Alexis, the grown son of Lascelles, must have returned to civilization, since he had not been seen with his father. The knowledge that these evil men were bent on following them across mountain and plain, and determined on punishing the boys because their plans had been ruined, was something calculated to take away much of the pleasure Dick and Roger would otherwise have enjoyed. From time to time their thoughts naturally went out toward Lascelles and his unscrupulous ally. They often wondered whether the two men had actually crossed the mountain range, and if they would even attempt the passage of this burning desert. Roger in particular was indignant over the prospect of such a thing. "It would serve them right," he declared, as he talked matters over with Dick, "if they lost their way out here on the desert, and paid the penalty with their miserable lives. I wish that would happen to them, even if it does sound wicked; but of what use are they in the world, except to bring trouble to others who never tried to harm them in the beginning?" "And the chances are," pursued Dick, frowning, "that, after we do get across this sandy stretch, if they follow us, it will be to spread some of the same lies about our being the sons of the Great White Father at Washington. They plan to have the Indians seize us, and hold us for the ransom that would never come. It might mean we would be kept all our lives among the Indians, and never see our families any more." "All I can say, Dick, is that I'll be a happy boy when we get across this terrible desert. When we happen on the white bones of animals that have perished here, sticking out of the sand, they make me think of finger posts pointing to our finish. To tell you the honest truth, I don't think I have ever shivered before when burning up with fever; but it's the prospect that does it." "Oh! there's no use feeling that way," Dick assured him, seeing that really the other was very much depressed in his spirits; "we are going to pull out of this scrape, just as we always do. Before a great while things will look cheery again, take my word for it." "If only there was any chance to find game I wouldn't feel so bad," complained Roger, touching his gun, which was fastened behind his saddle. "Well, there is a little patch of scrub trees beyond us right now," his comrade told him. "Suppose we ride ahead and see if we are lucky enough to find a stray antelope there. Sometimes there is moisture in one of those oasis, and some grass manages to grow. It can do no harm, and will serve to take our minds off a disagreeable subject." Roger began to show a little animation at that. Anything touching on hunting was apt to engage his attention, and raise his spirits.