"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——"