Too much stupefied to speak, even to move, the other two boys stood pale and trembling. There was no doubt in their minds that both Tad and Stacy had been killed.
"Do something! Do something!" shouted the Professor, recovering his voice in a sudden rush of words.
"I—I am afraid there is nothing we can do now," stammered Walter.
But Ned Rector had bounded to the edge and was gazing over half fearfully.
"There's Chunky! There he is!" he shouted.
"Where? Where?" cried the Professor, running up. "Where is he, I say?"
"Right down there, not more than ten feet below us. He has lodged between two rocks—no, I see now, he's caught on one."
Now that they looked closer, they observed that he was hanging head down, doubled over like a sack of meal, a sharp rock having caught in his left trousers pocket, thus stopping his downward flight.
It was not a very secure position at best.
"Are you hurt, Chunky?" called Walter.
"I—I don't know. I think I'm killed."
"Can you see Tad? Do you know what happened to him?" asked Ned, in an excited tone.
"No, I can't. I've got troubles of my own. Get me out of here quick.I can't hold on much longer."
"If the trousers only hold out, we'll save you," cried Walter. "Get a rope, Eagle-eye."
"Move! Move, idiot!" snorted the Professor. "What are you standing there for?"
Eagle-eye shrugged his shoulders, if anything more indifferently than before.
"No rope," he answered, as if it were a matter of no moment.
"I'll get a lariat. That surely ought to be long enough," saidWalter, darting away to the ponies.
"Come back. There's no lariats there. They're all in the pack down at the bottom of the canyon," shouted Ned.
"Then we're helpless," groaned the Professor.
"No, we're not. I'll find a way to get the boy out," announced Ned, in a voice of stern determination. There was no laughter in his face now. Purpose was written in every line of it.
"Come here, you lazy redskin, you," he commanded, which summonsEagle-eye obeyed reluctantly.
"What are you going to do?" demanded the Professor.
"Help!" came a wail from the unhappy Chunky.
"We're coming. Keep quiet. Don't you move," admonished Walter.
"I'll get a nosebleed if I have to hang here this way."
"You'll get worse than that if you don't get a grip on yourself and keep quiet. I'm going to form a human chain, the way we used to do to get pond lilies at home. Professor, lie down there, while I tie your feet to the tree. We will use you for an anchor."
In a trice the Professor's feet were made fast to the tree with the remaining piece of rope that had broken off short.
"Down on your stomach, Eagle-eye!" commanded the resourceful Ned, giving the redskin a jerk that sent him sprawling. "Take hold of his ankles and hang on, Professor. You next, Walter. Good. Now grab me by the ankles, while I go over head first."
But Ned's carefully laid plans failed. The human chain was not long enough to reach.
"Pull back, quick!" he ordered.
The return, however, was less easily executed, and perspiring, weak and trembling, Ned finally succeeded in scrambling to the cliff, with the aid of those behind him.
"What can we do now?" begged the Professor, greatly agitated.
"Try it another way, that's all. We've simply got to do it. Sit down and brace your feet against that boulder near the edge, there, Professor."
This Professor Zepplin did quickly. Walter dropped down in front of him, and next came the Shawnee and Ned Rector, each, save the Professor, sitting on his knees, facing the edge of the cliff.
"Now each one grab the ankles of the one ahead of him," directed Ned.
As they did so, the sitting men and boys, still doubled up, let themselves fall forward on their faces.
Slowly the line lengthened out like the unwinding of the coils of a serpent, Ned Rector slipping slowly over the brink, the red man squirming after him, until both were clear of the edge, hanging head down.
"I've got him," came up the muffled voice of Ned. "But I've got a rush of blood to the head. Pull now! Pull for all you're worth, all of you. If you slip we're all gone. Be careful."
His words of caution were not needed. Each realized the responsibility that rested upon his shoulders, and each was bending every nerve and muscle in his body to the task.
Eagle-eye himself was urged to renewed efforts by the certain knowledge that if he failed he would go to join the "evil spirits" in the rapid waters below.
"Wait a minute. I want to turn him around. He's a dead weight this way and I'm afraid we won't get him over," cautioned Ned.
After much effort he succeeded finally in turning Stacy around so that they could clasp hands.
"Now brace your feet, Chunky, and help all you can."
This Stacy did gladly enough.
"Don't drop me," he warned.
"If somebody doesn't let go you'll be all right," was the comforting answer.
Walter, being weaker than the others, was by this time well-nigh exhausted, but he held on with a determination that did him credit. At last they succeeded in pulling Ned and Chunky to the surface. Both boys were thoroughly exhausted by the time they were hauled up, and for a moment they lay breathing hard.
"Lucky my pants didn't rip, wasn't it?" grinned Chunky. "Did you see me fall in? But where's Tad?" he exclaimed, suddenly sitting up.
The Professor had already hurried to the edge as soon as he was able to get his breath, calling loudly into the depths.
There was no answer. Then the boys added their voices to his, but without result.
Tad could hear them call, but as yet he did not possess the strength to answer. When the rope parted he realized instantly that he was falling, and sought desperately to check his fall. He was powerless to do so. However, the rope did this for him to a certain extent, catching here and there in crevices in the rocks, jolting Tad almost into unconsciousness as he bounded up and down. Finally the springing rope bounced him clear of the last jagged points, dropping him neatly into the bushes.
Tad landed squarely on the pack that he had gone in search of, but the shock was so severe that for a time he lay stunned and motionless.
When finally he became conscious he heard his companions far above calling.
The lad tried and tried to answer them, to assure them that he was safe, but the roar of the stream beside him seemed to drown his weakened voice.
"I've got to make them hear. I simply must make them hear," he said to himself. "They will be beside themselves with worry, believing that I am killed."
Finding that he could not raise his voice sufficiently to carry to the top of the cliff, the lad struggled to his feet and began waving his handkerchief.
At first those above were so busy using their voices that they did not observe the tiny piece of cloth.
They had about given up hope of finding the boy alive, when Ned Rector, who had been anxiously peering into the gorge, suddenly raised himself to his knees.
"I see something moving," he shouted.
The others crowded around him as close to the edge as they dared.They were able to make nothing of what he saw.
"It's Tad! It's Tad! He's signaling us," cried Ned eagerly.
"Are you sure?" asked the Professor doubtfully.
"Come and see for yourself," answered Ned, grasping the Professor by the arm and rushing him to the edge.
"Be careful! Be careful! You'll have both of us over there, next thing you know."
"Judging from the experiences of our friends, it wouldn't do us much harm," laughed Ned. "There's Tad Butler down there. Goodness knows how far he fell, and Chunky got a bump that would have knocked the breath out of almost anyone. Hooray, T-a-d!" roared Ned in answer to his companion's signal. "Are you all right?"
The tiny piece of cloth waved more emphatically.
"What's the matter, can't you talk?"
The handkerchief fluttered more rapidly.
Ned interpreted this as meaning that the boy could not make himself heard.
"I am afraid he is hurt."
"Can't be very seriously or he would be unable to stand up and swing that rag," suggested Walter.
"Looks to me as if he were trying to climb up the rocks," announcedChunky.
As they gazed down intently they discovered Tad emerging from the bushes, slowly making his way upward.
"He never can make it," breathed the Professor, anxiously. "He will be killed if he tries it."
"Trust Tad. He knows what he is about. He won't try to climb up here," returned Ned.
"You'll see what he's up to in a minute."
The lad's object in scaling the steep wall as far as he could was to get away from the roar of the water that was hurling itself furiously through the gorge, so he could talk with his companions.
After ascending as far as the formation of the rocks would allow, Tad perched himself behind a point of limestone and swung his hand gayly to those above.
"You can't kill a Pony Rider," glowed Ned.
"Yes, judging from what we have been through, you young gentlemen seem to be immune to almost everything. Of course there is liable to be a first time. We don't want that to happen. But we have a serious difficulty on hand at the present moment. Call to Master Tad. See if he is all right."
Ned did so.
"I got a pretty fair shaking up," answered Tad, in a voice that they could catch only by the most careful attention.
"How far did you fall?" shouted Walter.
"I didn't have time to measure the distance," answered the voice from below.
The boys uttered a shout of laughter.
"Neither did Chunky."
"What happened to him?"
"He fell over in trying to catch the rope and save you."
"Good boy! Hurt him any?"
"No. It hurt us more in getting him out."
"Ask him if he found the provisions ruined?" suggested the Professor.
Tad informed them that nothing save some of the cooking utensils had been damaged.
All had been too securely packed and wrapped with canvas to insure them against exactly the kind of an accident that had happened.
"Think you can get the stuff up here?" asked Ned.
"I'd like to know how? The rope is all down here. I can't very well throw the things up to the top of the mountain," replied Tad.
"That's so. We had forgotten that," muttered the Professor. "And young gentlemen, will you tell me how Master Tad himself is going to get back? Don't you see my judgment was right when I said it was a dangerous undertaking?"
"It seems so," answered Ned ruefully. "But there must be some way to get the provisions out."
"Bother the provisions," interrupted the Professor, impatiently. "We've something more important than food to consider just now. Master Tad is down in the canyon and from the present outlook he is liable to remain there for some time. Any of you think of a plan that will help us? Here, Eagle-eye, perhaps you can tell us how to get that young gentlemen out of there."
The Indian shrugged his shoulders indifferently.
"Him stay. Spirits git um bymeby."
"You stop that kind of talk," commanded Ned.
"Tad is calling," interrupted Walter.
"What is it?" asked Ned.
"Get a rope and let down here."
"There is not ten feet of rope in the outfit."
"Send for help then. I've got to get out of here somehow."
"Tell him there is no help that we could depend upon, within twenty or thirty miles of here," said the Professor.
They were well along in the afternoon now and their predicament was apparently serious.
"There seems to be only one way out of the difficulty," said theProfessor, after a little thought.
"What's that, Professor?" asked Walter.
"We must send for help, distant as it is."
"If you will pardon my differing with you, Professor, we have help in plenty right here and a lazy Indian thrown in for good measure," said Chunky.
The boys laughed and nodded their heads in approval.
"What we need is a rope, not more help. Don't you think so?"
"Yes, yes. I should have put it that way myself only—"
"Why not send the Indian for a rope?" suggested Chunky. "I would go myself if I knew the way."
"No, you'd fall in somewhere," chuckled Ned.
"And the Indian probably would forget to come back," added Walter."Altogether we are in a fix."
"I think Master Stacy's suggestion is the most practicable of all," decided the Professor.
"Yes, but where could you send Eagle-eye?" asked Ned. "It would take two days for him to ride to Springfield, and that much more time to return. Tad would starve to death before that, wouldn't he?"
"Not hardly. Altogether, the situation has some humor in it. Master Tad is down there with plenty of food, but he cannot get up here. On the other hand we are up here safe, but without food and cannot get down to him."
"If Tad couldn't get out, he'd be even better off than we then," laughed Walter.
"We would all be all right in that event, my boy. Come here,Eagle-eye."
The Indian obeyed the command lazily.
"We want you to take one of the ponies and ride back to your friend's place as fast as you can. Get a rope, one long enough to reach down into the gully. Don't spare the pony. Get back as quickly as possible."
"Him no got rope."
"How do you know? You go just the same and you go in a hurry. Don't you dare to show your face back here unless you bring a rope, sir. If you get back before dark, I shall make you a present of this rifle that you have admired so much—"
"I beg your pardon, that's my gun you are trying to give away," objected Stacy.
"Never mind, you shall have another. Don't you think it's worth that much to get Master Tad out of his difficulty quickly?"
"Of course it is. I didn't mean it just that way. Sure, give the lazy Indian my gun, give him anything I have, only do something to make him hurry."
The Indian's eyes sparkled with anticipation. "You give Indian gun?" he asked. "Yes. Me ride um pony like fire from sky."
"Well, get off now," said the Professor. "We'll take for granted that you'll do your best. But get back before dark."
The red man was off with a bound, and releasing one of the ponies leaped into the saddle, plunging over the rough, rocky trail at a pace that threatened destruction to pony and rider.
"They'll break their necks. But he certainly is making time," grinnedWalter.
"Hope he doesn't break any necks until he returns with a rope. I don't care how soon after that he—"
"That's not a kind thing to say, even of an Indian," corrected theProfessor.
"Then I won't say it. I'll just think it," laughed Ned.
"We have sent for a rope, Tad," called Walter. "You must have patience, for it may be several hours before he gets back."
"Whom did you send?"
"The noble red man," interjected Ned, with a laugh.
"Then, it is more likely to be a week before he returns," sighed the lad.
They could almost hear Tad groan. However, there was nothing they could do, and after talking back and forth for a time, the boys settled down to rest, rather worn out from the excitement of the last few hours.
Chunky, though, seemed drawn to the edge of the cliff as if by some invisible force. He simply could not keep away from it.
Twice Ned Rector had hauled him back.
"Fall over if you wish to, Chunky. I can't be bothered to watch you all the time," said Ned finally.
"I won't fall over. Once is enough," replied Stacy, then they left him to himself.
The boy, observing that his friends were not looking, began to toss tiny pebbles over. He was chuckling with glee. First he would throw one, peer over to watch the effect, then dodge back. Stacy Brown's sense of humor seemed impossible to satisfy.
At first Tad paid little attention, believing that what he heard dropping about him was particles dislodged from the rocks overhead.
But when finally, a bit of limestone the size of a chestnut hit the lad fairly on the top of his head and bounded off, he sprang up from where he had been sitting, with an exclamation of impatience.
Moving slightly to one side, Tad peered cautiously upward. He was gratified a moment later by a sight of Stacy Brown's red face peeking over at him.
"Hi, yi, yi, yi!" exploded Tad Butler.
Just at this time Professor Zepplin happened to cast his eyes over toward Stacy and, seeing that something unusual was going on, went quickly but silently over to the boy.
"What's the trouble? Anything the matter?" called the Professor.
"There will be if you don't tie Chunky to a tree or something," calledTad.
"We haven't any rope to tie him with, but we'll attend to the young man," answered the Professor. "See here, boy, what have you been up to?"
"I—I was tossing pebbles over at him," answered Stacy whimsically.
"That will do, young man," warned the Professor. "I shall have to take you in hand if I hear any more such complaints. Do you know that you might have seriously injured Master Tad? Anything thrown from such a height strikes with considerable force."
Stacy hung his head, and thrusting his hands in his pockets walked away, after which there was peace in the camp of the Pony Riders for some time.
"Every time I try to have a little fun I get into trouble," muttered the boy. "I'll show them some of these days that Stacy Brown isn't the tenderfoot they seem to think he is. I'll do something yet."
He had already done so when he threw himself on the rope with the hope of saving his companion from a terrible fall. But, as usual, his effort had resulted in his own undoing.
"Got anything to eat?" he asked, approaching the group.
"You deserve to go hungry," retorted Ned.
"Looks as though he would, whether he deserves it or not," addedWalter.
"Young men, there are some canned beans in my saddle bag. I carried them along in case we should become separated from our pack train," observed the Professor.
"Hooray!" laughed Ned, tossing his hat in the air. "I guess we won't starve this evening. Let's cook them?"
"What shall we cook them in?" asked Walter.
"That's so. I'd forgotten that. Our cooking outfit is at the bottom of the gorge."
"I think you will find something on one of the two remaining mules—something that will answer the purpose," suggested the Professor. "But first, I would suggest that you unpack your tents and pitch them. It is plain that we shall have to remain here all night."
"Why not throw Tad's tent down to him if we don't succeed in getting him up?" asked Chunky.
"Don't you think we've got enough to do with getting him and the provisions up, without throwing down the rest of our stuff?" sniffed Ned. "You must think we have an easy job ahead of us. Well, if you think that you're wrong; we haven't."
They got to work at once, unloading their tents. The canvas was soon spread out on the ground, ropes laid in place and folding cots placed where they belonged. The next task was to cut some tent poles, which was quickly accomplished. Shortly afterwards, the little tents sprang up, and the boys busied themselves with making them inhabitable.
While they were doing this, Professor Zepplin had busied himself with gathering firewood. He had trouble in finding enough dry stuff to answer their purpose. Walter remembered having seen some in a gully a short distance away.
"I know where it is. I'll go fetch it as soon as we have finished here," he said.
"Very well, Walter. I have enough here to start the supper with."
Having done all that was necessary to the tent for the time being, Walter Perkins ran off to get the wood for the night fire, while Ned, having found a spider, prepared to cook the supper.
Out of the packs he had drawn a small package that looked good to him.He opened it and uttered a shout.
"Will we starve to-night? I guess not," he laughed, waving the contents of the package above his head.
"What have you found?" asked the Professor.
"Bacon. Enough for all of us and perhaps some to spare."
"Then, we are not so badly off after all, Master Ned. How about the coffee?"
"Coffee went down the hill."
"The tea also?"
"Yes. The whole business. Neither have we any butter or lard. We shall have to cook the beans in themselves and eat them without seasoning."
"Cook the bacon with them. That will furnish the salt," suggestedStacy.
"Large head," laughed Ned. "I'll do it. Go fetch me some water."
Stacy hurried away whistling, and in a few minutes returned with his sombrero filled with clear, cool mountain water.
"Here, here! What do you mean? Think we want to drink out of that old hat?" jeered Ned. "Get a pail; what ails you?"
"Nothing ails me. It's the pail you want to find fault with—not with me."
"What do you mean?"
"The pail's down at the bottom of the mountain with Tad," grinnedStacy.
"That's one on me," laughed Ned. "Very well, go wash the hat thoroughly. I suppose we shall have to use it for a water pail. A good scrubbing won't do it any harm, at that."
"I did wash it," replied Stacy. "Think I'd bring you water in it without doing so?"
"All right, put it down," said Ned, turning away.
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"If I put the hat down the water will all run out over the top."
"Then stand there and hold it till we get through supper," growled Ned, turning to the fire where the bacon was frying in the pan of beans.
Stacy eyed him questioningly for a few seconds, and then with an exclamation poured the water on the ground, jamming the wet, dripping sombrero down over his head.
"You go get your own water. I'm not the cook, anyhow," he said, thrusting both hands into his trousers pockets and strolling over to the other side of the fire, where he watched the supper preparations out of the corners of his eyes.
"Serve you right if we didn't give you any supper," commented Ned.
"I'll set the table if you will agree not to find fault with the way I do it," offered the boy.
"Go ahead. I'll promise."
Stacy flirted the table cloth in the air, and after walking around several times, succeeded in smoothing it out. He could find only two spoons in their kit, and no knives and forks.
The boy pondered deeply for a moment, then hurried off into the brush, returning shortly, stuffing something in his inside coat pocket.
"Grub pi-i-i-lee!" announced the cook.
"Hey, Tad, supper's ready," shouted Ned, peering over the cliff.
"All right," came back the answer. "I'm eating mine now. I've got corned beef and—"
"And what? It must be something pretty good."
"It is. What would you say to canned peaches?"
"Canned peaches! Now, fellows, what do you think of that? I didn't know there were any in the pack," mourned Ned.
"And you the cook! I don't think you're much of a cook after all. It's lucky for us you didn't know it, I guess," said Stacy, with a grimace.
"Lucky for Tad, you mean. Precious little of those canned peaches we'll ever see. Come, fall to. You'll make me late with my dishes," urged Ned.
They were hungry enough, and the spiderful of beans and bacon looked good to them.
"What, do we have to eat with a spoon—a large spoon, at that?"
"You do, unless you prefer to use your fingers, Professor. We are not allowed by you to do that, but I presume you can if you want to. Chunky doesn't need any. We will divide the two spoons between the three of us," said Ned, with a twinkle in Stacy's direction.
But his levity did not disturb the fat boy in the least. After having had his plate heaped with beans and bacon, Stacy calmly took from his pocket two sharp sticks that he had cut and trimmed just before supper. On one of these he speared a piece of bacon, stringing several beans on the other, and carrying both mouthward at the same time.
The boys burst out laughing.
"Well, will you look at the chopsticks!" exclaimed Ned. "I always thought he'd make a good Chinaman."
"Master Stacy is at least resourceful," answered the Professor, a broad grin on his face. "I think I shall cut me some sticks just like those."
The boy stripped the beans from one into his mouth and extended the stick to Professor Zepplin.
"No, thank you," laughed the scientist. "I think I prefer to get my own."
Chunky solemnly chased a truant bean about his plate, finally spearing and conveying it to his already well-filled mouth.
After all, the supper proved a very jolly meal, now that they were sure Tad was all right. Then, again, the beans and bacon were pronounced excellent by each of them, and Stacy had made fully as good time with his crude chopsticks as had the others with the tablespoons.
Supper finished, all hands turned in to help wash the dishes, and in a few moments the camp was again in perfect order.
Tad was informed of Stacy's skill with chopsticks, and they could hear him laughing over it, even though they were no longer able to see him.
"Are you warm enough down there?" called Ned.
"Sure thing. I have most of the blankets."
"That means we freeze, I guess," interjected Stacy.
"You can go cut yourself a few chopsticks and sleep under them," retorted Ned Rector. "Hey, Tad, why don't you build a fire down there?"
"Haven't any matches."
"Never mind, Tad, the moon soon will be up and you can get warm by that," shouted the fat boy.
"Chunky has suddenly developed into a wit, Tad. I don't know what's happened to the boy. It must have been that fall over the cliff that shook his thinking machinery into place."
"Pity some other folks not more'n a million miles away wouldn't fall over," muttered Stacy.
"What's that you say?" demanded Ned, turning on him.
"I—I was just thinking to myself," explained Chunky, edging away.
Ned was glaring at him ferociously, at the same time struggling to keep back the laughter that rose to his lips because of Stacy's sharp retort.
"I'll make a suggestion, young gentlemen," said the Professor.
"Yes, sir, what is it?" asked the boys in chorus.
"Pile up all the dry wood that Walter has gathered. Pile it right up on the edge of the cliff and light it. I think that will make the evening more cheerful for Master Tad down there."
"That will be fine," cried Walter.
Quickly carrying the dried wood to the place indicated, they piled it so that it would make a long fire, then lighted it from three sides at the same time.
The result was a bright blaze that flared high, lighting the rocks far down into the canyon, but not sufficiently far to reach Tad.
"Trying to burn up the mountain?" shouted Tad.
"No; we're trying to burn it down, so we can pick you up," called NedRector.
"Oh," came up from the depths.
"It seems to me that you young men are getting rather sharp with each other," said the Professor, shaking his head.
"I guess it must be the Ozark air getting into our lungs," answered Ned. "I've felt like having a wrestling bout with some one ever since we got into these mountains."
"Wait till Tad comes up. I think he will accommodate you," suggestedChunky wisely.
"You mustn't mind our talk, Professor," explained Walter. "We say things to each other, but it's all in fun. We don't mean to be mean. Do we, Ned?"
"Of course not. Chunky is the only one who—"
"Never mind Chunky. He'll take care of himself," answered the fat boy sharply.
"Isn't it about time that lazy Indian were back, Professor?" askedWalter.
"Yes, that's so. I hadn't thought of that, Walter. He has been gone all of five hours now, and the trip should not have taken him more than three all told."
"Suppose he had to stop to smoke a pipe of peace with his friend," suggested Ned. "Then there would be a certain amount of grunting to do before Eagle-eye could state his business, and after that much talk, talk. That's the Indian of it."
"You seem to know a lot about Indians. Were you ever an Indian?" asked Stacy innocently.
"Even if I were, I couldn't be called a savage," retorted Ned.
The hours wore on, and the moon came up in a cloudless sky, much to the relief of the boy down in the canyon. Just before dark he had observed that there was quite a strip of rock and sand on his side of the rushing mountain torrent. It extended further than he could see and the lad wondered where it might lead to.
After a time he cuddled up, but could not sleep. Perhaps it was the loneliness of his position. Yet he had been alone in mountain and forest many times before.
"Hello, up there!" he shouted, pulling himself to a sitting position.
"Hello!" answered Walter.
"I'm going to bed. Don't worry about me. I suppose the Indian has not returned?"
"No such luck," answered Ned, who had come up beside Walter and replied to Tad's question.
"And he won't be back till morning," sang the boy down there in the shadows.
"Right you are," laughed Ned. "If he gets back then we are in great luck. I'll let the rope down to you if he should happen to return during the night."
"No; wait till morning. I wouldn't care to try to climb up in the dark. I'd be likely to get hurt if I did. You had better all turn in now. There will be no need for you to sit up."
"All right," answered Ned and Walter at once.
"I think perhaps Master Tad is right. We had better go to bed. I would suggest, however, that one of you roll up in his blankets outside here, so that he can hear if Master Tad calls," suggested Professor Zepplin.
"That's a good idea. I'll do that, with your permission, Professor," offered Ned Rector promptly.
"Yes. Then Walter and Stacy had better go to their tents. If anything occurs during the night, remember you are to let me know at once. If Eagle-eye returns, I want to know it, too."
"Very well, sir," answered Ned.
After replenishing the fire, determined to remain awake until daylight, the lad rolled up in his blankets.
In a few minutes after the camp quieted down he fell sound asleep; and he did not open his eyes again until the sun peeped over the eastern range of the mountains and burned apart his eyelids.
Ned awoke with a start. He could scarcely believe that another day had dawned.
He sat up, rubbing his eyes and blinking in the strong morning light.
"Whew! I'm stiff in every joint," he mumbled. "And sleepier thanStacy Brown ever thought of being."
Ned pulled himself to his feet, yawning broadly.
"That's another bad habit I have learned from Chunky. I wonder ifTad's awake."
Peering over the edge, Ned was unable to make out whether his companion down there were awake or sleeping. He hesitated to call, knowing that if Tad Butler were still asleep at that hour of the day it was because he was tired out and needed rest badly.
Ned strode over to Stacy's tent.
"Wake up," he commanded, pinching one of the fat boy's big-toes.
"Get out," mumbled Stacy sleepily, at the same time kicking viciously with the disturbed foot.
Thus encouraged, Ned pulled the other big-toe.
Chunky rose in his wrath, hurling the rubber pillow on which he had been sleeping full into the face of his tormentor.
Ned, caught off his balance, tumbled over in a heap, while Stacy crawled back under the blankets, very well satisfied with the result of his throw.
But he was left in peace only a moment. Ned recovered himself and returned to the charge. Over went the cot, with Stacy beneath it. From the confusion of blankets emerged the red face of the fat boy.
Ned Rector thought it time to leave. He did so, with Stacy a close second and the rubber pillow brushing Ned's cheek in transit.
There was no more sleep in the camp. Ned and Stacy's foot race continued until both were out of breath and thoroughly awake. Then they sat down, laughing, the color flaming in their cheeks and eyes sparkling with pleasurable excitement.
"I'll wake up Tad, I guess," announced Ned after recovering his breath.
Going to edge of the cliff, he shouted loudly. But there was no answer to his summons. Then both boys added their voices to the effort, joined a few minutes later by the Professor and Walter Perkins.
They were unable to get any reply at all; nor was there the slightest movement or sign of life where Tad had last been seen.
"What can it mean?" they asked each other, all the laughter gone out of their faces now.
"It means," said Ned, "that Tad isn't there. Beyond that, I would not venture an opinion."
"Maybe he's fallen into the stream during the night and drowned," suggested Chunky.
"We shall not even consider that as possible, nor do I believe it is," replied the Professor. Nevertheless, he was deeply concerned over the mysterious disappearance of the lad.
"If the Indian ever gets here with a rope, I'll go down there and see if I can find out anything," said Ned.
"Not until all other means have been exhausted," declared the Professor. "We appear to have lost one boy, and I do not intend that we shall lose another."
"I wouldn't worry," comforted Walter Perkins. "You all know Tad, and you know he isn't a boy that you can lose so easily. I'll bet my share in the next meal that he's back here before dark this afternoon."
This confidence brightened the others visibly.
"That's right," agreed Ned. "You can't down Tad. I guess I'll go water my pony and give him some fresh trees to eat up while some of you are starting the fire. We had better eat, anyway."
"What is there to eat?" asked the Professor.
"Beans, that's all, and not much of that. Unless we get the stuff down there, we won't have another meal to-day."
The other two boys began preparing for the camp-fire. Ned had been gone only a few moments when he returned on a run.
"Boys! Boys!" he cried.
"What is it? What is it?" they exclaimed in sudden alarm.
"The ponies! The ponies!"
"What about them?" asked Walter, pausing as he was about to strike a match to the wood.
"Yes, what of them, Master Ned? Has anything happened to them?" asked the Professor, striding toward the excited Ned Rector.
"Happened? I should say there had—"
"Well, what is it? Don't keep us waiting in suspense all—"
"They're gone!"
"Gone?" exclaimed the two boys in chorus.
"It can't be possible."
"Two of them are. They have broken away, I think. It must have happened late last night, for I looked at them just before going to bed, and they were all asleep then."
"Whi—which ponies—which ones are gone?" asked Walter apprehensively.
"Chunky's and Tad's."
"Is it possible?" sputtered the Professor, striding to the place where their stock had been tethered.
"Yes, they've broken away," he decided, observing that a piece of stake rope belonging to each had been broken short off. "Look around, boys. They cannot be far away. Probably got hungry and concluded to look for some tender bushes to browse on."
The boys, thus encouraged, hastened to begin their search for the missing stock.
"They went this way," shouted Ned.
All hands hurried to him.
"Yes, there's their tracks," agreed the Professor. "Now follow them, but look out that you do not get lost."
Instead, a few moments afterward, they lost the trail. It disappeared from before them as utterly as if the ponies had walked on air from that point on. No amount of searching brought it to view again, and after more than an hour of persistent effort, the Professor called the hunt off, and the crestfallen party returned to camp.
"What are we going to do?" asked Stacy dolefully.
"I know what you are going to do," returned Ned.
"What?"
"You're going to ride a mule from this point on."
It was not a cheerful breakfast to which the lads sat down. It seemed as if nothing but trouble had overtaken them ever since they had been in the Ozark Mountains.
They had just finished when the Indian rode in on Ned's mount, which he had chosen for his journey.
This was something at least to detract their attention from their troubles.
"Hey, you haven't got back, have you?" taunted Ned, noting the flecks of foam on his pony with disapproving eyes.
"Me back," grinned the Indian.
"I see you are," replied the Professor dryly. "Where's the rope?"
"Yes; we don't care so much about seeing you, but we want that rope," added Ned emphatically.
"No got um."
"Do you mean to say you have been gone nearly twenty-four hours and have not found a rope?" demanded Professor Zepplin.
"No rope," persisted the guide sullenly.
"Why not?" demanded Ned, steadying himself, for he was more wrought up than he wished to admit, even to himself.
The Shawnee shrugged his shoulders.
"Where's that rope?" snapped Chunky, with sudden new-found courage, facing the guide at close quarters.
"No get um! No get um!" insisted the Indian, gesticulating extravagantly.
"Yes, but why not, why not?" urged the Professor.
"No find."
"You mean you could not find one?"
"He doesn't know what he means," sneered Ned. "He's had too much pipe of peace."
"Go take care of that pony," commanded the Professor sternly. "Rub him down well. After you have done so, return and get your breakfast. There's not much for you."
"He'll have to wash his own dishes," announced Ned. "No washing dishes for a lazy Indian. No, not for me."
"Yes, he will have to do that," agreed the Professor. "Come back here, Eagle-eye."
The boys did not know at the moment what the Professor had in mind.
"Two of our ponies got away last night, Eagle-eye."
The Indian nodded, but without exhibiting any surprise.
"Did you know it?"
"Me know."
"How?" demanded the Professor, with unfeigned surprise.
"Me see um tracks. Me see um ropes there."
"Well, you have got some sense after all,"' retorted the Professor."How do you suppose they got away?"
"No get away."
"What's that? What do you mean?" asked Ned sharply.
"No get away."
"I guess the pipe of peace has gone to his head," declared Ned disgustedly. "Now you say they didn't get away. If not, they must be over there now. How do you explain that?"
"No there."
"Of course they're not. Then they got away."
"No get away. Steal um," announced the Indian calmly.
His announcement was like an electric shock to them.
"Stolen? Stolen? Is that what you mean?" shouted Professor Zepplin.
"Yes."
"Oh, preposterous! Stolen? And with all of us sleeping within a rod or so of them? Impossible."
"Eagle-eye say stole," insisted the guide.
"How do you know?"
"See um tracks, then not see um tracks."
"Well, what do you infer from that—what does that mean?"
The Indian went through a series of pantomimic gestures to indicate that the feet of the missing ponies had been bound with cloths so that their hoofs would leave no imprint.
"Come Eagle-eye," he commanded, striding off toward the bedding-down place.
They followed and gathered around him as he picked up the ends of the tether ropes.
"Break um? No, cut um."
"You mean the ropes have been cut?"
"Uh-huh," he grunted in gutteral tones.
There was silence for a moment.
"He isn't such a wooden Indian as he'd have us believe after all," grinned Ned.
"Can't you trail them?" asked Stacy.
The Shawnee shook his head.
"Why not?"
"No leave trail. Smart man."
"Yes, there is no doubt of that," agreed the Professor. "Have you any idea who did this thing, Eagle-eye?"
The Shawnee shrugged his shoulders as indicating that he did not know.
"Probably it was the same fellow whom you found fooling about the camp the other night," suggested Walter.
"Just what I was thinking," added Ned.
"Yes, no doubt he is the man. But what we are going to do, I don't know. It occurs to me that I might send some one on to Mr. Munson, superintendent of the Red Star Mine, to whom I have a letter, asking him to send us on a couple of extra ponies."
"Does he know who we are?" asked Walter Perkins.
"Yes, he knows your father. Mr. Munson is expecting us, and is to entertain us when we reach the place."
"How far are we from there now?" inquired Ned.
"How far, Eagle-eye?"
"Two suns."
"Two days, eh. We could make it while Eagle-eye was going there and back. I move that we wait until to-morrow. Perhaps we may find Tad some time to-day. I believe he will return, as I said before. If he does, we can start right on. Some of us will have to walk, but that doesn't matter. We are pretty well used to doing that, I guess."
"Master Ned, your suggestion is a good one. We shall adopt it. I presume the other animals are safe. The thieves certainly will not have the assurance to come back again."
"No come more," affirmed the guide.
"After you have finished your breakfast I want you to start in and look for Master Butler. You'll have to find a way to get down there, even if you have to wade in the stream—"
"Spirits git um boy."
"We will leave that out of the question. You find him, that's all."
"He won't go down there," said Ned. "He may say he will, but he won't."
"I'll see that he does," replied the Professor, with a firm closing of the lips. "I have trifled long enough. Now we shall do something. I—"
"Well, what's all the excitement about?" demanded a cheery voice behind them.
"Tad! It's Tad!" shouted the boys in chorus.
With yells of delight they pounced upon him and for a moment there was a regular football scrimmage, with Tad Butler at the bottom of the heap, the others mauling him about with shouts of glee.
It was the Pony Rider Boys' way of showing their delight at the return of their companion. But Tad did not mind it at all. Throwing them off with a prodigious effort he scrambled to his feet, dust-covered, hatless and with hair in a sad state of disorder.
Professor Zepplin had thrust the other boys aside and was grippingTad's hands.
"It's the last time you ever get me to consent to your taking such a chance," he said. "How did you get out? You certainly did not climb up the side of the mountain."
"Oh, no," laughed Tad. "I knew there must be some way out, for I found a moccasin track down there in the sand before I turned in last night."
"You must have pretty good eyes to find a moccasin track in the dark," laughed Ned.
"I did not say it was dark. I made the discovery before that."
"Tell us about it," urged Walter.
"You didn't find any of Eagle-eye's evil spirits down there, did you?" asked Ned.
"No. I wish I had. I should have been glad of company of any kind."
"We want to hear how you got out," spoke up Chunky. "I—I came pretty near falling in after you, too."
"Yes, I know. Well, to begin with, before I found the moccasin track I noticed that there was room to walk along by the side of the stream. When the moon came up, not being able to sleep, for some reason—I guess it was on account of the water that made such a racket, I thought I'd look around a bit. After I got started I kept on going and going, and the further I went the less steep did the banks appeared—"
"How far did you go?" interrupted the Professor.
"I haven't the slightest idea."
"I presume you found no great change in the topographic features of—"
Tad laughed good-naturedly.
"I was trying to get out, Professor. Finally, I found a place that looked good and after I had scrambled up some fifteen feet I discovered that I had struck a trail. It had been in use not long since. What for I cannot imagine. The rest was very easy. I reached the top of the cliff just after daylight."
"How—how did you find your way back?" wondered Stacy.
"I followed along the ridge. After a while I saw the smoke from your camp-fire, then I hurried in and here I am."
"You always were a lucky fellow," laughed Ned. "Now if that had been myself I should have been down there yet, or else in the river or whatever you call that stream down there."
"Got anything to eat?" asked Tad. "My appetite this morning is a thing to be feared."
"Depends upon how much the guide has eaten," replied Walter. "I guess you will have to lick the frying pan."
"Yes, that's all he'll get," added Ned. "Any fellow who has filled up on canned peaches and the like doesn't need any more than that."
"Professor," continued Tad, "I would suggest that we pack up and move along down until we come to the trail. We can all then work into the gorge leaving the ponies on top. It will be an easy matter for us to pack the stuff to the top. We'll be in good shape then. Shall we do it?"
"Yes, yes," answered the Professor absently.
"Come on then, fellows. I'll tighten my belt and save my appetite until we get something like real food to eat. Licking a frying pan won't satisfy my longings this morning. I'll pack the ponies while you are striking the tents. I—"
Tad turned, gazing at them curiously. They were strangely silent.The lad felt instinctively that something had gone wrong, for TadButler was quick to catch a suggestion.
"Well, what is it all about? You are as solemn as a lot of owls at sunrise. Anything happened?"
Walter nodded.
"It's about the ponies, Master Tad," the Professor informed him.
"The ponies? Which ponies? Are they hurt?" exclaimed the lad sharply.
"We don't know," answered Professor Zepplin.
"Then what is the matter? Don't keep me in suspense."
"Gone," growled Ned dismally.
"Where?"
"I'm sure I don't know. The redskin says they have been stolen—your pony and Chunky's. The trail has been masked so we cannot follow them."
Without a word, Tad Butler hastened to the spot where the animals had been tethered when he went over the cliff. Silently he made a careful inspection of the place.
"Well, what do you think of it?" asked Ned.
"I think I'll walk," answered Tad, thrusting both hands in his trousers pockets. "But I'm going to get my pony back before ever I leave these mountains," he announced quietly.
Tad was unusually silent while they were packing ready to break camp, but as they got out on the trail he became more talkative. He did not refer to the ponies again on the way, though the lad's mind was working rapidly.
"Do you think we shall be able to hire some ponies of Mr. Munson?" he asked when they had been an hour on their journey.
"I have no doubt of it," answered the Professor. "Perhaps it would be better to buy a couple."
"I don't want to do that just yet. There's the place where we are to leave the trail," he added, pointing to what appeared to be a broad gash in the rocks ahead of them. "We shall have to leave the ponies, what few we have left. I don't suppose the thieves will come back for the rest of them, do you?"
"Hardly," answered the Professor.
Securing their mounts as well as the two pack mules, they started down the mountain side with Tad Butler in the lead. On down the long, sloping trail they trudged until at last they reached the point where they were obliged to get down on all fours to clamber the last fifteen feet of precipitous rocks.
Eagle-eye halted, standing rigid, gazing off across the gorge.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" demanded the Professor. "Come along. We shall need you."
"Me stay."
Professor Zepplin was angry. He was for trying to force the Indian to accompany them.
"I would suggest that you let him remain where he is," said Tad. "We shall need some one here to haul up the packs when we get them at the bottom there. I'll leave my rope for him."
"Very well, just as you say. I hate to see even an Indian make such an exhibition of himself," answered the Professor witheringly. "I never supposed there were such cowards among the red men."
Tad handed his rope to Eagle-eye, at the same time telling the fellow what he was to do. The party then scrambled down the rocks, soon finding themselves on more secure footing by the side of the roaring stream.
The mountain torrent was more of a reality to the boys now than had been the case when they were gazing down upon it from the top of the cliff.
"My, I'd hate to fall in there!" decided Stacy, edging away from the flying spray that floated like a thin cloud along the edge of the bank, masking the torrent like a white veil.
"Wonderful! wonderful!" exclaimed the Professor, raising both hands above his head, glancing first up then down the imposing mountain gash. He was deeply impressed by the spectacle.
"Young gentlemen," he said, turning to them, impressively, "it would be well for you to give serious thought to the remarkable region in which you now find yourselves."
"Yes, sir," agreed Tad.
"We are not liable to forget it, Professor," added Ned.
"The Ozark region is unusual in having within such limited areas so wide a range of geological formation."
Professor Zepplin in his enthusiasm was waxing eloquent, and the lads were giving respectful attention.
"Perhaps you are unaware," continued the scientist, "that in both the eastern and western portions of this range, a section running transversely to its main axis presents a complete succession from the oldest Archaean to the newest quaternary."
The Professor fixed Stacy with a stern eye.
"Do you follow me, young gentleman?"
"Ye—yes, sir," stammered Chunky weakly, shrinking back against the rocks.
"And from perfectly massive rocks to the most perfectly stratified sediments there are represented a considerable variety of masses belonging to different ages—a very complete section of the Palaeozoic and a rather full sequence of the latter deposits which recline against the older strata."
"Yes, sir," agreed Ned meekly.
"A-h-e-m. And now having thus enlightened you, we will proceed with our quest for something to eat. I trust my explanation has been perfectly clear to you all?" queried the scientist, with the suspicion of a twinkle in his eyes.
"With all due respect to you, sir, I must confess that I didn't understand a word of it," answered Tad boldly.
"I hadn't the slightest idea that you did," retorted the Professor, with a hearty laugh. "Our friend, Master Stacy, appears to be the only one of you who grasped the scientific truths."
The boys shouted with laughter.
Ned Rector proposed three cheers for Professor Zepplin, which were given with a will.
Stacy, rather crestfallen, joined in the cheering, weakly, however.
"It is well to give thought now and then to more serious matters, boys. After we are out of our present difficulty I will put what I have just told you into more simple language—language that you will all understand. This is the most unusual country we have been in yet, and I want you to leave it with a pretty clear idea of the lessons it teaches. How far is it to where our provisions were dumped?"
"It will take us an hour to get there, I should say," replied Tad."We had better be on our way."
Tad tied his red handkerchief to a bush, so they might not miss the trail upon their return, after which the party started out on its long tramp.
"If we were nearer to food, I should not take the time to rescue the supplies. At the present rate, it may be days before we reach a settlement."
"Especially if we lose any more live stock," said Tad.
Lost in admiration, the lads worked their way along the bank, gazing first at the swirling waters, whose spray here and there gave off the colors of the rainbow in the morning sun, then up at the towering white limestone cliffs above them.
"There's the place," announced Tad finally.
"Where?" queried the Professor.
"Just below where you see that projection of rock that looks like an Indian's nose. That's the rock that I tumbled down after the rope broke with me. I am black and blue yet. Don't think there's a spot on the rock that I didn't hit on my way down. My, I got a bump!"
"Are the things damaged?" asked Ned solicitously.
"No, nothing to speak of. I guess I did the most damage when I helped myself last night," laughed Tad.
Tad, after finishing his meal, had carefully packed the stuff together, and they now found it all in excellent condition. The heavy canvas had protected the food and dishes in the dizzy fall, though some of the cans had been considerably flattened.
"What do you say to having a real breakfast down here?" suggestedWalter.
"Yes, I'm hungry," urged Chunky.
"Oh, you'll get over that," retorted Ned.
"An excellent idea, but what are you going to do for a fire?" askedProfessor Zepplin.
They had not thought of that before.
"That's so. There is no wood down here at all," said Tad. "But, wait a minute. I know where there are some dead brush sticks a little way from here. Come on, some of you fellows, and we'll see what we can do."
When they returned each had his arms full of brush and vines, all of which they dumped in a heap on the edge of the rapids.
"It doesn't look very promising," said the Professor, with a doubtful shake of his head.
"No, I guess it will be a quick fire," answered Tad. "Ned, you get the coffee ready and the other things so we can put them on the fire the moment we get it started. I'll have the pile ready by the time you are."