at the thought of eating baked dog, which the Indians esteem a great delicacy, so that they seldom have it except when they want to make a great feast. How do you feel about that now, Roger?"