o square and
angular and more like that of his uncle. Mr. Wallace was thin but of
very large frame. His close-cropped hair revealed a high forehead,
beneath which shone two intensely black eyes. A long, curving nose gave
his face its hawk-like effect, and thin lips and strong chin completed
the likeness to some great bird of prey.

"What are you doing with that fur overcoat in June, George?" asked Mrs.
St. John with smile.

"Keeping warm!" shot back the explorer as he pushed away his plate.
"This beastly rain goes to the bone, Etta. I landed only yesterday and
got the first train up here after leaving my cases at the Explorers'
Club."

"Come on with the yarn, uncle!" exclaimed Burt eagerly. "Where've you
been this time?"

Mr. Wallace lit one of his brother-in-law's cigars with huge enjoyment
and led the way to the library without answering. When all four were
comfortably ensconced about the big table he started in.

"Let's see. I wrote you from Naples last time, wasn't it?" The others
nodded. "That was just before the war. I got a chance to go to the front
as special correspondent, and snapped it up. I hung around for a while
at Tripoli, then took a trip to the Turkish camp. There I got into a
scrap with a Turk officer and had to run for it. There was no place to
run except into the desert, so it took me quite a while to make
civilization again."

"Good Heavens!" exclaimed Burt's father. "I suppose you circled around
and made Algiers?"

"Tried to, but a bunch of Gharian slave dealers pulled me into the
mountains. I spent two months in the chain gang; then they sold me
south. There was no help for it. Instead of escaping to French territory
I sneaked off with a racing camel and ended up at the Gold Coast two
months ago."

"What!" Mr. St. John leaped up in amazement. "Do you mean to say you
crossed the whole Sahara a second time, from north to south?"

"That's what," declared Mr. Wallace. Burt stared at him wide-eyed.
"Found some of my old friends and they helped me along. How are you
fixed, Tom? Can you put me up all right, Etta?"

"Your old room hasn't been touched," smiled Mrs. St. John as she glanced
at her husband. The latter nodded.

"All fine and dandy, old man. Oh, I'm getting along pretty well. We've
got some new buildings over at the works. Turning out some great little
old cars too. Say, how long are you going to stay?"

"That depends." Mr. Wallace smiled whimsically. "I have a book that I
want