Produced by Jim Ludwig
THE PONY RIDER BOYS IN THE GRAND CANYON
or
The Mystery of Bright Angel Gulch
by Frank Gee Patchin
CONTENTS
CHAPTERS
I. Westward Ho!
II. A View of the Promised Land
III. Tenderfeet Show Their Skill
IV. A Night in the Crater
V. Tad Lend a Helping Hand
VI. A Sight that Thrilled
VII. On the Rim of Eternity
VIII. The City in the Skies
IX. Chunky Wants to go Home
X. Escape is Wholly Cut Off
XI. A Trying time
XII. Braving the Roaring Colorado
XIII. A Battle Mightily Waged
XIV. The Dogs Pick up a Trail
XV. The Mystery of the Rifle
XVI. A New Way to Hunt Lions
XVII. The Whirlwind Ball of Yellow
XVIII. The Unwilling Guest Departs
XIX. The Fat Boy Does a Ghost Dance
XX. In the Home of the Havasupais
XXI. Chunky Gets a Turkish Bath
XXII. A Magical Cure
XXIII. Stacy as an Indian Fighter
XXIV. Conclusion
CHAPTER I
WESTWARD, HO!
"Ow, Wow, Wow, Wow! Y-E-O-W!"
Tad Butler, who was industriously chopping wood at the rear of the woodshed of his home, finished the tough, knotted stick before looking up.
The almost unearthly chorus of yells behind him had not even startled the boy or caused him to cease his efforts until he had completed what he had set out to do. This finished, Tad turned a smiling face to the three brown-faced young men who were regarding him solemnly.
"Haven't you fellows anything to do?" demanded Tad.
"Yes, but we have graduated from the woodpile," replied Ned Rector.
"I got my diploma the first time I ever tried it," added Chunky Brown, otherwise and more properly known as Stacy Brown. "Cut a slice of my big toe off. They gave me my diploma right away. You fellows are too slow."
"Come in the house, won't you? Mother'll be glad to see you," urged Tad.
"Surely we will," agreed Walter Perkins. "That's what we came over to do."
"Oh, it is, eh?"
"Didn't think we came over to help you chop wood, did you?" demanded
Chunky indignantly.
"Knowing you as I do, I hadn't any such idea," laughed Tad. "But come in."
The boys filed in through the wood house, reaching the sitting room by way of the kitchen. Tad's mother gave them a smiling welcome, rising to extend a warm, friendly hand to each.
"Sit down, Mrs. Butler," urged Walter.
"Yes, we will come to you," added Ned.
"We haven't lost the use of our legs yet, Mrs. Butler," declared the fat Chunky, growing very red in the face as he noted the disapproving glances directed at him by his companions.
"I hope you won't mind Chunky, Mrs. Butler," said Ned apologetically.
"You know he has lived among savages lately, and——-"
"Yes, ma'am, Ned and I have been constant companions for—-how long has it been, boys?"
"Shut up!" hissed Ned Rector in the fat boy's ear. "I'll whale you when we get outside, if you make any more such breaks."
"Never mind, boys; Stacy and myself are very old, old friends," laughed
Mrs. Butler.
"Yes, ma'am, about a hundred years old, more or less. Oh, I beg your pardon. I didn't mean it just that way," stammered Chunky, coloring again and fumbling his cap awkwardly.
"Now you have said it," groaned Walter.
"Go way back in the corner out of sight and sit down before I start something," commanded Ned. "You must excuse us, Mrs. Butler. It is as Chunky has said. We are all savages—-some of us more so than others, some less."
"It is unnecessary to make apologies. You are just a lot of healthy young men, full of life and spirits." Mrs. Butler patted Tad affectionately on the head. "Tad knows what I think of you all and how appreciative we both are over what Mr. Perkins has done for us. Now that I have had a little money left me, I am glad that Tad is able to spend more time with you in the open. I presume you will soon be thinking of another trip."
"We're always thinking of that, Mrs. Butler," interrupted Ned. "And we couldn't think of a trip without thinking of Tad. A trip without Tad would be like—-like——-"
"A dog's tail wagging down the street without the dog," interjected the solemn voice of Chunky Brown from his new headquarters.
"I move we throw Chunky out in the wood house," exploded Ned. "Will you excuse us while we get rid of the encumbrance, Mrs. Butler?"
"Sit down and make your peace. I know you boys have some things to talk over. I can see it in your faces. Go on with your conference. I'll bring you some lemonade in a few moments," said Mrs. Butler, as she left the room.
"Well, fellows, is this just a friendly call or have you really something in mind?" asked Tad after all had seated themselves.
"I'm the only one with a mind that will hold anything. And I've got plenty in it, too," piped Chunky.
Ned Rector sighed helplessly. The other boys grinned, passing hands across their faces that Stacy might not observe their amusement.
"We want to pow-wow with you," said Walter.
"That means you've something ahead—-another trip?"
"Yes, we're going to the——-" began young Brown.
"Silence! Children should be seen, but not heard," commanded Ned.
Chunky promptly hitched his chair out, joining the circle.
"I'm seen," he nodded, with a grimace.
"Then see that you're not heard. Some things not even a Pony Rider boy can stand. You're one of them."
"Yes, I'm a Pony Rider," answered Chunky, misapplying Ned Rector's withering remark.
"Another trip, eh?"
"That's it, Tad. Walt's father has planned it out for us. And what do you think?"
"Yes, what d'ye think? He's going——-"
"Look here, Chunky, are you telling this or am I?" demanded Ned angrily.
"You're trying to, but you're making an awful mess of the whole business.
Better let me tell it. I know how and you don't."
"Give Ned a chance, can't you, Chunky?" rebuked Tad, frowning.
"All right, I'll give him a chance, of course, if you say so. I always have to take a back seat for everybody. I'm nothing but just a roly-poly fat boy, handy to draw water, pitch and strike camp, gather firewood, wash the dishes, cook the meals, save the lives of my companions when they get into scrapes, and——-"
This was too much for the gravity of the Pony Rider Boys. They burst out into a hearty laugh, which served to put all in good humor again. Chunky, having relieved his mind, now settled down in his chair to listen.
"Now, Ned, proceed," said Tad.
"Well, Mr. Perkins thinks it would be fine for us to visit the Grand
Canyon."
"Of the Colorado?"
"Yes."
"Tad knows more'n the rest of you. You didn't know where the place was. Walt thought it was some kind of a gun that they shot off at sunrise, or——-"
No one gave any heed to Chunky's further interruption this time.
"The Grand Canyon of the Colorado?" repeated Tad, his eyes sparkling.
"Isn't that fine? Do you know, I have always wanted to go there, but
I hardly thought we should get that far away from home again. But what
plans has Mr. Perkins made?"
"Well, he has been writing to arrange for guides and so forth. He knows a good man at Flagstaff with whom Mr. Perkins hunted a few years ago. What did he say the name was, Walt?"
"Nance. Jim Nance, one of the best men in that part of the country.
Everybody knows Jim Nance."
"I don't," declared Chunky, suddenly coming to life again.
"There are a lot of other things you don't know," retorted Ned Rector witheringly.
"If there are you can't teach them to me," returned Stacy promptly.
"As I was saying when that interrupted me, Mr. Perkins wrote to this man, Nance, and engaged him for June first, to remain with us as long as we require his services."
"Does Mr. Perkins think we had better take our ponies with us?"
"No."
"Then we shall have to buy others. I hardly think I can afford that outlay," said Tad, with a shake of the head.
"That is all arranged, Tad," interrupted Walter. "Father has directed
Mr. Nance to get five good horses or ponies."
"Then Professor Zepplin is to accompany us?"
"Yes."
"Poor Professor! His troubles certainly are not over yet," laughed Tad. "We must try not to annoy him so much this trip. We are older now and ought to use better judgment."
"That's what I've been telling Ned," spoke up Stacy. "He's old enough to——-"
"To—-what?" demanded Ned.
Chunky quailed under the threatening gaze of Ned Rector. He mumbled some unintelligible words, settled back in his chair and made himself as inconspicuous as possible.
"Pooh! Professor Zepplin enjoys our pranks as much as do we ourselves.
He just makes believe that he doesn't. He's a boy himself."
"But an overgrown one," muttered Stacy under his breath.
"Where do we meet the Professor?" asked Tad.
"How about it, Walt?" asked Ned, turning to young Perkins.
"I don't think father mentioned that."
"We shall probably pick him up on the way out," nodded Tad.
"Well, what do you think of it?" demanded Ned.
"Fine, fine!"
"You don't seem very enthusiastic about it."
"Don't I? Well, I am. Has Mr. Perkins decided when we are to start?"
"Yes, in about two weeks."
"I don't know. I am afraid that is too soon for me. I don't even know that I shall be able to go," said Tad Butler.
"Why not?"
"Well, we may not be able to afford it."
"Pshaw! Your mother just said you might go, or words to that effect. Of course you'll go. If you didn't, I wouldn't go, and my father would be disappointed. He knows what these trips have done for me. Remember what a tender plant I was when we went out in the Rockies that time?"
"Ye—-yes," piped Stacy. "He was a pale lily of the valley. Now Walt's a regular daisy."
Young Perkins laughed good-naturedly. He was not easily irritated now, whereas, before beginning to live in the open, the least little annoyance would set his nerves on edge.
Mrs. Butler came in at this juncture, carrying a pitcher of lemonade and four glasses on a tray. The Pony Riders rose instinctively, standing while Mrs. Butler poured the lemonade.
"Oh, I forgot the cookies, didn't I?" she cried.
"Yes, we couldn't get along without the cookies," nodded Chunky.
"Now don't let your eyes get bigger'n your stomach," warned Ned.
"Remember, we are in polite society now."
"I hope you won't forget yourself either," retorted Stacy. "I'll stand beside you. If you start to make a break I'll tread on your toes and——-"
"Try it!" hissed Ned Rector in the fat boy's ear. The entrance of Mrs. Butler with a plate heaped with ginger cookies drove all other thoughts from the minds of the boys. "Mrs. Butler," began Ned, clearing his throat, "we—-we thank you; from the bottom of our hearts we thank you—-don't we, Stacy?"
"Well, I—-I guess so. I can tell better after I've tried the cookies.
I know the lemonade's all right."
"How do you know?" demanded three voices at once.
"Why, I tasted of it," admitted Chunky.
"As I was saying, Mrs. Butler, we——-"
"Never mind thanking me, Ned. I will take your appreciation for granted."
"Thank you," answered Stacy, looking longingly at the plate of cookies.
"Now help yourselves. Don't wait, boys," urged Tad's mother, giving the boys a friendly smile before turning to leave the room.
"Ah, Mrs. Butler. One moment, please," said Ned.
"Yes. What is it?"
"We—-ah——-"
"Oh, let me say it. You don't know how to talk in public," exclaimed Chunky. "Mrs. Butler, we, the Pony Rider Boys, rough riders, Indian fighters and general, all-around stars of both plain and mountain, are thinking——-"
Ned thrust Chunky gently aside. Had it not been for Mrs. Butler's presence Ned undoubtedly would have used more force.
Tad sat down grinning broadly. He knew that his mother enjoyed this good-natured badinage fully as much as the boys did.
Ned rapped on the table with his knuckles.
"Order, please, gentlemen!"
"That's I," chuckled Stacy, slipping into a chair.
"Laying all trimmings aside, Mrs. Butler, we have come to speak with you first, after which we'll have something to say to your son."
Mrs. Butler sat down in the chair that Tad had placed for her.
"Very good. I shall be glad to hear what you have to say, Ned."
"The fact is—-as I was about to say when interrupted by the irresponsible person at my left——-"
"I beg pardon. I'm at your left," remarked Walter.
"He doesn't know which is his left and which is his right," jeered
Chunky. "He's usually left, though."
"I refer to the person who was sitting at my left at the time I began
speaking. I had no intention of casting any aspersion on Mr. Walter
Perkins. As I was about to say, we are planning another trip, Mrs.
Butler."
"Where away this time, Ned?"
"To the Grand Canyon——-"
"With the accent on the yon," added Stacy.
"The Grand Canyon of the Colorado?"
"Yes, ma'am. Mr. Perkins has arranged it for us. Everything is fixed.
Professor Zepplin is going along and——-"
"That will be fine, indeed," glowed Tad's mother.
"Yes, we think so, and we're glad to know that you do. Tad didn't know whether you would approve of the proposed trip or not. We are—-ahem—-delighted to learn that you do approve of it and that you are willing that Tad should go."
"Oh, but I haven't said so," laughed Mrs. Butler.
"Of course she hasn't. You see how little one can depend upon what Ned
Rector says," interjected Stacy.
Ned gave him a warning look.
"I should say that you approve of his going. Of course we couldn't think of taking this trip without Tad. I don't believe Mr. Perkins would let Walt go if Tad weren't along. You see, Tad's a handy man to have around. I know Chunky's people never would trust him to go without Tad to look after him. You see, Chunky's such an irresponsible mortal——-"
"Oh, I don't know," interrupted the fat boy.
"One never knows what he's going to do next. He needs some one to watch him constantly. We think it is the fault of his bringing up."
"Or the company I've been keeping," finished Chunky.
"At any rate, we need Tad with us."
"Then I shall have to say 'yes,'" replied Mrs. Butler, nodding and smiling. "Of course Tad may go. I am glad, indeed, that he has such splendid opportunities."
"But, mother, I ought to be at work," protested Tad. "It is time I were doing something. Besides, I think you need me at home."
"Never mind, Tad. When you have finished with these trips you will be all the better for them. You will have erected a foundation of health that will last you all your life. Furthermore, you will have gained many things by the experience, When you get at the real serious purpose of your life, you will accomplish what you set yourself to do, with better results."
"That—-that's what I say," began Chunky. "Haven't I always told you——-"
"Stacy is wise beyond his years," smiled Mrs. Butler. "When he is grown up I look for him to be a very clever young man."
The eyes of the boys still twinkled merrily, for Chunky, unable to guess whether he were being teased, was still scowling somewhat. However, he kept still for the time being.
"Yes, Tad may go with you," continued Mrs. Butler. "You start—-when?"
"In about two weeks," Walter replied. "Father said he would call to discuss the matter with you."
"I shall be glad of that," nodded Mrs. Butler. "I shall want to talk over the business part of the trip."
Then the youngsters fell to discussing the articles of outfit they would need. On this head their past experience stood them in good stead.
"Now, I presume, I have said all that I can say," added Mrs. Butler, rising. "I will leave you, for I would be of very little use to you in choosing clothing and equipment."
Before she could escape from the room, however, Tad had risen and reached her. Without exhibiting a twinge of embarrassment before the other young men, Tad held and kissed her, then escorted her to the door. Walter and Ned smiled their approval. Chunky said nothing, but sat blinking solemnly—-the best possible proof of his approbation.
All of the readers of this series know these young men well. They were first introduced to Tad and his chums in the opening volume, "The Pony Rider Boys In The Rockies." Then were told all the details of how the boys became Pony Riders, and of the way they put their plans through successfully. Readers of that volume well recall the exciting experiences and hair-breadth escapes of the youngsters, their hunts for big game and all the joys of living close to Nature. Their battle with the claim jumpers is still fresh in the minds of all readers.
We next met our young friends in the second volume, "The Pony Rider Boys In Texas." It was on these south-western grazing plains that the lads took part in a big cattle drive across the state. This new taste of cowboy life furnished the boys with more excitement than they had ever dreamed could be crowded into so few weeks. It proved to be one long round of joyous life in the saddle, yet it was the sort of joy that is bound up in hard work. Tad's great work in saving a large part of the herd will still be fresh in the mind of the reader. How the lads won the liking of even the roughest cowboys was also stirringly told.
From Texas, as our readers know, the Pony Riders went north, and their next doings are interestingly chronicled in "The Pony Rider Boys In Montana." Here the boys had the great experience of going over the old Custer trail, and here it was that Tad and his companions became involved in a "war" between the sheep and the cattle men. How Tad and his chums soon found themselves almost in the position of the grist between the millstones will be instantly recalled. Tad's adventures with the Blackfeet Indians formed not the least interesting portion of the story. It was a rare picture of ranch and Indian life of the present day that our readers found in the third volume of this series.
Perhaps the strangest experiences, as most of our readers will agree, were those described in "The Pony Rider Boys In The Ozarks." In this wild part of the country the Pony Rider Boys had a medley of adventures—-they met with robbers, were lost in the great mountain forests, and unexpectedly became involved in an accident in a great mine. The final discovery of the strange secret of the mountains was the climax of that wonderful saddle journey.
From the wooded Ozarks to the stifling alkali deserts of Nevada was a long jump, but the lads made it. All of our readers remember the rousing description of adventures that were set forth in "The Pony Rider Boys In The Alkali." This trip through the grim desert with its scanty vegetation and scarcity of water proved to be a journey that fully demonstrated the enduring qualities of these sturdy young men. The life, far away from all connection with civilization, was one of constant privation and well-nigh innumerable perils. The meeting with the crazed hermit of this wild waste formed one of the most thrilling incidents. The whole vast alkali plain presented a maze the solving of which taxed to the utmost the ingenuity of the young men. However, they bore themselves with credit, and came out with a greater reputation than ever for judgment, courage and endurance.
Our next meeting with these lads, who were fast becoming veterans of the saddle, was in the sixth volume, "The Pony Rider Boys in New Mexico." Here, again, the lads ran upon Indian "signs" and experiences, not the least of which was their chance to be present at the weird fire dance of the Apaches. The race with the prairie fire, the wonderful discoveries made in the former homes of the cave-dwellers, and the defence of the lost treasure in the home of the ancient Pueblo Indians are all matters well remembered by our readers.
Now another journey, to the scene of one of Nature's greatest wonders, the Grand Canyon of the Colorado, was absorbing the thought of Tad Butler and his young friends.
"The question is, what'll we take with us?" asked Ned Rector.
"Yes, that's one of the things about which we wanted to talk with you," spoke up Walter Perkins. "You always think of things that none of the rest of us remembers."
"Oh, I don't know. You're all pretty good planners. In the first place, you know you want to travel light."
"We aren't likely to travel any other way," scoffed Chunky. "Whatever we do, though, let's not travel light on food. I can stand almost anything but food—-I mean without food—-I mean——-"
"I don't believe you know what you do mean," jeered Ned. "Well, what about it, Tad?"
"As I was saying, we should travel light. Of course, we must take our own equipment—-saddles, quirts, spurs, chaps, lasso, guns, canteen, slicker and all that sort of thing. I suppose the guide will arrange for the pack train equipment."
"I'll speak to father about that," said Walter. "I don't know just what arrangements he has made with the guide."
"We can no doubt get what ammunition we need after we get to Flagstaff, if that is to be our railway destination. Folks usually have ammunition in that country," added Tad, with a faint smile. "Our uniforms or clothes we know about. We shall no doubt need some good tough boots for mountain climbing——-"
"Do we have to climb mountains?" demanded Stacy.
"Climb up and fall down," answered Walt.
"Oh, dear me, dear me! It'll be the death of me, I know," wailed the fat boy. "I'd rather ride—-up. I can get down all right, but——-"
"Yes, you certainly can get down," laughed Ned.
"Then we shall want quite a lot of soft, strong rope, about quarter-inch Manila. I don't think of anything else. We ought to be able to pick up whatever else we need after we get out there———"
"I guess that's all, fellows, isn't it?" asked Ned.
"All but the shouting," answered Stacy.
"You are well able to do that. You'd better practise up on those favorite exclamations of yours—-"
"What are they?"
"Y-e-o-w and W-o-w!"
"Who-o-o-p-e-e!" answered Chunky in a shrill, high-pitched voice.
Ned Rector clapped a hand over the fat boy's mouth with a resounding smack. Chunky was jerked backward, his head striking the chair with a bump that was audible all over the room.
"You stop that business. Do you forget where you are? That's all right out in the wilds, but not in civilized society," declared Ned.
"Whe—-where's the civilized society? Don't you do that to me again, or I'll——-"
"Chunky's all right. Let him alone, Ned. Mother doesn't care how much noise we make in here. In fact, she'd think something was wrong with us if we didn't make a big racket. Chunky, if you are so full of steam you might go out and finish the woodpile for me. I've got to cut that wood this afternoon."
"No, thank you. I'm willing to hunt for the colored man in the woodpile, but I'm a goat if I'll chop the wood. Why, I'd lose my reputation in Chillicothe if I were seen doing such a common thing as that."
"No, that would be impossible," answered Ned sarcastically.
"Eh? Impossible?" questioned Stacy.
"Oh, yes, yes, yes. I'll write it down for you so you'll understand it and——-"
"He means that you can't lose what you don't possess," explained Walter.
Chunky grunted his disgust, but made no reply. The boys then fell to discussing the proposed trip. Tad got out his atlas and together they pored over the map of Arizona. After some time at this task, Chunky pulled a much soiled railway map from his pocket. This gave them a more detailed plan of the Grand Canyon.
"You see, I have to show you. When it comes to doing things Stacy
Brown's the one on whom you all have to fall back."
"You are almost human at times, Stacy. I'm free to admit that," laughed Tad. "Yes, this is just what we want."
Chunky inflated his chest, and, with hands clasped behind his back, walked to the window and gazed out into the street, nodding patronizingly now and then to persons passing who had bowed to him. In his own estimation, Stacy was the most important person in Chillcothe. So confident was he of this that several persons in the community had come almost to believe it themselves. Chunky, by his dignified and important bearing, had hopes of converting others to this same belief. As for his three companions—-well, a journey without Stacy Brown would be a tame and uneventful journey at best.
The greater part of the afternoon was devoted to making plans for the coming trip, each having his suggestions to make or his criticism to offer of the suggestions of others. Though the arguments of the Pony Riders at times became quite heated, the friendship they held for each other was never really strained. They were bound together by ties that would endure for many years to come.
Each day thereafter, during their stay at home, they met for consultation, and when two weeks later they had assembled at the railroad station in Chillicothe, clad in their khaki suits, sombreros, each with a red bandanna handkerchief tied carelessly about his neck, they presented an imposing appearance and were the centre of a great crowd of admiring boys and smiling grown-ups. There were many exciting experiences ahead of the Pony Rider Boys as well as a series of journeys that would linger in memory the rest of their lives.
CHAPTER II
A VIEW OF THE PROMISED LAND
For nearly three days the Pony Rider Boys had been taking their ease in a Pullman sleeping car, making great inroads on the food served in the dining car.
It had been a happy journey. The boys were full of anticipation of what was before them. At intervals during the day they would study their maps and enter into long discussions with Professor Zepplin, the grizzled, stern-looking man who in so many other journeys had been their guardian and faithful companion. The Professor had joined them at St. Louis, where the real journey had commenced.
All that day they had been racing over baked deserts, a cloud of dust sifting into the car and making life miserable for the more tender passengers, though the hardy Pony Riders gave no heed to such trivial discomforts as heat and dust. They were used to that sort of thing. Furthermore, they expected, ere many more days had passed, to be treated to discomforts that were real.
Suddenly the train dashed from the baked desert into a green forest. The temperature seemed to drop several degrees in an instant. Everyone drew a long breath, faces were pressed against windows and expressions of delight were heard in many parts of the sleeper.
They had entered a forest of tall pines, so tall that the lads were obliged to crane their necks to see the tops.
"This is the beginning of the beginning," announced Professor Zepplin somewhat enigmatically. "This is the forest primeval."
"I don't know," replied Chunky, peering through a car window. "It strikes me that we've left the evil behind and got into the real thing."
"What is it, Professor?" asked Tad Butler.
"As I have said, it is a primeval forest. This great woodland stretches away from the very base of the San Francisco mountains southward for a distance of nearly two hundred miles. We are taking a short cut through it and should reach Flagstaff in about an hour from now."
"Hurrah! We're going to see the Flagstaff in an hour," cried Stacy, his face wreathed in smiles.
"A further fact, which is no doubt unknown to you, is that this enormous forest covers an area of over ten thousand square miles, and contains six million, four hundred thousand acres."
The boys uttered exclamations of amazement and wonder.
"If you'd said ten acres, I'd understand you better," replied Stacy. "I never could think in such big figures. I'm like a rich fellow in our town, who doesn't know what money is above a certain sum."
"Well, what about it?" demanded Tad.
"Up to fifty dollars, he knows how much it is, but for anything above that it's a check," finished Chunky, looking about him expectantly.
No one laughed.
"Speaking of checks," said Ned Rector after an interval of silence, "did you bring along that snaffle bit, Tad?"
"What snaffle bit?"
"The one we were going to put on Stacy Brown to hold him in check?"
A series of groans greeted Ned's words. Chunky grumbled something about making a checker board of Ned's face if he didn't watch out, after which the Professor turned the rising tide into other and safer channels by continuing his lecture on the great Arizona forest.
As the train dashed on the Pony Riders were greeted with occasional views of a mountain differing from anything they ever had seen. One peak especially attracted their attention. Its blackened sides, and its summit bathed in a warm glow of yellow sunshine, gave it a most striking appearance.
"What is it, Professor?" asked Tad, with an inquiring gaze and nod toward the mountain.
"Sunset Mountain," answered Professor Zepplin. "You should have discovered that."
"But it isn't sunset," objected Walter.
"It is always sunset there. The effect is always a sunset effect."
"In the night, too!" questioned Chunky.
"No, it's moonset then," scoffed Rector.
"In the same direction you will observe the others of the San Francisco mountains. However, we shall have more of this later on. For the present you would do well to gather up Your belongings, for we shall be at our journey's end in a few minutes."
This announcement caused the boys to spring up, reaching to the racks above for such of their luggage as had been stowed there. All was bustle for the next twenty minutes. Then the train drew into the station, the cars covered with the dust of the desert, changing the dark brown of their paint to a dirty gray.
The boys found that they had arrived at a typical western town, a tree-surrounded, mountain-shadowed, breeze-blown place set like a gem in a frame of green and gold, nestling, it seemed, at the very base of the towering peaks of the San Francisco mountains, whose three rough volcanic peaks stood silent sentinel over the little community clustered at their base.
The railroad track lined one side of the main street, while business blocks and public houses were ranged on the opposite side. Here the garb of the Pony Riders failed to attract the same attention that it had done further east. There were many others on the station platform whose clothes and general get-up were similar to those of the boys.
But as they descended from the sleeping car, their arms full of their belongings, each carrying a rifle in a case, they caught sight of a man who instantly claimed their attention. He was fully sixty years old, standing straight as a tree and wearing a soft black felt hat, a white shirt and a wing collar. From his chin, extend almost back to the ears, there stood a growth of white bristling whiskers. As he tilted his head backward in an apparent effort to stand still more erect, the whiskers stood out almost at right angles, giving him a most ferocious appearance.
Tad felt a tug at his sleeve. He turned to find the big eyes of Chunky
Brown gazing up into his face.
"Is that the Wild Man of the Canyon?" whispered Stacy.
"I don't know. He looks as if he might be a Senator, or——-"
"Any of you boys know where we can find Jim Nance?" interrupted the
Professor.
"I reckon we do," drawled a cowboy.
"Well?" urged the Professor somewhat irritably.
"Wal?" answered the cowboy.
"Will you please tell us where we may find him, pardner?" spoke up Tad, observing how the land lay and wishing to head off friction.
"I reckon that's him," answered the cowboy, pointing to the straight, athletic figure of the old man.
Tad grinned at Chunky.
"That's our guide, Bub."
"He looks fierce enough to be a man eater."
"I'm afraid of him," whispered Stacy. "He's mysterious looking, too; like the Canyon."
Professor Zepplin strode up to the old man.
"Mr. Nance, I believe."
"Y-a-a-s," drawled the old man.
The Professor introduced himself, then one by one called the boys up and presented them, the old man gazing keenly with twinkling, searching eyes into the face of each one presented to him. Chunky said "ouch" when Nance squeezed his hand, then backed off.
"This is Mr. Nance, the gentleman who is to be our guide," announced
Professor Zepplin.
"We're all glad to see you, Mr. Nance," chorused the Pony Riders.
"Ain't all tenderfeet, eh?" quizzed the guide.
"No, not exactly. They have been out for some time. They are pretty well used to roughing it," declared the Professor.
"Good idea. They'll think they haven't before they get through with the old Grand."
"How about our ponies?" asked Tad. "Have you engaged them?"
"You pick 'em out. I'll take yon to corral after you've had your dinner."
All hands walked across the street to a hotel, where they sat down to the first satisfying meal they had eaten since leaving home.
"This beats the spirit meals we've been having on board the train," announced Stacy, his eyes roving longingly over the heaped up dishes.
"Don't lick your chops," cautioned Ned. "There are some polite folks here, as you can see.
"What's that you said about spirit meals?" quizzed the guide after they had gotten started with their dinner.
"The kind a fellow I knew used to make for his men on the farm," answered Stacy promptly.
"Tell us about it. I never heard you mention it," urged Tad.
"He fed his men mostly on spirit soup. Ever hear of spirit soup?"
"I never did. Any of you boys ever hear of spirit soup?"
The Pony Riders shook their heads. They were not particularly interested in Chunky's narration. Ned frowned and went on with his dinner.
"Well, this fellow used to make it. He had barrels of the stuff, and——-"
"How is the chuck made?" demanded Jim Nance.
"I'll tell you. To make spirit soup you catch a snipe. Then you starve him to death. Understand?"
Nance nodded.
"After you've starved him to death you hang him up on the sunny side of the house till he becomes a shadow. A shadow, you understand? Well, after he's become a shadow you let the shadow drop into a barrel of rainwater. The result is spirit soup. Serve a teaspoonful a day as directed," added Stacy, coming to a sudden stop as Ned trod on his toes with a savage heel.
Jim Nance's whiskers stood out, the ends trembling as if from the agitation of their owner, causing Chunky to shrink within himself.
"Very unseemly, young man," rebuked the Professor.
"It seems so," muttered Walter under his breath; then all hands laughed heartily.
The meal being finished, Nance ordered a three-seated buckboard brought around. Into this the whole outfit piled until the bottom of the vehicle bent almost to the ground.
"Will it hold?" questioned the Professor apprehensively.
"I reckon it will if it doesn't break. We'll let the fat boy walk if we've got too big a load," Nance added, with a twinkle.
"No, I'll ride, sir," spoke up Stacy promptly. "I'm very delicate and
I'm not allowed to walk, because——-"
"How far is it out to the corral, Mr. Nance?" questioned Tad.
"'Bout a mile as the hawk flies. We'll be there in a jiffy."
It appeared that all arrangements had been made by Mr. Perkins for the stock, through a bank in Flagstaff, where he had deposited funds to cover the purchase of stock and stores for the trip through the Canyon. This the Professor understood. There remained little for the boys to do except for each to pick out the pony be fancied.
They looked over the mustangs in the corral, asking the owner about this and that one.
"I'll take that one," said Chunky, indicating a mild-eyed pinto that stood apparently half asleep.
The owner of the herd of mustangs smiled.
"Kind and sound, isn't he?" questioned the fat boy.
"Oh, he's sound all right."
"Do you know how to handle a pinto, boy?" questioned Nance.
"Do I? Of course I do. Haven't I been riding the toughest critters on the ranges of the Rockies for years and years? Don't I know how to rope anything that ambles on four legs? Well, I guess! Gimme that rope. I'll show you how to fetch a sleepy pinto out of his dreams."
The black that Chunky coveted seemed, at that moment, to have opened his eyes ever so little, then permitted the eyelids to droop. It was not a good sign as Tad viewed it, and the Pony Rider was an excellent horseman.
"Better be careful, Chunky," he warned. "Shan't I rope him for you?"
"I guess not. If I can't rope him I'd like to see you do it."
"Sail in. You know best," answered Tad, with a grin, winking at Ned and the Professor. Jim Nance appeared to take only a passive interest in the matter. He might have his say later provided his advice were needed.
Chunky ran his rope through his hands, then grasping the hondo, strode boldly into the corral.
"I reckon it's time we were climbing the fence," announced Tad.
"I reckon it is," agreed the guide, vaulting to the top rail, which action was followed by the other two boys, only the owner of the herd and Professor Zepplin remaining inside the corral with Stacy.
Suddenly Stacy let go the loop of his lariat. It dropped over the head of the sleepy pinto. The pinto, at the touch of the rope, sprang into sudden life. Then things began to happen in that corral. Stacy Brown was the center of the happenings.
CHAPTER III
TENDERFEET SHOW THEIR SKILL
"Woof!" exclaimed Ned Rector.
"Oh!" cried Walter Perkins.
"Good boy! Hang on!" shouted Tad encouragingly.
It is doubtful whether Stacy heard either the words of warning or those of encouragement from Tad, for at that moment Stacy's feet were up in the air. The pinto had leaped forward like a shot the instant it felt the touch of the rope. Of course Chunky, who had clung to the rope, went along at the same rate of speed.
A great cloud of dust rose from the corral. The mustang was darting here and there, bucking, squealing and kicking. In a moment most of the other mustangs were doing likewise. The owner of the herd, calling to the Professor, darted out, leaving one bar of the fence down. Professor Zepplin, becoming confused, missed his way and found himself penned into one corner at the far side, almost the center of a circle of kicking mustangs.
Tad saw the danger of their companion almost at once. The lad leaped down, and darting among the kicking animals, made his way toward the Professor just as Stacy's mustang leaped the bars. Stacy's toes caught the top rail, retarding his progress for the briefest part of a second, then he shot out into the air after the racing mustang.
"Leggo!" roared the boys.
"Let go!" shouted the guide. "The little fool! Doesn't he know enough to come in out of the wet?"
"You'll find he doesn't, sir. Your troubles have only just begun.
You'll be demanding an increase of wages before you have followed
Stacy Brown for a full twenty-four hours," prophesied Ned.
In the meantime Tad had reached the Professor, regardless of the flying hoofs about him. With his rope the boy drove the animals off just in time. Somehow they seemed to have taken it into their heads that the Professor was responsible for their having been disturbed and they were opening their hoof batteries upon him. They gave way before the resolute young Pony Rider almost at once. They recognized that this slender young plainsman and mountaineer was unafraid.
The Professor was weak in the knees by the time he had been led out.