had been
promised. So I make the breakfast early."

"I didn't sleep well myself the first night or two," said Roger. "Desert
silence makes a lot of noise to a town-bred man. Hey!"--going to the
door--"Ern! You lazy Dutchman! The new cook'll leave if you don't get up
for your breakfast."

Gustav and Roger were half through the meal when Ernest appeared.
"Mud-pie making is hard work," he groaned, sliding stiffly onto the
bench beside Roger.

"I certainly hate to make adobe brick when every day counts so," said
Roger. "Let's use sheet iron."

"It'll be better to take Dick's advice," insisted Ernest. "He says the
dust storms are frightful here and the heat worse. The adobe shelter
will be grateful on many counts."

"Ve'll all vork hard," said Gustav, "and the 'dobe vill be up strong,
before ve know it. Ven it is done, it is done good, and that is right. I
vash the damn dishes. You go make the mud mixing. Then I come."

"We're going to hate to let that chap go when his visit's up," said
Roger, as he and Ernest began work on the adobe.

"Maybe we won't have to let him go," replied Ernest. "You stir the mess
up, Rog, and I'll put it into the molds. Dick is going on with his
grading, but he'll be over in a day or so and show us how to begin the
house building."

"The trouble with you is, Ern, that you're flighty-minded. You're tired
of making a Sun Plant and all excitement over building a mud house."

"I wouldn't have a single track mind like yours for a million dollars,"
returned Ernest cheerfully.

Roger grinned and presently began to whistle as he worked. Mrs. von
Minden proved to be an exceedingly unexacting guest. After it was
evident to her that her hosts had not the slightest intention of doing
special cooking for her she did her own. She ate only two meals a day,
preparing one at mid-morning and one at sundown. The remainder of the
day she spent within her tent, reading or rocking in her chair,
concentrating on the camp work. She seldom talked and then only on the
matter of what she called Yogi-ism.

Gustav took a violent dislike to her and refused to work if she looked
at him. Roger declared that on the next trip to town he was going to
telegraph Phoenix and see if she had not escaped from an insane
asylum. But Ernest only laughed.

"Poor old soul! She's not crazy except on her religion. Let her alone.
She's no expense and no trouble!"

"She gives me the willies," insisted Roger. "I never knew before