E-text prepared by David Garcia
and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
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"I'LL MAKE THIS ONE QUIET!" SNAPPEDSHEILA, FOR THE HARD
PACE HAD TOLD ON HER TEMPER THROUGH HERBRUISES
DESERT CONQUEST
OR
PRECIOUS WATERS
BY
A. M. CHISHOLM
AUTHOR OF THE BOSS OF WIND RIVER, ETC.
ILLUSTRATED BY
CLARENCE ROWE
NEW YORK
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS
Copyright, 1913, by
Doubleday, Page & Company
All rights reserved, including that of
translation into foreign languages,
including the Scandinavian
COPYRIGHT, 1912, 1913, BY STREET & SMITH, PUBLISHERS
DESERT CONQUEST
or
PRECIOUS WATERS
CHAPTER I
Miss Nita Hess flattened a snub nose against the Pullman window, andstared at the expressionless face of the plains with an avidity to beexplained only by the fact that her acquaintance with them up to thenhad been principally through the medium of light literature perusedsurreptitiously in a select school for young ladies in the extremeEast. But her remarks from time to time would have shocked theultra-correct preceptresses of that excellent seat of learning.
"Oh, gee, Clyde," she exclaimed suddenly, "look at the cute littledeer! Oh, see 'em scoot!"
Her companion glanced from the window, and stifled a yawn. "Antelope,"she commented, without interest. "Yes, I see them, Nita," and leanedback again, closing her eyes.
In fact, Miss Clyde Burnaby was bored by the journey, and a little—avery little—by her fifteen-year-old cousin, daughter of the celebratedJames C. Hess, of the equally celebrated Hess Railway System. Nita wasa good little girl, and a nice little girl—in spite of occasionallingual lapses—but only a sense of duty to dear old Uncle Jim hadinduced Clyde to forego her European trip that she might accompany Nitato the Pacific coast for the benefit of that young lady's health, whichClyde privately considered as sound as the national currency system.
In a democratic moment she had refused Hess' offer of a private car,and she now rather regretted it. She had a headache, and the greatcoils of red-gold hair seemed to weigh tons. It would have been arelief to have it taken down and brushed by a deft-fingered maid. Butthe maid also had been left behind. And that, she decided, was amistake, also.
Clyde Burnaby was alone in the world. Her father's modest fortune,under the able management of his executor, Jim Hess, had expandedwonderfully. So far as money was concerned, no reasonable wish of hersneed remain ungratified. She was accomplished, travelled, and v