“A which?” demanded Hassayamp, by no means pleased to see the professor.
“I believe you would term the reptile a sidewinder—”
“Oh, my gosh!” Hassayamp saw the dead snake and did an acrobatic stunt that removed him some distance away, while a revolver came out in his hand.
“Don’t shoot!” said Tompkins. “He’s dead. I killed him.”
“Why in hell didn’t you say so first?” snapped Hassayamp angrily. “What you doin’ up this-a-way? Thought you was headin’ into the sink-holes?”
“I changed my mind,” said Tompkins. He showed Miss Gilman the pack-rat’s nest. “That’s worth seeing. I have a particular reason for asking you to remember it. But may I inquire whither you two are heading?”
“Up the cañon to look at a chicken-ranch site,” said the girl, glancing from him to the nest and back again. “Will you come along? Or don’t you feel well? Really, you looked almost ghastly at first, Mr. Tompkins!”
“Reckon the climb would be too blamed hard on the Puffesser, ma’am,” struck in Hassayamp, who did not desire company. “And there aint no bugs up there.”
“All the more honor in discovering some, sir! I accept your invitation, madam, and shall accompany you a little way.”
“We’ve brought lunch along, if you’ll join us,” invited Miss Gilman, starting off again with Tompkins at her side. He glanced around and saw that Hassayamp had paused to wipe a dripping brow and bite off a fresh chew, and was momentarily out of earshot. Swiftly, he took the cigarette case from his pocket and passed it to the girl.