"Well, my dear old gentleman," he remarked, and by the sound Frank imagined the fellow must be lighting a fresh cigarette, for he seemed to puff between the words; "just as you say, what's the use of carrying the joke on any longer. Let's be brutally frank with each other from now on."
"Very well," replied the other, quickly. "Here's the situation then, in a nutshell. You suddenly appear before me, with a couple of men you claim are guides, but whom I have every reason to believe are low minions who are simply in your pay."
"Careful, Professor," Eugene broke in. "I'd advise you to go a bit slow. These men talk English, if they do look like Mexicans; and they may resent being called rascals."
"Let that pass," continued the hermit of Echo Cave, as though waving the matter aside contemptuously. "At any rate, you come suddenly into my habitation here, where I have spent many happy months in solitude, wrapped up in my studies of the people of the cliffs, who spent their lives in this very place, and who have left many traces of their customs behind. My work is almost finished, and in another week I expected leaving here for civilization, with a masterly book on the subject that has mystified the world for a century."
"Come to the point, Professor," broke in the man with the drawl; "and keep all this about your studies for those of your kind, who may appreciate them. We are concerned only about one thing; and that is a certain paper which you will presently take from its hiding-place, sign over to me, and then finish your labors here in peace. Understand that?"
"By good luck I was forewarned," the sharp voice went on; "and hence I made sure not to carry that document on my person. You have taken the liberty of searching every inch of these cliff houses since you arrived here, but without success. And allow me to inform you, sir, that you might hunt until the day of doom without the slightest chance of finding that paper. It will never be yours!"
"Oh! I am not worrying in the least, Professor," Eugene remarked, coolly. "You will see a great light presently, I imagine."
"I have already done so, sir," came the snappy reply. "I am awakening to the fact that too long have I been neglecting my daughter; and that since this investment of mine has turned out so happily, it must become her property."
"Very nice and thoughtful of you, Professor," sneered Eugene; "and while I dislike to spoil such delightful plans, I fear I must do so. It is my nature to persist in anything I undertake. And I have made up my mind to possess that document; or make you pay dearly for my disappointment."
"Now you begin to descend to low threats, sir," cried the scientist, who did not seem to be a particle afraid; which proved the truth of the old saying that courage does not necessarily need a big tenement.