The nickname was highly appropriate. Like his namesake, Crowfoot was highly venomous, he struck without warning, and he struck to kill; he was not a pleasant man, and he did not care to be pleasant. He lived alone. In the old dim days, Sidewinder had been a monte dealer in the Alcora Dance Hall; when the law clamped down on gambling, he had owned the Oasis Saloon; when the law clamped down on liquor, he had gone into banking. Some people would claim this was natural evolution. He looked up at his visitor without speaking. Tompkins, entirely ignoring what had happened upon his arrival in town, came forward to the grill and smiled. “This, I believe, is Mr. Crowfoot? I have been referred to you, as owner of the local garage. I desire to rent an automobile with which to survey near-by areas of the great American desert and pursue my investigations of the fauna—” “Can’t be done,” said Sidewinder curtly. “We only got one rent car, and that’s engaged. The other’s a demonstrater, and we can’t rent it or we’d never sell it.” “Ah! Thank you very much indeed,” said Tompkins, and turned to the door. “In that case I had better buy it.” Before Sidewinder could call up any suitable retort, his visitor was gone to the garage next door; before Sidewinder could get there, money had changed hands and the shiny flivver reposing on the garage floor was the property of the Professor. Finding himself too late to prevent the purchase, Crowfoot put on his best air and engaged Tompkins in amiable talk, while the mechanic in charge filled the car with oil and gas and put in half a dozen water-bags. “Hassayamp was telling me,” observed the banker, “that you were askin’ about a man named Ramsay. Seems to me like I recall the feller. Friend of yours?” “A mere acquaintance,” said Tompkins. “I met him at Palmdale, on the other side of the Mohave, while I was engaged in a study of the curious flora over there. Poor fellow, I felt sorry for him! He had lost one eye, and was afflicted with tuberculosis, and was at the age of sixty-five with not a cent in the world. He mentioned that he thought of coming in this direction to locate, having been here some twenty years ago during the mining boom.” “Oh!” said Sidewinder, with a relieved air. “Then it aint the same one. The one who went through here last year was a right young feller, red-haired and active. If I was you, Perfesser, I’d get loose of that Sagebrush. He aint only a desert rat, and folks tell mighty queer stories about him. All desert rats are queer in the head, you know.” “Why—er—that’s very good of you, indeed!” said Tompkins gratefully. “Still, I have engaged the man, perhaps heedlessly, and must keep my promises for a certain time. I suppose, if I were to deposit my money and valuables with you, I’d be in no danger!” “Right good plan,” said Sidewinder. “Step into the bank, and we’ll arrange it.”