However, they did not regret the time spent, for it was a new and wonderful experience for them, and one they would long remember. The big car, aside from the slight break which Dick and his chums had been able to mend themselves, was behaving to perfection. In it they could cross with ease and comparative comfort this terrible stretch of country, where many of the early settlers had given up their lives. Dick had taken the precaution to put on, over the big cushion tires, a sort of steel-studded leather shoe, which gave a larger surface, so that the wheels would not sink down so far in the sand, for the _Last Word_ was of no light weight. In addition, strips of canvas were carried so that when they came to a particularly sandy place these strips could be laid down, like boards across a mud puddle, and the auto sent over them, turn and turn about. Of course that would be slow progress, but it was better than stalling. They saw little of other travelers. Occasionally a mule team would be observed, and now and then they came in sight of the railroad, and watched a train dash along it. But, in the main, they picked out their own route, having learned in Salt Lake City of the one most available for autos. At no time were they very far from the railroad line, but they did not follow it too closely. For, as Dick said, "What was the use of coming out on a tour if you kept in touch with civilization all the while?" So they broke their own trail as far as was practicable, and enjoyed the experience. Water--for themselves and the car--was their main worry, but they had a goodly supply with them. To drink Dick had provided several large vacuum bottles of ice-cold lemonade, and, though of course the frigid temperature could not be retained indefinitely, the liquid was still quite cool and refreshing after several hours of bottling. "Well, this sure has been a great experience for us," declared Paul, as the big car moved off over the desert. "I should say yes," agreed Dick. "I wouldn't have missed it for a farm." "Not even with all the trouble Uncle Ezra made?" asked Innis. "No, even with that. But he hasn't bothered us lately," said our hero, patting Grit, who sat on the seat beside him, Paul driving the car for a change. "I guess he's lost track of us," suggested Innis. "We haven't had a sight of any of his pesky men since that encounter in the dark." "No," assented Dick, "but you never can tell where he will crop up. He may be laying low for us. Though I don't expect there'll be any more fighting until it comes time to file those papers. Then he may try to block me in a legal way." "What can you do?" asked Paul. "I don't know, until the time comes. Dad told me to wire him in case of trouble, and ask his advice. Maybe I'll have to depend somewhat on Mr. Ainslie, the California lawyer."