The phonograph was not particularly good, for it was too small to have any sweetness, and yet, even with that handicap, the boys enjoyed the "canned music," as Dick called it. As the chorus welled out, they joined in with the voice of the singer coming from the horn. "'My old Kentucky home--good night!'" There was a pause, and as the chorus was repeated more softly, the boys lowered their voices. They had sung in the glee club at Kentfield Military Academy, and their tones were true and pure. In the darkness of the starlight night, on that lonely desert, the music seemed to gather strength and sweetness. Then, as the chorus neared the end, the three chums were startled to hear, off in the distance, another voice joining in with theirs, blending perfectly, in a rich baritone. They stopped singing, so startled were they, for they thought themselves all alone, and the unseen voice carried the air alone, accompanied only by the phonograph. Then, as the last echoes died away, Dick Hamilton jumped to his feet and called out: "Who is there?" CHAPTER XXVIII IMPORTANT INFORMATION For a moment, following Dick's challenge, there was no answer, and then, off in the darkness, beyond the circle of light from the campfire, made of pieces of a broken wagon the boys had found, came a voice, saying: "I am a stranger in a strange land. Who are you that you make the night melodious with your music and song?" The boys felt the tension leave them as they heard the note of culture in the voice, for plainly they had to deal with a gentleman of birth and breeding. "Come on up, and make yourself at home," invited Dick. "Are you lost? Hungry or thirsty, perhaps?" "Neither one nor the other, may it please you," was the somewhat whimsical retort. "Yet I will join you if only for a little while. Then I must get back, or my guards will be thinking that I have escaped." "Guards," murmured Paul, in a low voice. "He must be a prisoner--but in this lonely place----" "I thought we were the only ones here," added Innis. "Hush! Here he comes!" cautioned our hero. A man advanced into the glare of the firelight. He was seen to be a young fellow, of about twenty-five perhaps, of rather frail build, dressed in a negligee costume, well suited to that hot climate, and yet his clothing, as Innis instinctively noticed, was well tailored and fitted him perfectly. Innis was more fastidious about his dress than either of his chums, and naturally noticed the garments of others more closely. "Greeting, fair sirs!" exclaimed the newcomer. "It is very kind of you to extend your hospitality to a stranger, and I thank you. Permit me to make myself known to you. I am Harry Cameron, sometime of San Francisco, at present of the desert waste; an engineer by profession, a dilly-dallier of verse by avocation, and actually in durance vile for the time being. Such is my brief but not unhappy history."