PROFESSOR "WANDERING WILLIAM"
The ponies, and the larger steeds ridden by the elders of the party,
were pushed forward at a rapid gait all the morning. As had been
explained by Mr. Bell, it was necessary for them to reach Steer
Wells by sundown, as they could not hope to encounter any more water
holes till they gained that point.
In the meantime, water was carried by means of an ingenious
arrangement of Mr. Bell's. This was nothing more or less than two
large bags of water-proof fabric, which could be filled and then
flung on the pack burros' backs. In this way enough was carried for
each of the animals to have a scanty supply, although there was none
too much left over. That day's luncheon halt was made near a stony,
arid canyon in the barren hills, along whose bases they were still
traveling.
While the others set about getting a meal, Peggy and Jess linked
arms and wandered off a short distance from the camp, bent on
exploring. All at once Peggy gave a sudden, sharp little cry.
"Oh, Jess, look! What a funny little creature!"
"Ugh, what a horrid looking thing! What can it be?" exclaimed
Jimsy's sister.
"It's--it's like a large spider!" cried Peggy suddenly, "and what
horrid hairy legs it has, and--oh, Jess--it's going to attack us!"
"I do believe it is o-o-o-h!"
The cry was a long drawn out one of shrill alarm as the "large
spider," as Peggy had termed it, tucked its legs under its fat,
hairy body and made a deliberate spring at the two girls. Only
their agility in leaping backward saved them from being landed upon
by it. But far from being dismayed apparently, the creature was
merely enraged by this failure. It was gathering itself for another
spring when:
Crack!
There was a puff of smoke and a vicious report from Peggy's little
revolver, and the next instant the thing that had so alarmed the two
young girls lay still. At the same moment the rest of the party,
frightened by the sound of the sudden shot, came running up.
"A tarantula!" cried Mr. Bell, "and one of the biggest I have ever
seen. It is fortunate for you, young ladies, that he did not bite
you or there might have been a different tale to tell. Which of you
shot it?"
"Oh, Peggy of course," cheerfully admitted Jess; "I can't pull the
trigger yet without shutting my eyes."
"Hurrah for Peggy Prescott, America's premier girl rifle and
revolver shot!" shouted Jimsy in blatant imitation of a show man.
"What a pair of fangs!" cried Roy, who had picked up the dead
tarantula and was examining it carefully.
The girls could not repress a shudder as they looked at the dead
giant spider, lying with its great legs outstretched, on Roy's hand.
"The Mexicans have a superstition that even if one does not die from
the effects of their bites that the tarantula can inoculate a person
with dancing poison," said Mr. Bell.
"Dancing poison?" they all cried in an astonished chorus.
"Yes," explained the mining man, "that is to say, that its poison
will cause a sort of St. Vitus's dance."
"Good gracious! How unpleasant!" cried Jess. "I'm awfully fond of
dancing, but I wouldn't care to come by my fun that way."
"Better than being bitten by the kissing bug anyhow," teased Roy
mischievously.
The episode of the tarantula furnished plenty of conversation
through the luncheon hour, and caused Miss Prescott many shudders.
The poor lady was beginning to think that more dangers lurked in the
desert than on any of her most dreaded street crossings in New York.
But little time was spent over the midday meal, and then the final
"leg" of their dash across the alkali to Steer Wells began. The sun
was low, bathing the desert in a crimson glow, when Mr. Bell, who
was riding in advance, gave a sudden shout and pointed ahead to a
patch of forlorn looking trees in the distance.
"Steer Wells," he announced.
The boys gave a cheer and plunged forward, with Peggy and Jess close
behind. But the others advanced more sedately.
But as they drew closer to the clump of trees standing so oddly
isolated amid the waste of alkali, they noted with surprise that
they were not to be the only persons to share the hospitality of the
oasis. From amid the foliage a column of blue smoke was rising,
betokening the presence of other wayfarers. Instantly speculation
became rife among the young folks. Who could be the sharers of
their excursion into the untraveled wastes? They were soon to
discover.
A strange figure stepped from the trees as the ponies, in a cloud of
dust, dashed up. It was that of a tall, angular man with a pair of
iron-rimmed spectacles perched on a protuberant nose. He was clean
shaven, except for a goatee, and his wrinkled skin was the color of
old leather. Long locks of gray hair hung lankly almost to his
narrow, sloping shoulders. Above these straggly wisps was perched
jauntily a big sombrero of regulation plainsman type. But the
strangest feature of this strange personage lay in the remainder of
his attire, which consisted of a long black frock coat hanging
baggily to his knees and a pair of trousers of the largest and most
aggressive check pattern imaginable. His feet were encased in
patent leather boots, over which were gaiters of a brilliant yellow.
Under the trees could now be seen a small wagon painted a bright
red, which bore upon its sides the inscription:
"Professor Wandering William, Indian Herb Remedies. They make the
desert of life to bloom like the Rose Gardens of Mount Hybla. 50
cents per bottle or half a dozen for $2.50."
The professor's angular mule team were browsing on the scanty grass
that grew within the circle of trees, while above a fire of chips
and twigs there hung an iron pot, which evidently contained the
professor's supper. As for the professor himself, he clearly stood
revealed in the person of the strange character who now, taking off
his sombrero, waved it three times around his head in solemn rhythm,
and then, raising a high pitched voice, shouted:
"Welcome! Thrice welcome to this fertile spot amid the stony
desert. Like the Great Indian Herb Remedy, it blooms like the Rose
Gardens of Hybla. Ahem!"
The conclusion of this speech was a dry cough, after which the
professor solemnly readjusted his hat, and coming forward, said in
quite ordinary tones:
"Howdy-do."
By this time the remainder of the party had galloped up, and arrived
just as the young folks, hardly knowing what to say, had responded
"howdy-do" likewise.
"I hardly expected to find anyone else here," said Mr. Bell, and
then by way of introduction, he rattled off their names, the
professor bowing low as each was presented.
"And now," said he, "allow me to present myself, Professor Wandering
William, proprietor and originator of the Great Indian Herb
Medicine, good alike for man or beast, child or adult. Insist on
the original and only. Allow me," and the speaker suddenly whisked
round with unexpected agility and darting toward his wagon opened
the back of the vehicle and presently reappeared with several small
bottles. He handed one to each of the new arrivals.
"Samples!" he explained, "and free as the birds of the air. If you
like the samples, make a purchase. Money back if not exactly as
represented."
With as grave faces as they could assume, they all thanked this
queer character, and then Mr. Bell asked.
"May I inquire what you are doing in the desert, Professor. I
should think you would find this part of the country a most
unprofitable field."
"My dear sir," rejoined the professor, "twice a year I make a
pilgrimage into the desert to gather the ingredients of The Remedy.
You behold me now almost at the conclusion of my labors. In a few
days I shall return to the haunts of civilization and gladden the
hearts of mankind by disbursing The Remedy on my terms as quoted on
the wagon yonder."
The professor lent a hand in unsaddling and unpacking the stock of
the adventurers, and proved to be of great assistance in several
ways. Evidently he was an experienced plainsman and he suggested
many ways in which their equipment might be lightened and adjusted.
His odd manner of talking only possessed him at intervals, and at
other times he seemed to converse like any rational being.
This put a queer idea into Peggy's head.
"I wonder if he's acting a part?" she thought to herself. But the
next minute the professor's exaggerated gestures and tones convinced
her to the contrary. Although his manner was as outlandish as his
choice of clothes, still there was a certain something about it
which negatived the idea of its being assumed, unless the professor
was a most consummate actor. He informed the party that he had set
out to cut across the desert from California and had had several
narrow escapes from death by reason of lack of water.
I le appeared much interested when Mr. Bell in formed him that the
party had started out from Blue Creek, adding--as he deemed wisest--
that they were a party of tenderfeet anxious to explore the desert
at first hand.
"So you were in Blue Creek recently, eh?" he said, with an entire
lack of his exaggerated manner, but in crisp tones that fairly
snapped; "didn't hear anything there of Red Bill Summers, did you?"
With a half smile Mr. Bell replied that they had not had the
pleasure of the gentleman's acquaintance.
"Don't know about the pleasure part of it," shot out the professor,
"he's the most desperate crook this side of Pikes Peak. I'd give a
good deal for a look at him myself. I--I have a professional
interest in him," he added, with a queer smile which set his eyes to
snapping and crackling.
"A medical interest, I suppose?" inquired Mr. Bell, "you think he'd
make an interesting study?"
"Most interesting," was the reply in quiet, thoughtful tones.
But the next instant the professor was back at his old pompous,
high-flown verbal gymnastics, and after supper he entertained them
till bedtime with tales of his experiences, to which both boys and
girls listened with wide-eyed astonishment.
"The oddest character I have ever encountered," declared Mr. Bell,
as the professor, after bowing low to the ladies and apostrophizing
the male portion of his audience, retired to his red wagon, within
which he slept.
They all agreed to this, but Peggy said rather timidly:
"Somehow I don't think he's quite as odd as we think him."
"What do you mean, my dear?" asked Mr. Bell.
"Why, when he spoke about that Red Billy whatever his name was, did
you see how different he looked? Younger somehow, and--and oh,
quite different. I don't know just how, but he wasn't the same at
all."
"Oh, Peggy's trying to work up a romantic mystery about the
professor," teased Jess; "maybe he's a wandering British lord in
disguise or the interesting but wayward son of a millionaire with a
hobby for socialism."
The others burst into laughter at Jess's raillery, but Miss Prescott
gently said:
"There is a great deal in womanly intuition, my dear, and for my
part I had the same feeling as you. I mean that that man was not
just what he appeared to be, namely, a chattering, ignorant quack."
"Well, as we may have him for a neighbor for some days we shall have
a chance to watch him closely," said Mr. Bell.
But in this the leader of the party of adventurers turned out to be
wrong, for when they awoke the next morning the grove did not
contain the professor or his red wagon. Only the ashes of his fire
were there to tell of his sojourn. But on one of the trees they
found pinned a note.
"Sorry to leave so abruptly, but circumstances compelled. Perhaps
we shall meet again. Who knows!"
And that, for many days, was to be the last they saw of the
professor. When they re-encountered him--but of the surprising
circumstances under which this was to take place we shall learn
later.