“Please no get angry,” the man pleaded, and smiled again, sensing a slight antagonism in Teddy’s voice. “I mean no harm. I help you. I tell you--” He looked up at the sky, and waved his arms. “I tell you everything! What has been, what is to be! Nothing is hidden! You listen, no?” His voice dropped suddenly, leaving him gazing eagerly forward. “Well, maybe,” Roy answered, not wishing to commit himself. “How much?” “That--the gold--I care not for. It is for the happiness of you that I tell, young man. But--we must live. Shall we say five dollars--each one?” “We shall not,” Teddy said. “That’s too much. Two dollars apiece.” “Three dollars?” “Two, I said.” The man bowed. “You know best. It is not good that we become greedy for gold. For two dollars I will give you a life reading.” “What’s that?” Gus demanded, watching the man with a fascinated stare. “It is the telling of your life--what has been, what is to be. I do it thus.” From the folds of his robe the man produced a crystal globe with such suddenness that Nick unconsciously dodged. The East Indian, if such he was, smiled. “You think I hurt you, no? You think I have about me a cobra or a boomslang, no? That is foolishment. I am no cheat. I do not deal in trickery. I am a true fakir.” “Yo’re a faker, an’ you admit it?” Nick asked, with surprise in his voice. “How do you expect--” “Not faker, _fakir_,” the man corrected gently. “My name is Mohammed Ali Ben Suliman, by which you may know that I am of the true faith.” “Seems like a sincere little cuss,” Roy said in an aside to Teddy. “Probably has a hard time of it out here. What say we give him two bucks and let him do his stuff?” “Sure! Suits me. It’ll be fun, anyhow.” He turned to Mohammed. “Where do you do this crystal-gazing?” “Any place where I and my friend can be alone.” The blue eyes twinkled for a moment. “If you are afraid, young man,--” “Afraid of what?” Gus asked wonderingly and truculently. “Of what I shall tell you.” “Guess that needn’t worry us,” Nick snickered. “Go ahead, boy; we’ll stand for anything!” “Yes?” the little man smiled again, inscrutably. “I wish for you a good fortune. Who will be the first?” “You, Nick,” Gus whispered. “See what he says. Go on.” “Naw, you try it first. You found him. Or maybe Roy or Teddy--” “We’re in no hurry,” Roy declared, grinning. “You can have the freedom of the bunkhouse.” “Bunkhouse? What is that?” Mohammed asked curiously. Roy pointed. “In there. Where the boys sleep. That all right?” The mystic bowed. “What you say. We shall go into the bunkhouse.” “Good name for it,” Teddy chuckled, but not so Mohammed could hear him. He had no wish to offend the man, who appeared slightly frightened and not at all assertive. He kept eyeing the guns the boys, in obedience to the command of their father, had by their sides. “Well, I’ll go first,” Gus declared at last. “Can’t Nick come in with me?”