Roger nearly dropped the tea kettle. His mouth fell open as he stared at his caller.
"Don't be startled, my friend," she cried. "Great things are to come to you if you obey the Voices. And I've brought my own tent and supplies."
"But your husband isn't here, madam," protested Roger. "To tell you the truth, I wouldn't have him about the place. He's just plain crazy."
"Oh, no, he's not crazy. He's had a touch of the sun, undoubtedly. But he's not crazy. He's a brilliant man. I can make him very useful to you."
Roger scratched his head and grinned. "You haven't by any chance had a touch of the sun yourself, Mrs. von Minden?"
The lady laughed. "I must seem so to an outsider. You are still on the first plane while I am on the seventh."
"I'll water the burros while the kettle boils," said Roger hastily. He provided plentifully for the poor brutes, at the same time gazing desperately toward the ranch house. He felt badly in need of advice.
As if in answer to his need he saw a tiny figure come down the trail from the corral. It was Felicia, evidently coming to the Sun Plant. Roger slipped into the living tent and wrote a hasty note to Charley, apprizing her of events and begging her to come to his aid. By the time he had established Mrs. von Minden at her luncheon, Felicia reached the camp. But before his visitor caught sight of her, he had sent the child back with the note. He felt immeasurably relieved when this was accomplished.
"Now, madam," he said, "perhaps you would not mind resting here in the cook tent while I finish covering in the well. It is dangerous to leave it open with all the people that run about the desert in this neighborhood."
Madam graciously gave her assent and Roger fell to work briskly, laughing now and again to himself in a half vexed way. Sooner than he had dared hope, Charley and Felicia appeared. Leaving Felicia to watch the burros, Roger led Charley into the living tent and gave the details of his predicament. Charley laughed quietly but immoderately and Roger joined her.
"How many crazy people have you in the desert?" he asked, finally.
"Uncle Otto is the only one I've known in my four years here. You're having wonderful luck. And the old boy has always pretended he's a bachelor."
"Perhaps he'll shoot her on sight," said Roger in a hopeful voice.
"Oh, what an awful thing to say!" protested Charley.
"Wait till you see the dame," returned Roger. "Charley, I can't have her staying the night here and I don't dare to send her up to your place. She might run amuck."