CHAPTER III

VOICES IN THE NIGHT


After supper--a queer meal to their Eastern tastes--the young folks
were glad enough to retire to their rooms.

"Oh, what a funny place!" cried Jess, as she and Peggy, carrying a
glass lamp which reeked of kerosene, entered their chamber. The
walls were of rough boards with no attempt at ornamentation, a
gorgeous checked crazy-quilt covered the bed--for though the days
are hot on the desert, the nights are quite sharp. The floor, like
the walls, was bare, and when the girls peered at themselves in the
tiny mirror they gave little squeals of amused disgust. The heat of
the sun, too, had drawn out the resinous qualities of the raw wood,
and the room was impregnated with an aroma not unlike that of a pine
forest under a hot sun.

"I expect we'll see some much funnier places before we get back
East," said Peggy decidedly, and beginning to unpack her
silver-fitted dressing-bag, which was the one luxury she had allowed
herself.

"I expect so, too; and I think it's jolly to rough it," chimed in
her chum; "but it's hard to get used to it all at once. Stepping
right off a Pullman into this is rather a sharp contrast, you must
admit."