At last Watson was touching firm ground. Things were beginning to link up--the Senestro, the professor, the Prophecy of the Jarados. “Well, sor, we Bars have kept th' ould doctor prisoner there iver since he come, wit' none save me to give him a wee bit word av comfort. But it dinna hurt th' old gent. Whin he finds all them balls an' rainbows an' eddicated secrets, he forgets iverything else; he's contint wit 'his discovery. 'Tis th' wise head th' doctor has; an' Oi make no doobt he's th' real Jarados.” The red-haired man went on to say that the professor knew of Chick's coming from the beginning. He immediately called in MacPherson and gave him some orders, or rather directions, which the Irishman could not understand. He knew only that he was to go to the Temple of the Leaf and there touch certain objects in a certain way; also, he was to arrange to get near Chick, and give him a word of cheer. “But it dinna work as he said it, sor; he had expected to catch th' Senestro. Instead, 'twas th' dog got th' Bar. A foine pup, sor; she saved yer loife.” “Where's the dog now?” “She's on th' Spot av Life, sor. She willna leave it. Tis a strange thing to see how she clings to it. Th' Rhamdas only come near enough to feed her.” Thus Chick learned that, as soon as he got well, he and MacPherson were to seek the doctor, and help him to get away with the secrets he had found, the truths behind the mystery of the Spot. “An' 'tis a glorious fight there'll be, lad. Th' Senestro's a game wan; he'll not give up, an' he'll not let go th' doctor till he has to.” This was not unwelcome news to Chick. A battle was to his liking. It reminded him of the automatic pistol which he still had in his pocket--the gun he had not thought to use in his desperate struggle with the Bar Senestro. “Pat,” said he, with a sudden inspriation, “when you came through, did you have a firearm?” MacPherson reached into his pocket and silently produced a thirty-two calibre pistol, of another make than Chick's but using the same ammunition. From another pocket he drew out a package carefully bound with thread. He unrolled the contents. It was an old clay pipe! “Oi came through,” he stated plaintively, “wit' two guns; an' nary a bit av powder for ayther!” Chick smiled. He searched his own pockets. First he handed over his extra magazine full of cartridges, and then a full package of smoking tobacco. “Wirra, wirra!” shouted MacPherson. “Faith, an' there's powder for both!” His hands shook as he hurried to cram the old pipe full of tobacco. The cartridges could wait. He struck a light and gave a deep sigh of content as he began to puff. XLIII THE HOME OF THE JARADOS Chick had been grievously hurt in the contest with the Senestro, but thanks to the Rhamdas he came round rapidly. It was a matter of less than a week.