Dick's lonely journey across the Smoke Creek Desert in Nevada to procure help for his wounded father is well described, and is an interesting adventure on the frontier.
d when he finally ended the search his heart literally ceased beating because of his terror and dismay.
Dick believed he had anticipated the worst, but yet was unprepared for that which he saw.
Lying amid the blood-stained sage-grass, his shirt stripped into bandages to tie up a grievously injured limb, lay "Roving Dick," his face pallid, his lips bloodless, and his general appearance that of one whom death has nearly overtaken.
"Daddy! daddy!" Dick cried piteously, and then he understood that consciousness had deserted the wounded man.
He had retained possession of his faculties until aid was near at hand, and then the long strain of physical and mental agony had brought about a collapse.
Dick raised his father's head tenderly, imploring him to speak--to tell him what should be done; but the injured man remained silent as if death had interposed to give him relief.
Looking about scrutinizingly, as those born and bred on the frontier learn to do early in life, Dick sa