The three chums looked at one another, hardly knowing what to make of their visitor, who took a seat on part of the old broken wagon--a "prairie schooner" of a bygone age--and stretched out his legs in a comfortable attitude, gazing at Dick's party. "An escaped lunatic," thought Innis, rather thankful that the stranger seemed to be of the mild type. "Somebody who has been crazed by the heat perhaps," was Paul's mental comment. Yet he could not account for the freshness of the man's appearance and attire. "He's stringing us," was Dick's thought. "Well, if he is, I'll give him as good as he sends." Then he spoke: "We are college professors, searching in the desert for traces of a lost glacier, last reported to be headed for the salt lake. We want to get some specimens of the tail." The young man started, looked keenly at Dick, and then, with a quizzical smile, remarked: "You are pleased to joke, I see. I wish I had the chance to accompany you on your search. But it is denied me. Still, lest perchance you think that I, too, am a jester, there is my card," and, with a quick and skillful motion, he scaled a bit of pasteboard over so that it fell exactly on Dick's outstretched leg. "He who sits may read," went on Mr. Cameron. Dick picked up the card, feeling a little ashamed of his bantering retort. By the light of the fire he read the name as given by their visitor. There was also an address in San Francisco, and, the letters C. E.--denoting his profession. "I beg your pardon!" exclaimed Dick, quickly. "I--er--I thought----" "You thought I was stringing you, I guess," interrupted Mr. Cameron, with a smile. "I was not. I'll tell you----" "I beg your pardon," interrupted Dick. "Let me introduce myself and my friends," and he presented Paul and Innis in turn, and mentioned his own name. "And the glacier?" asked Mr. Cameron. "Was a joke, too," said Dick. "We are merely traveling for pleasure. That is our car," and he waved toward where the _Last Word_ was fast in the sand. "We ran into a sort of bog hole and decided to wait until morning to extricate ourselves. But where are you staying?" Dick asked, looking around on the sandy waste, now shrouded in darkness. "Over there," replied Mr. Cameron, with an indefinite wave of his hand in the direction whence he had come. "We are camping out." "Camping out!" exclaimed Paul. "In this desert?" "It does seem rather foolish; doesn't it?" asked their visitor. "And the reasons are peculiar. I was thinking so myself as I strolled out after supper, and saw the gleam of your campfire. I wanted to see who else was as foolish as my friends." "Then you have friends with you?" asked Innis. "They call themselves such," was the answer, "but I prefer to think of them as my guards." "Guards!" cried Dick. "I surprise you, I see. Let me explain why I am out in this sandy waste. I am a lost man!" and he waved his hand with a gentle air, as though being lost was the most delightful of occupations.