“There—he’s gone. Pay no more attention to the matter, I implore you. I was about to ask whether you ever indulge in spiritous liquors, Mr. Foster? In such case, I have in my pocket a small vial of medicinal whisky. I understand that it is the custom in the desert to offer a drink—” Hassayamp, who like many another man with slight experience of the harmless but frightful-looking vinegaroons believed them to be deadly creatures, was pale with emotion. And with more than emotion, too. “If you got a drink, Puffesser,” he implored, “for gosh sake give it here! I swallered my plug.” Tompkins produced a small pocket flask and began to unscrew it. Hassayamp became yet more pale and agitated. “Oh, gosh!” he groaned. “I’ll never eat no more tobacker—” He reached out and took the flask. He sniffed it, and into his melancholic eyes came a glow of warmth and happiness. Tompkins beamed upon him, as he lifted the flask. “I forgot to mention, Mr. Foster, that you must use your mustache as a strainer, because in that whisky I am preserving a very fine specimen of rock scorpion which I recently discovered, and I should be very sorry to have it lost—” Hassayamp jerked the flask from his lips. He looked at the Professor with slowly distending eyes, then thrust the flask at him; and, with one agonized groan, retired among the near-by boulders. Tompkins turned and rejoined Miss Gilman. “Hassayamp will rejoin you shortly,” he said. “He unfortunately swallowed his chew of tobacco—an accident which will unnerve the strongest man, I assure you—” The girl looked at him with strained and anxious eyes. “But this—this paper! Do you mean to tell me that this man Alec Ramsay was your brother?” Tompkins nodded quietly. “Yes, Miss Gilman. I came here to trace him—and by a stroke of sheer luck I found this cigarette case. You have read that deed? Then I advise you to go on up the cañon and see if the description fits. I haven’t been up there. Be very careful to say nothing to Hassayamp about this. I’ll see you tonight, if I may, and we’ll talk over what is to be done. Now I must get off—you’d better keep a sharp lookout for rattlers among these rocks. Don’t wait for Hassayamp; he’ll be along as soon as he’s able. _Hasta la vista!_” She made no response, but stood gazing after him thoughtfully as he turned and departed. CHAPTER VI As Tompkins climbed down the rock-strewn cañon toward the thorny growth which hid the flivver from sight, he came to a decision upon his course of action, forcing himself to determine upon a caution which was distasteful and yet necessary.