"It—it's him!" murmured Nort, and the others knew what he meant.
"But what's he doing?" whispered Dick.
There was hardly need to ask that question. Undoubtedly the old man was brewing something in the kettle over the fire. There was a peculiar odor in the air, not unpleasant, but rather overpowering.
"He's making that stuff he bottles and sells," went on Dick. "The
Elixer. And maybe——"
He did not finish the sentence. Either the cautious talk of the boy ranchers, or some noise they made carried to the sharp ears of the old man.
He started back, out of the circle of light cast by the fire under the kettle. He seemed to be alarmed.
"Who's there?" he cried.
The boys did not answer. They did not know what to do. It was all so strange and startling.
A moment later the queer hermit, for such he seemed to be, had snatched the kettle off the chain by which it was suspended. With a quick motion of his foot he scattered the embers of the fire so that immediate section of the cave was obscured by smoke and fantastic shadows. Then the old man ran back into the darkness of the far reaches of the cavern and disappeared from view.
"There he goes!" cried Nort. There was no longer need of whispering.