"Say, I want to go home," he cried.
"Trot right along. There's nothing to stop ye," answered the guide sarcastically.
"Afraid?" questioned Ned jeeringly.
"No, I'm not afraid. Just scared stiff, that's all," retorted the fat boy.
The shelf of rock that sheltered them had now become the base of a miniature Niagara Falls. The water was pouring over it in tons, making a roaring sound that made that of the river seem faint and far away.
Jim Nance was plainly worried. Tad Butler saw this and so did the Professor, but neither mentioned the fact. Their location was no longer dry. The spray from the waterfall had drenched them to the skin. No one complained. They were too used to hardships.
All at once there came a report louder and different from the others, followed by a crashing, a thundering, a quaking of the rocks beneath their feet, that sent the blood from the face of every man in the party. Even Dad's face grayed ever so little.
The next second each one was thrown violently to the ground. A sound was in their ears as if the universe had blown up.
"We're killed!" howled Chunky.
"Help, help!" yelled Walter Perkins.
"What—-what is it?" roared the Professor.
"We're struck!" shouted Tad.
"Lie still. Hug the wall!" bellowed the stentorian voice of Jim Nance, who himself had crept closer to the Canyon wall and lay hugging it tightly.
The deafening, terrifying reports continued. One corner of the ledge over their heads split off, sending a volley of stones showering over them, leaving the faces of some of the party flecked with blood where the jagged particles had cut into their flesh.
It was a terrible moment for the Pony Rider Boys.
Not one could collect his thoughts sufficiently to reason out what had taken place. The guide, however, had known from the first. He feared that his charges would be killed, but there was nothing more that he could do.
The bombarding continued, some explosions sounding near at hand, others further down or up the Canyon, but each of sufficient force to send shivers up and down the spines of the Pony Rider Boys. They never had experienced anything approaching this.
"I'm going to stand up," declared Tad, rising to his feet. "I won't be killed any quicker standing than lying down. Besides, I don't like to shirk."
"Stand up if you want to, but keep close to the wall," ordered Dad, himself rising to his feet.
One by one the boys got up, Professor Zepplin following the example of the guide. They had to shout in speaking in order to make themselves heard above the bombardment, the roaring of the river and the cataract over their heads.
"What is going on up there?" shouted Tad.
"Mountain falling in!"
"I knew it! I knew it!" yelled Chunky. "I knew something would fall down as soon as I got here."
No one laughed. The situation was too serious for laughter.
"Is it a land or a rock slide?" questioned Tad further.
"Both," shouted Nance. "Mostly boulders."
The rain has loosened them and they are raining down on us. We're lucky we had this shelf to get under."
"From the present outlook I am afraid the shelf isn't going to protect us much longer," said Tad.
"Keep close to the wall and you will be all right. It won't break off short up to the wall. I've seen rock slides, but never anything quite like this. You see, the spirit of the Canyon was right," nodded Nance.
"Spirits? What spirits?" demanded Chunky. "Is this place haunted? Don't tell me it is. Haven't I got enough to worry me already without being chased by ghosts?
"Chased by goats?" shouted the Professor.
"Who said anything about goats?" retorted Stacy. "I said g-h-o-s-t-s, spooks, spookees or spookors or whatever you've a mind to call them."
"Oh, I hope you are not losing your mind, Stacy."
"Might as well lose my mind as to lose my life. Mind wouldn't be any use to me after I was dead, would it?"
"The storm is dying out," called Ned.
Tad started to step from under the shelf, Nance grasped and hauled him back. Just then a great boulder, weighing many tons, struck the rock just above their heads, then bounded off into the river, which it struck with a mighty splash. The contact with the rocks sent off a shower of sparks, a perfect rain of them.
"I—-I guess I need a guardian," said the lad rather weakly.
"Yes, you probably would have been killed by the smaller pieces that broke off," answered Nance. "Be content to stay where you are."
"How long have we got to stay cooped up in this half cave?" demandedStacy.
"All night, maybe," answered Dad.
"Good night!" said the fat boy, Slipping down until he had assumed a sitting posture. He lay down and was asleep in a short time. Stacy woke with a start when another giant rock smote the wall just above their cave, exploding into thousands of pieces from the violent contact.
"Stop that noise! How do you suppose a fellow's going to sleep when——-"
Stacy struggled slowly to his feet when he saw the drawn faces of his companions.
"Was that another of them?" he asked hesitatingly.
"Yes," answered Tad, with a nod. "It is grand, but terrible."
"I don't see anything grand about it. I guess I won't lie down again. I never can sleep any more after being awakened from my first nap," declared the fat boy.
No one slept for the rest of the night. The bombardment continued at intervals all through the black, terrifying night. The Colorado, into which billions of gallons of water had been dumped, was rising rapidly, an angry, threatening flood.
"Is there any danger of the river overflowing on us?" asked ProfessorZepplin.
"No. No single night's rain would do it. The rain is pretty nearly ended now, as you can see for yourself. But there's no telling how long those fellows will continue to roll down. I've seen the same thing before, but this is the worst," declared Dad.
"All on account of the Pony Rider Boys," piped Stacy. "Miss Nature is determined to give us our money's worth in experience. I've had mine already. She can't quit any too soon to suit me."
After a time the guide crept out, his ears keyed sharply to catch warning sounds from above. Nance had been out but a moment when he darted back under the protecting ledge. He was just in time. A giant boulder struck the earth right in front of their place of refuge. From that moment on no one ventured out. About an hour before daylight, the storm having lulled, the failing boulders coming down with less frequency, all hands sank down on their wet blankets one by one, and dropped off to sleep.
When they awakened the day had dawned. The sun was glowing on the peaks of Pluto Pyramid and the Algonkin Terraces far above them on the opposite side of the gorge. Tad Butler was the first to open his eyes that morning. He sprang up with a shout.
"Sleepy heads! Turn out!"
Dad was on his feet with a bound. Then came the Professor, Ned and Walter in the order named, with Stacy Brown limping along painfully at the rear.
"How do you feel this fine morning?" glowed Tad, nodding at Stacy.
"I? Oh, I'm all bunged up. How's the weather?"
"Nature is smiling," answered Tad.
"All right. As long as she doesn't grin, I won't kick. If she grinsI'm blest if I'll stand for it."
"Whose turn is it to get breakfast?" questioned Ned.
"What little there is to get I will attend to," said Tad. "We are long on experience but short on food."
Still, breakfast was a cheerful meal, even though all were still wet, their muscles stiffened from sleeping in puddles, from which they were obliged to dip the water for their coffee. They enjoyed the meal just as much as if it had been a banquet, however.
Dad's face did not reflect the general joy that was apparent on the faces of the others. Tad observed this, but made no comment. Finally Stacy Brown discovered something of the sort, too.
"Dad, you've got a grouch on this lovely morning," said Stacy.
"No, I never have a grouch."
"Your whiskers are rising. I thought you had."
"I'd rather have my whiskers standing out some of the time than to have my tongue hanging out all of the time," replied the guide witheringly.
"I guess that will be about all for you, Chunky," jeered Ned.
"Do we start as soon as we have finished here?" asked the Professor ofNance.
"We do not," was the brief reply.
"May I ask why not?"
"Because we can't start."
"Can't?" wondered Professor Zepplin.
Tad saw that something was wrong. What that something was he had not the remotest idea.
"No, we won't go up Bright Angel Trail to-day."
"Why not? Why won't we?" piped Stacy.
"Because there isn't any Bright Angel Trail to go up," returned the guide grimly. "The bad place in the trail was all torn out by the ripping boulders last night. Nothing short of a bird could make its way over that stretch of trail now."
"Then what are we going to do?" cried the Professor.
"Do? We're going to stay here. Escape is for the present wholly cut off——-"
"Can't we climb up a trail lower down?" asked Ned.
"Ain't no trail this side of the wall by the river, and the river is just as bad as the wall. I reckon we'll stay here for a time at least."
The Pony Rider Boys looked at each other solemnly. Theirs was, indeed, a serious predicament, much more so than they realized.
For a moment following the announcement no one spoke.
The Professor gazed straight into the stern face of the guide, whose whiskers were still drooping.
"We are prisoners here? Is that it, Nance?" stammered Professor Zepplin.
"That's about it, I reckon. The trail's busted. There ain't no other way to get out that I know of and I reckon I know these canyons pretty well."
"Then what shall we do?"
"Well, I reckon we'll wait till somebody misses us and comes down after us."
"Oh, well, they will do that this morning. Of course they will miss us," declared the Professor, as if the matter were entirely settled.
The expression on Dad's face plainly showed that he was not quite so confident as was the Professor. There was one factor that Professor Zepplin had not taken into consideration. Food! There was barely enough left for a meal for one person. Dad surmised this, so he asked Tad just how much food they had left.
"Our supply," said Tad, "consists of three biscuit, one orange and two lemons."
The boys groaned.
"I'll take the biscuit. You can have the rest," was Chunky's liberal offer. "How about it?"
"You will get a lemon handed to you at twelve o'clock noon to-day," jeered Ned Rector.
"Then I'll pass it along to the one who needs it the most," retortedStacy quickly.
"The question is," said the Professor, "is there nothing that we can do to attract the attention of others?"
"I have been thinking of that," answered Nance. "I wish now that we had brought our rifles."
"Why?"
"To shoot and attract attention of whoever may be on the rim."
"We might shoot our revolvers," suggested Tad.
"We will do that. It is doubtful if the reports can be heard above, and even then I am doubtful about any of the tenderfeet understanding what the shots mean. About our only hope is that some one who knows will come down the trail. They won't go further than the Gardens, but finding our mustangs there a mountaineer would understand."
"Shall I take a shot?" asked Walter.
"Yes."
Walter fired five shots into the river. After an interval Chunky let go five more. This continued until each had fired a round of five shots. After each round they listened for an answering shot from above, but none came. Thus matters continued until noon, when the remaining food was distributed among the party.
"This is worse than nothing," cried Chunky. "This excites my appetite.If you see me frothing at the mouth don't think I've got a dog bite.That's my appetite fighting with my stomach. I'll bet my gun that theappetite wins too."
The day wore away slowly. Tad made frequent trips down the river as far as he could get before being stopped by a great wall of rock that rose abruptly for nearly a thousand feet above him. He gazed up this glittering expanse of rock until his neck ached, then he went back to camp. An idea was working in Tad's mind, but it was as yet undeveloped.
At intervals the shots were tried again, though no reply followed. Night came on. Before dark Dad had gathered some driftwood that he found in crevices of the rocks. The wood was almost bone dry and a crackling, cheerful fire was soon burning.
"If we only had something to eat now, we'd be all right," said Walter mournfully.
"You want something to eat?" questioned Chunky.
"I should say I do."
"Oh, well, that's easily fixed."
Stacy stepped over to a rock, made a motion as if ringing a telephone bell, then listened.
"Hello! hello! Is that the hotel, El Tovar Hotel? Very well; this is Brown. Brown! Yes. Well, we want you to send out dinner for six. Six! Can't you understand plain English? Yes, six. Oh, well, I think we'll have some porter house steak smothered in onions. Smothered! We'll have some corn cakes and honey, some—some—-um—-some baked potatoes, about four quarts of strawberries. And by the way, got any apple pie? Yes? Well, you might send down a half dozen pies and——-"
Chunky got no further. With a howl, Ned Rector, Tad Butler and WalterPerkins made a concerted rush for him.
Ned fell upon the unfortunate fat boy first. Stacy went down in a heap with Ned jamming his head into the dirt that had been washed up by the river at flood time. A moment more and Ned was at the bottom of the heap with Stacy, the other two boys having piled on top.
"Here, here!" shouted the Professor.
"Let 'em scrap," grinned Dad. "They'll forget they're hungry."
They did. After the heap had been unpiled, the boys got up, their clothes considerably the worse for the conflict, their faces red, but smiling and their spirits considerably higher.
"You'll get worse than that if you tantalize us in that way again," warned Tad. "We can stand for your harmless jokes, but this is cruel——-"
"—-ty to animals," finished Chunky.
"What you'll get will make you sure of that."
"Come over here and get warm, Brown," called the guide.
"Oh, he's warmed sufficiently," laughed Tad. "We have attended to that.He won't get chills to-night, I promise you."
Breathing hard, their eyes glowing, the boys squatted down around the camp fire. No sooner had they done so than a thrilling roar sounded off somewhere in a canyon to their right, the roar echoing from rock to rock, from canyon to canyon, dying away in the far distance.
"For goodness' sake, what is that?" gasped Stacy.
"Mountain lion," answered the guide shortly.
"Can—-can he get here?" stammered Walter.
"He can if he wants to."
"I—-I hope he changes his mind if he does want to," breathed Stacy.
"I wish we had our rifles," muttered Ned.
"What for?" demanded Dad.
"To shoot lions, of course."
"Humph!"
"Couldn't we have a lion hunt while we are out here?" asked Tad enthusiastically.
"You could if the lion didn't hunt you."
"Wouldn't that be great, fellows?" cried Tad. "The Pony Rider Boys as lion hunters."
"Great," chorused the boys. "When shall it be?" added Ned.
"It won't be till after we get out of this hole," declared Dad. "And from present indications, that won't be to-night."
"Tell us something about the lions," urged Walter. "Are they ugly?"
"Well, they ain't exactly household pets," answered the guide, with a faint smile.
"Is it permitted to hunt them?" interjected the Professor.
"Yes, there's no law against it. The lions kill the deer and the government is glad to be rid of the lions. But you won't get enough of them to cause a flurry in the lion market."
"No, there's more probability of there being a panic in the Pony Rider market," chuckled Tad.
"I'm not afraid," cried Stacy.
"No, Chunky isn't afraid," jeered Ned. "He doesn't want to go home when the marbles roll down from the mountain! Oh, no, he isn't afraid! He's just looking for dangerous sport."
Their repartee was interrupted by another roar, louder than the first. But though they listened for a long time there was no repetition of the disturbing roar of the king of the canyons.
Soon after that the lads went to bed. Tonight they slept soundly, for they had had little sleep the previous night, as the reader knows. When they awakened on the following morning the conditions had not changed. They were still prisoners in the Grand Canyon not far from the foot of Bright Angel Trail. All hands awoke to the consciousness that unless something were done, and at once, they would find themselves face to face with starvation. It was not a cheerful prospect.
There was no breakfast that morning, though Chunky, who had picked up a cast-away piece of orange peel, was munching it with great satisfaction, rolling his eyes from one to the other of his companions.
"Don't. You might excite your appetite again," warned Ned.
Tad, who had been out for another exploring tour along the river, had returned, walking briskly.
"Well, did you find a trail?" demanded Chunky.
"No, but I have found a way out of this hole," answered Tad, with emphasis.
"What?" exclaimed Dad, whirling on him almost savagely.
"Yes, I have found a way. I'm going to carry out a plan and I promise that with good luck I'll get you all out of here safely. I shall need some help, but the thing can be done, I know."
"What is your plan?" asked the Professor.
"I'll tell you," said Tad. "But don't interrupt me, please, until I have finished."
The Pony Riders drew closer, Dad leaned against the rocky wall of theCanyon, while the Professor peered anxiously into the lad's face.
"I'll bet it's a crazy plan," muttered Stacy.
"We will hear what you have to say and decide upon its feasibility afterwards," announced the Professor.
"Mr. Nance, if a man were below the horseshoe down the Canyon there, he would be able to make his way over to the Bright Angel Trail, would he not?"
"Yes. A fellow who knew how to climb among the rocks could make it."
"He could get right over on our own trail, could he not?"
"Sure! But what good would that do us?"
"Couldn't he let down ropes and get us out?"
"I reckon he could at that."
"You don't think we are going to be discovered here until perhaps it is too late, do you, Mr. Nance?"
"We always have hopes. There being nothing we can do, the only thing for us is to sit down and hope."
"And starve? No, thank you. Not for mine!"
"Nor mine. It's time we men did something," declared Stacy pompously.
"As I have had occasion to remark before, children should be seen and not heard," asserted Ned Rector.
"Kindly be quiet. We are listening to Master Tad," rebuked theProfessor. "Go ahead, Tad."
"There isn't much to say, except that I propose to get on the other side of the horseshoe and climb back over the rocks to our trail. If I am fortunate enough to get there the rest will be easy and I'll have you up in a short time. How about it, Dad?" asked the boy lightly, as if his proposal were nothing out of the ordinary.
Dad took a few steps forward.
"How do ye propose to get across that stretch of water there to reach the other side of the horseshoe?"
"Swim it, of course."
The guide laughed harshly.
"Swim it? Why, kid a boat wouldn't live in that boiling pot for two minutes. What could a mere man hope to do against that demon?"
"It is my opinion that a man would do better for a few moments against the water than a boat would. I think I can do it."
"No, if anybody does that kind of a trick it will be Jim Nance."
"Do you swim?"
"Like a chunk of marble. Living on the plains all a fellow's life doesn't usually make a swimmer of him."
"I thought so. That makes me all the more determined to do this thing."
"Somebody hold me or I'll be doing it myself," cried Chunky.
No one paid any attention to the fat boy's remark.
"I can't permit it, Tad," said the Professor, with an emphatic shake of the head. "No, you could never make it. It would be suicide."
"I'm going to try it," insisted the Pony Rider.
"You most certainly are not."
"But there is little danger. Don't you see I should be floating down with the current. Almost before I knew it I should be on the other side of the horseshoe there. Besides you would have hold of the rope."
"Rope?" demanded Dad.
"Yes, of course."
"Where are you going to get ropes? They're all up there on the mountainside."
"We still have our lassoes."
"Explain. I don't understand," urged Professor Zepplin.
"It is my plan to tie the lassoes together. We have six of them. That will make nearly two hundred feet. One or two of you can take hold of the free end of the rope, the other end being about my waist. In case I should be carried away from the shore, why all you have to do will be to haul me back. Isn't that a simple proposition?"
"It's a crazy one," nodded the Professor.
"Come to think it over, I believe it could be done," reflected Nance. "If I could swim at all I'd do it myself, but I'd drown inside of thirty seconds after I stepped a foot in the water. Why, I nearly drown every time I wash for breakfast."
Stacy was about to make a remark, but checked himself. It was evidently not a seemly remark. It must have been more than ordinarily flippant to have caused Chunky to restrain himself.
"I move we let Tad try it, Professor," proposed Ned.
"I don't approve of it at all. No, sir, I most emphatically do not."
"But surely, Professor, there can be no danger in it at all. It is very simple," urged young Butler.
Tad knew better. It was not a simple thing to do. It was distinctly a perilous, if not a foolhardy feat. Nance knew this, too, but he had grown to feel a great confidence in Tad Butler. He believed that if anyone could brave those swirling waters and come out alive, that one was Tad Butler. But it was a desperate chance. Still, with the rope tied around the lad's waist, it was as the boy had said, they could haul him back quickly.
"Professor, I am in favor of letting him try it if he is a good swimmer," announced the guide.
"Pshaw, you couldn't drown Tad," declared Ned.
"No, you couldn't drown Tad," echoed Chunky. "Not any more than you could drown me."
"Perhaps you would like to try it yourself?" grinned Nance.
"Yes, I can hardly hold myself. I am afraid every minute that I'll jump right into that raging flood there and strike out for the other side of the horseshoe," returned Stacy, striking a diving attitude.
They laughed, but as quickly sobered. Tad was already at work making firm splices in the two ropes that he held in his hand.
"Pass over your ropes, boys. We have no time to lose. The river is getting higher every minute now, and there's no telling what condition it will be in an hour from now."
The others passed over their ropes, some willingly enough, others with reluctance. Tad spliced them together, tested each knot with all his strength and nodded his approval.
"I guess they will hold now," he said, stripping off his coat after having thrown his hat aside and tossed off his cartridge belt and revolver.
"Walt, you take care of those things for me, please, and in case I get you folks out, fetch them up with you."
Walter Perkins nodded as he picked up the belongings of his chum.
"Mr. Nance," said Tad, "I think you and Ned are the strongest, so I'll ask you two to take hold of the rope when I get started. If you need help the Professor will lend a hand."
Professor Zepplin shook his head. He did not approve of this at all. However, it seemed their only hope. Tad started for the lower end of the walled-in enclosure, the others following him. The lad made the rope fast around his waist, twisting it about so that the knot was on the small of his back. Thus the rope would not interfere with his swimming. He then uncoiled the rope, stretching it along the ground to make sure that there were no kinks in it.
"There, everything appears to be in working order. Don't you envy me my fine swim, boys?" Tad laughed cheerfully.
"Yes, we do," chorused the boys.
It must not be thought that Tad Butler did not fully realize the peril into which he was so willingly going. He knew there was a big chance against his ever making his goal, but he was willing to take the slender remaining chance that he might make it.
"All ready," he said coolly.
Dad and Ned took hold of the rope.
"Don't hold on to it at all unless I shout to you to do so. I must be left free. Let me be the judge if I am to be hauled back or not."
With a final glance behind, to see that all was in readiness, Tad stepped to the edge of the water. Chunky pressed up close to him.
"Is there any last request that you want me to make to relatives or friends, Tad?" asked the fat boy solemnly.
"Tell them to be good to my Chunky, for he's such a tender plant that he will perish unless he has the most loving care. Here I go!"
With a wave of his hand, Tad plunged into the swirling waters. Though his plunge was seen, the sound of it was borne down by the thunderous roar of the river. As Butler vanished it was as though he had gone to his instant doom.
Instinctively the two men holding the rope tightened their grip, beginning to haul in. But Tad's head showed and they eased off again.
Just a few moments more, and Tad was seized by the waters and hurled up into the air.
"He jumps like a bass," chuckled Chunky.
"Quit that talk!" ordered Ned sharply. "Poor Tad, we've let him go to a hopeless death!"
All watched Tad breathlessly—-whenever they could see him. More often the boy was invisible to those on land.
A strong swimmer, and an intelligent one, Tad had more than found his match in these angry, cruel waters. Though the current was in the direction that he wanted to go, the eddies seemed bent on dragging him out to the middle of the stream, where he must be most helpless of all.
Tad was fighting with all the strength that remained to him when an up-wave met him, caught him and hurled him back fully ten feet. Butler now found his feet entangled in the rope.
"He's having a fearful battle!" gasped Walter, whose face had gone deathly pale.
Professor Zepplin nodded, unable to speak. By a triumph of strength, backed by his cool head and keen judgment, Tad brought himself out of this dangerous pocket of water, only to meet others. His strength seemed to be failing now.
"Haul him back!" ordered the Professor hoarsely. "Haul him back!"
They tried, but at that moment the rope parted—-sawed in two over a sharp edge of rock!
The land end of the rope fell limp in the hands of Jim Nance and NedRector.
"It's gone—-gone!" wailed Ned.
"That settles him," answered the guide in a hopeless tone.
"Oh, he's lost, he's lost!" cried Walter. "Can no one do anything?"
Chunky, with sudden determination, threw off his coat, and started on a run for the river. Dodging the Professor's outstretched hands, Chunky sprang into the water.
With a roar Dad hurled the rope toward the fat boy. The guide had no time in which to fashion a loop, but he had thrown the rope doubled. Fortunately the coil caught Chunky's right foot and the lad was hauled back feet first, choking, half drowned, his head being dragged under water despite his struggles to get free.
The instant they hauled him to the bank the Professor seized the lad and began shaking him.
"Leggo! Lemme go, I tell you. I'm going after Tad!"
Stacy Brown was terribly in earnest this time. He was fighting mad because they had pulled him back from what would have been sure death to him. They had never given Stacy credit for such pluck, and Ned and Walter gazed at him with new interest in their eyes. It was necessary to hold the fat boy. He was still struggling, determined to go to Tad's rescue.
In the meantime their attention had been drawn from Tad for the moment.When they looked again they failed to find him.
"There he is," shouted Ned, as the boy was seen to rise from the water and plunge head foremost into it again. Tad did not appear to be fighting now.
"He's helpless! He's hurt!" cried the Professor.
"I reckon that's about the end of the lad," answered Nance in a low tone. "There's nothing we can do but to wait."
"I see him again!" shouted Walter.
They could see the lad being tumbled this way and that, hurled first away from the shore, then on toward it. Nance was regarding the buffeted Pony Rider keenly. He saw that Tad was really nearing the shore, but that he was helpless.
"What has happened to him?" demanded the Professor hoarsely. "Is he drowned?"
"It's my opinion that he has been banged against a rock and knocked out. I can't tell what'll be the end of it, but it looks mighty bad. There he goes, high and dry!" fairly screamed Dad, while his whiskers tilted upwards at a sharp angle.
Tad had been hurled clear of the water, hurled to the dry rocks on which he had been flung as if the river wanted no more of him. The watchers began to shout. They danced about almost beside themselves with anxiety. No one could go to Tad's assistance, if, indeed, he were not beyond assistance.
A full twenty minutes of this nerve-racking anxiety had passed when Dad thought he saw a movement of Tad's form. A few moments later the boy was seen to struggle to a sitting posture, where he sat for a short time, both hands supporting his head.
Such a yell as the Pony Rider Boys uttered might have been heard clear up on the rim of the Grand Canyon had there been any one there to hear it. Dad danced a wild hornpipe, the Professor strode up and down, first thrusting his hands into his pockets, then withdrawing and waving them above his head. Stacy had settled down on the rocks with the tears streaming down his cheeks. Stacy wasn't joking now. This emotion was real.
They began to shout out Tad's name. It was plain that he heard them, for he waved a listless hand then returned to his former position.
"That boy is all iron," breathed the admiring guide.
The noise of the river was so great that they could not ask him if he were hurt seriously. But Tad answered the question himself a few minutes later by getting up. He stood for a moment swaying as if he would fall over again, then staggered to the wall, against which he leaned, still holding his head.
"He must have got an awful wallop," declared Dad.
Shortly after that Tad appeared to have recovered somewhat, for he was seen to be gazing up over the rocks, apparently trying to choose a route for himself.
"How can he ever make that dizzy climb in his condition?" groaned theProfessor.
"We'll see. I think he can do anything," returned Nance.
Tad walked back and forth a few times, exercising his muscles, then turned toward the rocks which he began to climb. He proceeded slowly and with great caution, evidently realizing the peril of his undertaking, but taking no greater chances than he was obliged to do.
Little by little he worked his way upward, Now and then halting, clinging to the rocks for support while he rested. After a time he looked down at his companions. Nance waved a hand, signaling Tad to turn to the right. Tad saw and understood the signal and acted accordingly.
Once he stood up and gazed off over the rugged peaks, sharp knife-like edges and sheer wails before him. There seemed not sufficient foothold for a bird where he was standing, and though a thousand feet above the river, he seemed not to feel the height at all nor to be in the least dizzy.
It was dangerous work, exhausting work; but oh! what self-reliance, what pluck and levelheadedness was Tad Butler displaying. Had he never accomplished anything worth while in his life, those who saw him now could but admire the lad's wonderful courage.
They hung upon his movements, scarcely breathing at all, as little by little the lad crept along, now swinging by his hands from one ledge to another, now creeping around a sharp bend on hand and knees, now hanging with nothing more secure than thin air underneath him, with face flattened against a rock, resting. It was a sight to thrill and to make even strong men shiver.
For a long time Tad disappeared from view. The watchers did not know where he had gone, but Nance explained that he had crept around the opposite side of the butte where he had last been seen, hoping to discover better going there, which Jim was of the opinion he would find.
This proved to be the case when after what seemed an interminable time, the Pony Rider once more appeared, creeping steadily on toward the trail above the broken spot.
This went on for the greater part of two hours.
"He's safe. Thank God!" cried the guide.
The Pony Rider Boys whooped.
"You stay here!" directed the guide. Nance began clambering up the rocky trail to a point from which he would be able to talk to the boy. Arriving at this spot, Dad waited. At last Tad appeared, dragging himself along.
"Good boy! Fine boy! Dad's Canyon is proud of you, boy!"
Tad sank down, shaking his head, breathing hard, as the guide could see, even at that distance. After a time Tad recovered his wind sufficiently to be able to talk.
"What happened to you?" called Dad.
"I got a bump. I don't really know what did occur. The ropes are all washed away, Dad. I don't know how I'm going to help you up here now that I have got up. Aren't there any vines of which I could make a ladder?"
"Nary a vine that'll make a seventy-five-foot ladder."
"Then there is only one thing for me to do."
"What's that?"
"Hurry to the rim and get ropes."
"I reckon you'll have to do that, kid, if you think you're able. Are you much knocked out?"
"I'm all right. Tell them not to worry. I may be gone some time, butI shall be back."
"Good luck! I wish I could help you."
"I don't need help now. There is no further danger. Are my friends down there hungry?"
"Stacy Brown is thinking of nibbling rocks."
Tad laughed, then began climbing up the trail. Nance, watching him narrowly, saw that the boy was very weary, being scarcely able to drag himself along. After a time Tad passed out of sight up what was left of Bright Angel Trail. Nance, with a sigh, turned to begin retracing his steps down to the Pony Rider Boys' party.
"Well, he made it, didn't he?" cried Ned. "We have been watching him all the time."
"There's a real man," answered the guide, with an emphatic nod. "Pity there aren't more like him."
"There is one like him," spoke up Chunky.
"Who?"
"Little me," answered the fat boy, tapping his chest modestly.
"That's so; Chunky did jump into the raging flood," said Walter. "We mustn't forget that he acted the part of a brave man while we were standing there shivering and almost gasping for breath."
"Brave?" drawled Ned sarcastically.
"Ned Rector, you know you were scared stiff," retorted Walter.
"Well, I'll be honest with you, I was. Who wouldn't have been? Even the Professor's mustache changed color for the moment."
The afternoon passed. It was now growing dark, for the night came on early down there in the Canyon. On the tops of the peaks the lowering sun was lighting up the red sandstone, making it appear like a great flame on the polished walls.
"Isn't it time Tad were getting back?" asked the Professor anxiously.
"Well, it's a long, hard climb, you know. All of seven miles the way one has to go. That makes fourteen miles up and back, and they're real miles, as you know."
"I hope nothing has happened to the boy."
"Leave it to him. He knows how to take care of himself."
No one thought of lying down to sleep. In the first place, all were too hungry. Then, again, at any moment Tad might return. Midnight arrived. Suddenly Nance held up his hands for silence.
"Whoo-oo!"
It was a long-drawn, far-away call.
"That's Tad," said Nance. "We'd better gather up our belongings and get up to the break in the trail."
The guide answered the call by a similar "whoo-oo," after which all began climbing cautiously. In the darkness it was dangerous business, but a torch held in the hands of Jim Nance aided them materially. Far up on the side of the Canyon they could see three flickering points of light.
"It's the kid. He's got somebody with him. I thought he'd do that.He's a wise one," chuckled the guide.
The climb was made in safety. The party ar rived at the base at last, the boys shouting joyously as they saw Tad waving a torch at them. At least they supposed it was Tad.
"What do you think about waiting until daylight for the climb?" shoutedButler.
"I'll see what they say," answered Nance. "What about it, gentlemen?"
"I think it perhaps would be safer." This from the Professor.
"What, spend another night in this hole?" demanded Stacy. "No, sirree."
"Please let us go on up, Professor," begged Walter.
"Yes, we don't want to stay down here. We can climb at night as well as in daylight," urged Chunky.
"What have you got, ropes?" called Nance.
"I've brought down some rope ladders, which I have spliced——-"
"I hope you've done a better job on the splicing than you did on your own rope when you sailed across the horseshoe bend," shouted Stacy. "If you haven't, I refuse to trust my precious life to your old rope."
"Too bad about your precious life," laughed Ned. "Well, Professor, what do you say?"
"Is it safe, Nance?"
"As safe now as at any other time."
"All right."
"Let down your ladder," called the guide. "Be sure that it is well secured. How many have you with you?"
"Three men, if that is what you mean."
"Very good."
The rope ladder was let down. Those below were just able to reach it with their hands. It came within less than a foot of being too short.
"Who is going up first?" asked the guide.
"The Professor, of course," replied Chunky magnanimously.
"That is very thoughtful of you, Stacy," smiled Professor Zepplin.
"Yes, you are the heaviest. If the rope doesn't break with you, it's safe for the rest of us," answered Chunky, whereat there was a general laugh.
"Very good, young man. I will accommodate you," announced the Professor grimly, grasping the rope and pulling himself up with the assistance of Nance and the boys.
The rope swayed dizzily.
"Hold it there!" shouted the Professor.
Nance had already grasped the end of the ladder and was holding to it with his full weight. After a long time a shout from above told them that Professor Zepplin had arrived safely at the top. Walter went up next, then Chunky and Ned, followed finally by Jim Nance himself after their belongings had been hauled to the top.
Professor Zepplin embraced Tad immediately upon reaching the trail above. The boys joked Butler about being such a poor swimmer. About that time they discovered that Tad had a gash nearly four inches long on his head where he had come in contact with the sharp edge of a rock in the river. Tad had lost much blood and was still weak and pale from his terrific experiences. Nance wrung Tad Butler's hand until Tad winced.
"Ain't a man in the whole Grand who could have done what you did, youngster," declared Dad enthusiastically.
"The question is, did you fetch down anything to eat?" demanded Chunky.
"Yes, of course I did."
"Where is it? Lead me to it," shouted the fat boy.
"I left the stuff up at the Garden, where the mustangs are. We will go up there, the Professor and Mr. Nance approving."
The Professor and Mr. Nance most certainly did approve of the suggestion, for both were very hungry. The men who had come down with Tad led the way with their torches. It was a long, hard climb, the use of the ropes being found necessary here and there for convenience and to save time. Tad had had none of these conveniences when he went up. How he had made the trip so easily as he appeared to make it set the boys to wondering.
Baskets of food were found at the Garden. The party did full justice to the edibles, then, acting on the suggestion of Nance, they rolled up in their blankets and went to sleep. First, however, Professor Zepplin had examined the wound in Tad's head. He found it a scalp wound. The Professor washed and dressed the wound, after which Tad went to bed.
On the following morning they mounted their mustangs and started slowly for the rim, where they arrived some time after noon. The Pony Rider Boys instantly went into camp near the hotel, for it had been decided to take a full day's rest before starting out on the long trip. This time they were to take their pack train with them and cut off from civilization for the coming few weeks, they would live in the Canyon, foraging for what food they were unable to carry with them.
The guests at the hotel, after hearing of Tad Butler's bravery, tried to make a hero of the lad, but Tad would have none of it. He grew red in the face every time anyone suggested that he had done anything out of the ordinary. And deep down in his heart the lad did not believe that he had. Professor Zepplin, however, called a surgeon, who took five stitches in the scalp wound.
On the following morning camp was struck and the party started out for Bright Angel Gulch and Cataract Canyon, in both of which places some interesting as well as exciting experiences awaited them. Nance had brought three of his hunting dogs with him in case any game were started.
The boys were looking forward to shooting a lion, though, there being no snow on the ground, it would be difficult for the dogs to strike and follow a trail. How well they succeeded we shall see.
The man in charge of the pack train having deserted them before the travelers got back from the rim, Dad picked up a half breed whom the boys named Chow, because he was always chewing. If not food, Chow was forever munching on a leaf or a twig or a stick. His jaws were ever at work until the boys were working their own jaws out of pure sympathy.
The march was taken up to Bass Trail, which they reached about noon of the second day and started down. No unusual incident occurred during this journey. They found the trail in good condition, and though steep and precipitous in places, it gave the Pony Rider Boys no worry. After having experienced the perils of the other trail, this one seemed tame.
From Bass Trail they worked their way down and across into Bright Angel Gulch, where they made camp and awaited the arrival of Chow and the mules with their tents and provisions.
Chow arrived late the same day. Tents were pitched and settled. It was decided for the present to make this point their base of supplies. When on short journeys they would travel light, carrying such equipment as was absolutely necessary, and no more.
This gulch was far from the beaten track of the ordinary explorer, a vast but attractive gash in the plateau. In spots there was verdure, and, where the water courses reached in, stretches of grass with here and there patches of gramma grass, grease wood and creosote plants with a profusion of flowers, mostly red, in harmony with the prevailing color of the rocks that towered high above them. At this point the walls of the Canyon reached nearly seven thousand feet up into the air.
Down there on the levels the sun glared fiercely at midday, but along toward night refreshing breezes drifted through the Canyon, making the evenings cool and delightful. But there were drawbacks. There were snakes and insects in this almost tropical lower land. The boys were not greatly disturbed over these things. By this time they were pretty familiar with insects and reptiles, for it will be remembered that they had spent much time in the wilder places of their native country.
For the first twenty-four hours of their stay in "Camp Butler," as they had named their base in honor of Tad himself, they did little more than make short excursions out into the adjoining canyons. The Professor embraced the opportunity to indulge in some scientific researches into the geology of the Canyon, on which in the evening he was wont to dwell at length in language that none of the boys understood. But they listened patiently, for they were very fond of this grizzled old traveler who had now been their companion for so long.
The third night the dogs appeared restless. They lay at the end of their leashes growling and whipping their tails angrily.
"What is the matter with the dogs?" demanded Tad Butler.
"I think they must have fleas," decided Chunky wisely.
"No, it isn't fleas," said Dad, who had been observing them for the past few minutes. "It's my opinion that there's game hereabouts."
"Deer?" questioned Ned.
"No. More likely it's something that is after the deer."
"Lions?" asked Tad.
"I reckon."
"Have you seen any signs of them?"
"What you might call a sign," Nance nodded. "I found, up in Mystic Canyon this afternoon, all that was left of a deer. The lions had killed it and stripped all the best flesh from the deer. So it's plain enough that the cats are hanging around. I thought we'd come up with some of them down here."
"Wow for the king of beasts!" shouted Chunky, throwing up his sombrero.
"Nothing like a king," retorted Jim Nance. "The mountain lion isn't in any class with African lions. The lion hereabouts is only a part as big. A king—-this mountain lion of ours? You'd better call the beast a dirty savage, and be satisfied with that."
"But we're going to go after some of them, aren't we?" asked Ned.
"Surely," nodded Nance.
"When?" pressed Walter.
"Is it safe?" the more prudent Professor Zepplin wanted to know.
"Safe?" repeated Jim Nance. "Well, when it comes to that, nothing down in this country can be called exactly safe. All sorts of trouble can be had around here for the asking. But I reckon that these young gentlemen will know pretty well how to keep themselves reasonably safe—-all except Mr. Brown, who'll bear some watching."
Even long after they had turned in that night the boys kept on talking about the coming hunts of the next few days. They fairly dreamed lions. In the morning the hunt was the first thing they thought of as they ran to wash up for breakfast. In the near distance could be heard the baying of hounds, for Dad's dogs were no longer chained up.
"I let the dogs loose," Nance explained, noting the eager, questioning glances. "The dogs have got track of something. Hustle your breakfasts! We'll get away with speed."
Breakfast was disposed of in a hurry that morning. Then the boys hustled to get ready for the day's sport. When, a few minutes later, they set off on their ponies, with rifles thrust in saddle boots, revolvers bristling from their belts, ropes looped over the pommels of their saddles, the Pony Rider Boys presented quite a warlike appearance.
"If you were half as fierce as you look I'd run," declared Dad, with a grin.
"Which way do we go?" questioned the Professor.
"We'll all hike up into the Mystic Canyon. There we'll spread out, each man for himself. One of us can't help but fall to the trail of a beast if he is careful."
After reaching the Mystic they heard the dogs in a canyon some distance away. Ned and Walter were sent off to the left, Tad to the north, while the rest remained in the Mystic Canyon to wait there, where the chase should lead at some time during the day.
"Three shots are a signal to come in, or to come to the fellow who shoots," announced the guide. "Look out for yourselves."
Silence soon settled down over Mystic Canyon. Chunky was disappointed that he had not been assigned to go out with one of his companions, he found time hanging heavily on his hands with Nance and the Professor, but he uttered no complaint.
The Professor and guide had dismounted from their ponies and were seated on a rock busily engaged in conversation. Chunky, after glancing at them narrowly, shouldered his rifle and strolled off, leaving his pony tethered to a sapling.
He walked further than he had intended, making his way to a rise of ground about a quarter of a mile away, with the hope that he might catch a glimpse of some of his companions. Once on the rise, which was quite heavily wooded, he seemed to hear the hounds much more plainly than before. It seemed to Stacy that they were approaching from the other side, opposite to that which the rest were watching. He glanced down into the canyon, but could see neither of the two older men.
"Most exciting chase I've ever been in," muttered the fat boy in disgust, throwing himself down on the ground with rifle across his knees. "Lions! I don't believe there are any lions in the whole country. Dad's been having dreams. It's my private opinion that Dad's got an imagination that works over time once in a while. I think——-"
The words died on the fat boy's lips. His eyes grew wide, the pupils narrowed, the whites giving the appearance of small inverted saucers.
Stacy scarcely breathed.
There, slinking across an open space on the rise, its tail swishing its ears laid flat on its cruel, cat-like head, was a tawny, lithe creature.
Stacy Brown recognized the object at once. It was a mountain lion, a large one. It seemed to Chunky that he never had seen a beast as large in all his life. The lion was alternately listening to the baying of the hounds and peering about for a suitable tree in which to hide itself.
Stacy acted like a man in a trance. Without any clear idea as to what he was doing, he rose slowly to his feet. At that instant the lion discovered him. It crouched down, its eyes like sparks of fire, scintillating and snapping.
All at once Stacy threw his gun to his shoulder and pulled the trigger.At least he thought he did. But no report came.
A yellow flash, a swish and the beast had leaped clear of the rise and disappeared even more suddenly than he had come.
"Wha—-wha——-" gasped Chunky. Then he made a discovery.
Chunky was holding the rifle by the barrel with the muzzle against his shoulder, having aimed the butt at the crouching lion. Chunky had had a severe attack of "buck fever."
With a wild yell that woke the echoes and sent Jim Nance and Professor Zepplin tearing through the bushes, Stacy dashed down the steep slope, forgetting to take his rifle with him in his hurried descent.
He met the two men running toward him.
"What is it? What's happened?" shouted the Professor.
"I saw him! I saw him!" yelled Stacy, almost frantic with excitement.
Nance grabbed the boy by the shoulder, shaking him roughly.
"Speak up. What did you see?"
"I su—-su—-saw a lu—-lu—-lion, I di—-did."
"Where?" demanded Nance.
"Up there."
Chunky's eyes were full of excitement.
"Why didn't you shoot him?"
"I—-I tried to, but the gu—-gun wouldn't go off. I—-I had it wrong end to."
Dad relaxed his grip on the fat boy's arm and sat down heavily.
"Of all the tarnal idiots—-of all! Professor, if we don't tie that boy to a tree he'll be killing us all with his fool ways. Why, you baby, you ain't fit to carry a pop-gun. By the way, where is your gun?"
"I—-I guess, I lost it up—-up there," stammered Stacy.
Dad started for the top of the rise in long strides, Chunky gazing after him in a dazed sort of way.
"I—-I guess I did make a fool of myself, didn't I, Professor?" he mourned.
"I am inclined to think you did—-several different varieties of them," answered Professor Zepplin in a tone of disgust.