The remark of Dismukes anent the riding of a burro disturbed Adam. This kindly prospector meant to take him on to his destination. Impossible! Adam had fled to the desert to hide, and the desert must hide him, alive or dead. The old, thick, clamoring emotions knocked at his heart. Adam felt gratitude toward Dismukes for not questioning him, and that forbearance made him want to tell something of his story. Yet how reluctant he was to open his lips on that score! He helped Dismukes with the simple morning meal, and afterward with odds and ends of tasks, all the time cheerful and questioning, putting off what he knew was inevitable. The day did come on hot--so hot that life was just bearable for men and beasts in the shade of the big ironwood tree. Adam slept some of the hours away. He awoke stronger, with more active mind. Of the next meal Dismukes permitted Adam to eat heartily. And later, while Dismukes smoked and Adam sat before the camp fire, the moment of revelation came, quite unexpectedly. “Wansfell, you’ll not be goin’ to Yuma with me to-morrow,” asserted Dismukes quietly. The words startled Adam. He dropped his head. “No--no! Thank you--I won’t--I can’t go,” he replied, trembling. The sound of his voice agitated him further. “Boy, tell me or not, just as you please. But I’m a man you can trust.” The kindness and a nameless power invested in this speech broke down what little restraint remained with Adam. “I--I can’t go.... I’m an outcast.... I must hide--hide in the--desert,” burst out Adam, covering his face with his hands. “Was that why you came to the desert?” “Yes--yes.” “But, boy, you came without a canteen or grub or burro or gun--or anythin’. In all my years on the desert I never saw the like of that before. An’ only a miracle saved your life. That miracle was Jinny’s eyes. You owe your life to a long-eared, white-faced burro. Jinny has eyes like a mountain sheep. She saw you--miles off. An’ such luck won’t be yours twice. You can’t last on this desert without the things to sustain life.... How did it happen that I found you here alone--without anythin’?” “No time. I--I had to run!” panted Adam. “What’d you do? Don’t be afraid to tell me. The desert is a place for secrets, and it’s a lonely place where a man learns to read the souls of men--when he meets them. You’re not vicious. You’re no---- But never mind--tell me without wastin’ more words. Maybe I can help you.” “No one can--help me,” cried Adam. “That’s not so,” quickly spoke up Dismukes, his voice deep and rolling. “Some one can help you--an’ maybe it’s me.” Here Adam completely broke down. “I--I did--something--awful!” “No crime, boy--say it was no crime,” earnestly returned the prospector.