"I beg your pardon," interrupted Dick. "Let me introduce myself and my friends," and he presented Paul and Innis in turn, and mentioned his own name.
"And the glacier?" asked Mr. Cameron.
"Was a joke, too," said Dick. "We are merely traveling for pleasure. That is our car," and he waved toward where the Last Word was fast in the sand. "We ran into a sort of bog hole and decided to wait until morning to extricate ourselves. But where are you staying?" Dick asked, looking around on the sandy waste, now shrouded in darkness.
"Over there," replied Mr. Cameron, with an indefinite wave of his hand in the direction whence he had come. "We are camping out."
"Camping out!" exclaimed Paul. "In this desert?"
"It does seem rather foolish; doesn't it?" asked their visitor. "And the reasons are peculiar. I was thinking so myself as I strolled out after supper, and saw the gleam of your campfire. I wanted to see who else was as foolish as my friends."
"Then you have friends with you?" asked Innis.
"They call themselves such," was the answer, "but I prefer to think of them as my guards."
"Guards!" cried Dick.
"I surprise you, I see. Let me explain why I am out in this sandy waste. I am a lost man!" and he waved his hand with a gentle air, as though being lost was the most delightful of occupations.