"Oh, Qui-tha! I'd forgotten him. He departed that morning without a farewell. We have, however, another guest, who is at this moment asleep in her own tent, near the cook house."
"Get out, Roger! It's too late for joking. Let me get to bed."
"A regular lady, Ern, six feet two or three in height and as near as I can make out she's here for keeps. She's Von Minden's wife."
Ernest stopped yawning. "Who the deuce is Von Minden?"
"Oh, I forgot to mention him. He's the man who tried to shoot me yesterday."
Ernest stared at Roger incredulously. "Rog, what's the matter with you? You're positively maudlin."
Roger chuckled. "Next time you want excitement, Ernie, don't go to Archer's Springs. Stay right at home here in the God-forsakenest spot on earth. Now I'll make my story as short as I can, but you've got to hear it to-night. I can't sleep with it on my chest and she's liable to break loose with something any time."
He finished his story as rapidly as possible, Ernest's consternation growing as he proceeded.
"But, my Lord, Rog, she can't stay here!" he cried.
"So I told her. So Charley told her. But she's here. In her tent. On her air mattress. Her rocking chair beside her. Her books on occultism at her head."
"I was going to ask you to read that letter from Washington to-night," said Ernest, feebly, "but I feel that I need immediate rest. I'll go up in the morning to see Dick and if he still has his grouch with him, I'll bring him back to tackle the lady."
Roger yawned. "Guess I will leave the mail until morning. That woman has exhausted me more than any job we've tackled yet."
He blew out the candle and in a few moments the little camp was silent in the star glow.