Riders.

"Surely, Grace, you girls aren't going to ride those wild
animals!" protested Tom Gray.

"Judging from the performances I have just witnessed, I am
inclined to think we are not," replied Grace whimsically. "Which
is Mr. Lang?"

"The man with his hat off leading the pony from the corral."

Tom beckoned to the man who was to guide the Overlanders across
the desert, and, as soon as he had turned the protesting bronco
over to a cowboy, the guide responded to Tom Gray's summons.

"Lang, this is Mrs. Gray and Miss Briggs," said Tom by way of
introduction.

"Reckon I'm mighty glad to know you all," greeted the guide,
mopping the perspiration from his forehead with his sleeve.

Hi Lang interested Grace at once. Of medium height, thin-featured,
with a complexion that reminded her of wrinkled parchment, eyes
that, though intelligent and alert, frequently took on a dreamy,
far-away expression, Hiram Lang proved a new type of westerner to
Grace Harlowe.

"Got your telegram that you reckoned on starting to-day," he told
her.