"Say, it seems to me you're going to a lot of trouble to save a fortune for a fellow you don't know very well, and who doesn't seem to take much interest in it himself," observed Innis. "Who, Wardell?" asked Dick. "Sure. That's who I mean." "You don't understand," said the young millionaire, softly. "In the first place, Mr. Wardell would make the biggest kind of a fight for himself, if he were here. But I think he's doing the right thing, to try to start life over again, for there's nothing sure about saving his fortune for him. The courts may decide against him at the last minute. But there's a chance in his favor, and I'm taking it for him. "Some day Mr. Wardell is going to know that it's my uncle who played him this trick, but if he knows that I did my best to offset it, why, that's going to square it; isn't it?" "I suppose so," agreed Innis. "And Wardell is a mighty fine chap," went on Dick. "Of course that day when Paul and I saw him on the railroad bank he had sort of lost his nerve. You can't blame him for that. I'm not a bit sorry over what I'm trying to do for him." "Oh, no, of course not. Only it's a lot of trouble for a stranger." "Well, I'm not doing it altogether for him," said Dick. "I'm thinking of the honor of our family. I wouldn't want it said that any of my relatives ruined a man, even if it was legal." "Good for you!" cried Paul. "Say, the trail is leading us back toward the railroad, I think." "Yes, it does come near the line about here," agreed Dick, as he consulted a map. "So much the better. We may strike a water tank. Our supply isn't any too large." The big car slowly made its way over the desert. They were not trying for any speed, since the clinging sand made progress difficult, and they did not want to put too much of a strain on the wheels and motor. It seemed to get hotter as they proceeded, though the breeze of the electric fan in the car was grateful. But even the air in motion seemed to come out of some oven, laden with the smell of baking earth. "Whew!" exclaimed Paul, when they had gone on about a mile further, and had come in sight of the railroad. "Take her a while, Innis. My hands are tired from trying to hold the wheel steady. She wabbles a lot." "I'll guide," said Dick. "No, let me," urged his other chum, so he was given charge. The _Last Word_ ran along well, and they were beginning to think of looking for a good location to spend the night, since it was evident that they would need another day to cross the desert. Suddenly Dick, who had been looking ahead, uttered an exclamation, and made a grab for the gasoline lever. "Stop her!" he cried to Innis. But it was too late. The car sank down several inches into a particularly soft and yielding stretch of sand. "Wow!" cried Innis, as he saw into what he had steered.