"You boys going far?" he asked.
"Quite a way," replied Jack in a low voice. He was afraid the former experience the man had passed through might be recalled to him if he heard the voices of the students, and so did not use his natural tones.
But Professor Punjab did not seem at all suspicious. Besides he had never had a good look at the boys, and there was so much talking going on the time they played the trick on him it is doubtful if he remembered any one's voice.
"Where are you from?" the fakir asked next, but Jack was spared the necessity of replying by the return of Mr. Post from the smoking compartment.
"Well, well, Professor," the miner said, "that certainly was a slick trick of yours. Haven't any more of 'em up your sleeve, have you?"
"That was no trick," returned the "professor" in an injured tone. "I do not descend to tricks. If I am gifted with certain powers I must use them. I can not help myself. There is something within me—some spirit—that moves me. I saw that the train would have to stop and I had to announce it."
"You bet you saw it all right," muttered Jack. "So could any one else who had been sitting in your seat. It was easy."
"No offense, no offense, Professor," muttered Mr. Post, seeing he had made a mistake. "I'm much interested in this thing."
"I welcome real interest in my work," the fakir went on, "I will be happy to illustrate matters to you as far as my poor talents enable me to. You have perhaps heard of the celebrated Indian manifestation of making a plant grow in a few hours?"
"Not guilty," said Mr. Post solemnly.