Chip!" warned Clancy.

Cautiously the boys pushed through the doorway and into the room that
lay beyond. They looked around them, as Merry flashed the beam of light
over the ruinous walls. Instinctively a gasp of surprise escaped them.

A cot had once stood at the side of the room, and there had been an oil
stove in the place, and a shelf with some books, a chair, a trunk, and a
few other odds and ends of primitive housekeeping. But now there was
nothing. Every object had been cleaned out of the place and only the
bare walls remained.

"Professor Borrodaile isn't here, Clan," said young Merriwell presently.
"But he has been here, and made off with his plunder, that's plain. The
question is where is the professor now?"

It was a startling discovery the boys had made; not in itself alone, but
in the question to which it had given rise.

CHAPTER VII.

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