The car halted, and both men got out. Here, off the highway and sheltered by the mesquite on either hand, die loose earth would bear any “sign” indefinitely, for nothing less than a sandstorm would wash over the tracks. Sagebrush examined the sand attentively, then expectorated and turned to Tompkins, who had donned his yellow blinders as a protection against the glare.
“What d’ye make of it?”
“Automobile,” said Tompkins. “How long ago, I can’t say.”
Sagebrush grunted, at this, and pointed to a series of scroll-like markings which followed the right-hand tire-rut. Then he indicated further prints in the shape of a Maltese cross, which had obviously been made over the scrolls.
“Flivver come along yere yestiddy,” he stated. “Last night a sidewinder come along and follered the ruts. Then this mornin’ early a roadrunner come along likewise.”
“All obvious but the time, Sherlock,” said Tompkins gravely. “How do you know it was yesterday and not last week?”
“’Cause I seen that thar cuss Hassayamp ridin’ out this-a-way yestiddy mornin’ as I was comin’ in to town to mail my postcards. Some skullduggery goin’ on.”
“Hm!” Tompkins frowned. “Sagebrush, that mesa up ahead would make a fine place for a chicken-ranch, wouldn’t it?”
“Hell of a fine place,” affirmed the desert rat, squinting at the long saddleback. “Danged fine place, Perfesser! Every wildcat and coyote in the Chuckwallas would be pointin’ that way, inside of a week. If a gent was feelin’ real philanthropic and wantin’ to help out the pore desert critters, I’d say start him a chicken-and-egg factory right up yonder. Yessir. That’s like Haywire Johnson done, time he was livin’ down to Meteorite. He started him a egg-ranch—done it to get ahead of some other folks and kep’ it real quiet. Got all his chickens clear from Phoenix and Yuma, danged near a hull carload of ’em, and set up incubators and all that truck. Then he begun to figger on how rich he’d be. Every oncet in a while he’d go out to look for eggs, but dad blame if he got any. He fed them chickens on everything from ground-up lizards to eggplant, and nary a egg come along. Finally he got desp’rit and called in help—and durned if all them birds wasn’t roosters! Yessir, not a female chicken in the lot. That’s how come Haywire went broke and had to come over yere to work for Hassayamp.”
Tompkins grinned despite himself. Then he sobered.