Chapter 7

WHEN DREAMS COME TRUE.

Merry sat down on a chunk of adobe which had fallen out of the wall. Placing the lamp in the niche left by the chunk in its fall, he hooked up a knee between his hands, and grew thoughtful. Clancy found a seat for himself, and waited for the result of his chum's reflections. He waited so long that he became impatient.

"What's at the back of your head, Chip?" he asked. "There isn't a thing at the back of mine."

Frank dropped his knee, and looked at his watch.

"It's one o'clock in the morning," said he. "Let's have lunch."

"An ounce of grub is worth a pound of theory any old time," said the red-headed fellow cheerfully. "I'll lug in the canteens and the chuck bag."

He went out and returned with them, and he and Frank got busy with some sardine sandwiches, crackers, and cheese which McGurvin had provided for a "hand-out." The water in the canteens was refreshing, and likewise the fare, rough though it was.

"In the first place, Clan," reasoned Merry, "we've got to consider that it isn't exactly a cinch that Borrodaile has been here. It's probable, but not absolutely certain. Some desert Arab may have raided the place and carted away his stuff."

"Not likely," returned Clancy, swallowing a mouthful of sandwich. As he was about to take another bite, he had a thought that caused him to look up quickly. "Unless," he added. "Blunt and his friends did the looting. They came this way during the afternoon. They're not here now. Where are they?"

Frank shook his head.

"You might just as well ask where Porter is, or the prof," said he. "It's hopeless to try to keep track of Barzy Blunt, or to figure out from what he's done, what he's going to do next. From what McGurvin said, I thought Blunt had come here with some of his friends. Maybe he