"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?" suggested Walter.

"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?" asked Professor 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."

With considerable skill the lad arranged the heap, placing the dead leaves and the driest of the sticks at the bottom. On top he placed a mass of half green stuff, packing the whole down by throwing himself on the pile, after which he rounded it up in a mound shape, with a circle of stones in the middle.

The fire blazed up encouragingly, and Ned, getting water from the rapids for the coffee, put the pot quickly into the ring of stones.

"Something's going to happen in about a minute," announced Chunky, with an air of great wisdom. He had been watching the preparations with hands thrust deeply into his pockets.

"What's going to happen?" demanded Ned, turning on him sharply.

Chunky, instead of replying, leaned back against the rocks and began to whistle. In a moment the disaster that he had foreseen was upon them.

The flimsy pile of brush and vines, after the fire had burned away its foundations, gave way beneath the weight of the stones. Coffee pot, coffee and stones went down with a crash and a clatter.

"Save the coffee pot!" shouted Ned, giving Chunky a push.

"Save it yourself. I'm not the cook," answered the fat boy, who chanced to be nearest to the fire. "I told you something was going to happen."

In the meantime Tad Butler had sprung to the rescue. With one well-directed kick he had scattered the brush and rescued the coffee pot before serious damage had been done to it.

Rushing to the river, he scooped up a fresh supply of water, planting the pot in the center of the fire and heaping the burning stuff about it.

"We'll have some coffee after all," he glowed. "I don't think Ned is much of a cook, do you, Chunky?"

"'Bout as good as you are at making fires to cook by, I guess," mumbled Chunky.

Tad laughed with them at his own expense.

The water was soon boiling, however, and with the canned stuff laid on the canvas which had been spread out close to the water, the jolly party shortly after that were able to sit down to breakfast.

"Two lumps of sugar I believe you take, Professor?" questioned Ned politely, poising a handful of lumps over the Professor's cup.

"Give me four," interjected Chunky.

"You take yours clear this morning," retorted Ned.

"I got the condensed milk, anyway," jeered Chunky. "No sugar for me, no condensed milk for you," and he planted the can firmly between his feet, which were curled up half under him.

"Oh, give him the sugar. I have to take my coffee half milk," begged Walter.

"All right, hand over the condensed milk then. I'll give you two lumps," said Ned.

"Three," replied Chunky, firmly, making no move to hand over the milk.

Ned let the lumps drop into his companion's cup, but from such a height that Chunky had to dodge as the coffee flew up.

He wiped a few drops of the coffee from his face, deliberately filled his cup to overflowing with milk, then handed the can to Walter.

"I guess Chunky doesn't need any of our help. He is pretty well able to take care of himself," laughed Tad.

"Delicious," breathed the Professor, sampling his cup of steaming liquid.

"Who, Chunky?" asked Ned quizzically.

"Certainly not the coffee," replied the Professor in a tone of reproof.

The meal was finished with many a jest and the pack divided up into bundles so that each should have his share to carry, after which the lads took up their return tramp.

They arrived at the mountain trail shortly before noon.

"Where's the guide?" asked Tad, glancing about.

"Probably asleep somewhere," replied Ned. "He's almost as big a sleepy head as Chunky."

"He is not here, Ned."

"Most unreliable guide we've had. I shall dismiss him immediately upon our arrival at the Red Star Mine," decided the Professor. "You are sure he is nowhere about, Tad?"

"You can see. He's not here. I hope he has left the rope. I'll climb up there and find out. No, he has taken it with him, evidently."

"Here's the rope," called Stacy, hauling it from a clump of bushes where it had evidently been dropped.

"Coil it and cast it up here," directed Tad.

This done, he began hauling up the bundles that they made fast to it below. Finally, this was completed without accident. All hands took up their packages from that point and started along the winding trail that led up the mountain side.

"Most peculiar, most peculiar," muttered the Professor.

"Maybe some of those spirits that the Indian was talking about came up and got him," suggested Stacy, with serious face.

"Maybe," agreed Ned. "But I'd sooner think they would take you if they were the real bad spirits."

"It is my opinion," declared Professor Zepplin gravely, "that the spirits that trouble Eagle-eye most are not the supernatural kind. We certainly drew a prize when we picked him."

"We did," agreed Tad, laughing.

"Next time we'll choose a white man, if we can get one—"

"Hello, he isn't here, either," called Ned, who was the first to reach the end of the trail at the top.

Tad, close behind him, cast a searching glance about.

"That's not all that is missing, either," he said sharply.

"What!" exclaimed the Professor.

"Two more ponies, that's all," replied Tad Butler. "We are a smart lot to let him steal our stock right under our very eyes."



CHAPTER X

THE PROFESSOR DISTINGUISHES HIMSELF

The boys uttered a cry of dismay.

"You don't mean—you can't mean they have been here again?"

"It looks that way," replied Tad. "Both Walter's and Ned's ponies are gone. See, the ropes have been untied, not cut. The ponies surely did not do that."

The Professor was much too excited to speak for the moment.

"I am glad they did not take your mount, Professor. That is one thing to be thankful for, anyway," said Tad. "I don't understand this business at all."

"Why, they must have been hanging about our camp all the time. They followed us here," exploded Ned. "We are a lot of tenderfeet."

"Some of us," suggested Chunky.

"This is no joke," snapped Ned, turning on him almost savagely. "We are in a fix."

"Yes, but we've got two mules left, haven't we," queried the boy whimsically.

"It's an outrage!" shouted the Professor. "I'll have the law on them whoever they are. They shall suffer for this!"

"Yes, but first we shall have to catch them, Professor," returned Tad. "It seems we were not misinformed when they warned us to be on the lookout for horse thieves."

"In Springfield, yes. I had no idea it was as bad as this. They certainly can't get away without being caught."

"I don't know about that. But I do know that we have been easy game for the thieves."

"Do you think they took anything else?" demanded the Professor.

"I don't see that anything else is missing, do you, Ned?"

"No."

"See, they took off the saddles. Didn't want them for some reason. I'm glad of that. By the way, did they get my saddle when they stole my pony last night?" asked Tad.

"No, I had your saddle in my tent," Walter informed him.

"The question is—" began Tad.

"The first question is, what has become of Eagle-eye," interrupted the Professor.

"That's so. I had forgotten about him," said Tad.

The lads looked at each other questioningly. The same thought was in the mind of each.

"You—you don't suppose—" muttered Walter.

"Of course! That's it! It's Eagle-eye!" exclaimed Ned.

"Don't be too quick to accuse anyone, young gentlemen. It is very irritating, I know. But let us be slow about placing the charge at any man's door, be he copper colored or white."

"But, Professor," expostulated Ned Rector, "he goes away, and while absent from camp two ponies are stolen. To-day we leave him halfway down the rocks and upon our return, two more ponies are missing, as well as the Indian himself. What can we think, but that he has had something to do with our loss?"

"If I remember correctly, it was Eagle-eye who called our attention to the fact that the animals had been stolen last night. You thought they had broken away," recalled Professor Zepplin.

"That's so," agreed Ned.

"It certainly does look bad. If Eagle-eye had no hand in the theft, why should he run away as he seems to have done?" asked Tad.

"This is what is known as circumstantial evidence," the Professor informed them. "I do not say that the Indian is guiltless. I am simply counseling caution. Wait. We shall soon be at the mines, and from there, we can set the officers of the law on the track, which we shall do as soon as we are able to communicate with Mr. Munson."

"Yes, but how are we going to get there?" asked Ned.

"Guess we'll have to ride the mules," grinned Stacy.

"You may be a mule driver if you wish—I'll walk," retorted Ned.

"That's what we all shall have to do," laughed Tad. "Glad the thieves didn't take our guns."

"And the food," reminded Stacy.

"Yes. Probably they knew you had your appetite with you," laughed Ned.

In the meantime Tad had begun a search about the place for clues. He discovered where the animals had been taken from camp, but, as in the case with the loss of the other animals, the trail suddenly disappeared a short distance from camp.

"They seem to have headed for the west. We are sure of that much," decided Ned.

"Which means nothing at all," answered Tad. "They may have turned and gone back or else are traveling along ahead of us. In either case we can't follow them. Do you not think we had better be starting, Professor? We cannot afford to lose a minute now. I want my pony."

"And so do I—and I—and I," added the lads, one after the other.

"I think so. Yet how are we going to find our way? We shall be lost."

"No, we can't get lost, Professor," interrupted Stacy.

"Not lost—cannot get lost?"

"No."

"Why not?" glared the Professor.

"We can't get lost," announced Stacy impressively, "because we don't know where we are, anyway."

A roar of laughter greeted this assertion. It did more than anything else to put the boys in a better frame of mind—unless perhaps it might have been the return of the lost ponies.

"I am forced to admit the correctness of Master Stacy's logic," replied the scientist, after their laughter had subsided.

"It seems fairly simple to me," spoke up Tad. "The mountains run in a southeasterly direction. If we follow that direction we are bound to come out somewhere—"

"In Arkansas or the Indian Territory or some other place," cut in Ned Rector.

"As I understand it," went on Tad, not heeding the interruption, "these gorges or canyons in the Ozark range follow the same general direction. We have one right here by us, and we have the sun above us. Between the two we should be able to find our way."

"That sounds promising, Master Tad. You are a level-headed young man, even if you do take long chances and do foolish things now and again. I shall adopt your suggestion and we'll be off at once."

They were forced to pack some of their belongings on the back of Professor Zepplin's mount, while each of the two mules was subjected to an additional load.

When the packing had been finished there was little room for anyone to ride, so Tad took one of the mules, Ned Rector the other, leading them by short ropes, and started off followed by Walter and Stacy on foot, with the Professor riding his own pony.

The boys moved away with broad grins on their faces as they thought of the spectacle they were creating. Yet there was none to watch their undignified progress. However, leading a mule and riding a pony were two distinctly different operations. The boys were in a hurry and the mules were not and over this difference of inclination they had many disagreements.

Once Ned lost his temper with the beast of burden that he had in tow, and used his crop rather too freely to suit the long-eared animal. The latter kicked until he kicked the pack from his back.

Amid the shouts of laughter of his companions, his face red and perspiring, Ned was obliged to gather up the pack in sections and strap it in place again, which he did after much endeavor. Thereafter he kept his temper.

"I've heard it said that a mule wouldn't kick after twelve o'clock," said Chunky. "Guess it wasn't true."

"Perhaps it is after twelve o'clock at night that was meant," suggested Tad.

"Mules are asleep then, aren't they?"

"Supposed to be, I guess."

"Then that's it," answered the fat boy somewhat enigmatically.

They failed to make any great distance that day. How far they had advanced they did not know. Shortly before sundown they called a halt at Professor Zepplin's suggestion.

The mules went to sleep while the boys were unloading them. Ned confessed that he was nearly fagged. Tad, on the other hand, declared that he had never felt better in his life.

"Hope they won't steal anymore live stock," said Ned. "If they do we'll have to pack the outfit on our own backs, which, after all, probably wouldn't be any harder than trying to lead a stubborn mule. I think I'll tie a string around the necks of the stock and hitch the string to my big-toe to-night. Then I'll know if anybody tries to run off with them."

"Run off with your big-toes?" queried Chunky.

"No, run off with the ponies, I said—I mean the pony and the mules."

Stacy's eyes lighted up appreciatively.

"I've got a string that you can use," he said. "I'll fix it up for you. Shall I?"

"You would like to see me lose my big-toes, wouldn't you? No, thank you, I'll furnish my own string if I decide to adopt the plan."

After supper had been cooked and eaten, and the dishes washed, all hands gathered around the camp-fire, where they remained until bedtime, which on that particular night was earlier than usual, because all were more or less tired after their active day.

It was decided that some one should be left on guard lest they lose their remaining stock. The Professor took the first half of the night, Tad going on at half past twelve and remaining through the rest of the night.

Nothing occurred to disturb the camp, for which all hands were thankful. Tents were quickly struck after breakfast and once more the outfit started out on the trail after having discussed the advisability of bearing to the west a little. Their final conclusion, however, was to keep within sight of the gorge.

Two days passed as the little outfit crawled along over the rough mountain passes, down through broad deep washes and narrow draws. It was trying work, but the lads kept up their spirits. So inured were they to hardships, by this time, that the unusual strain gave them little or no inconvenience.

On the morning of the third day they had about decided to change the course and try to find their way out of the mountains as the quickest method of getting out of their predicament.

They were gathering their equipment together preparatory to making a start in the new direction, when Tad startled the camp by a sudden exclamation of surprise.

"What is it this time?" cried the Professor, prepared for almost any surprise.

"I see smoke!"

"Oh, is that all," answered Ned disgustedly, not at first realizing the importance of the announcement to them. "I thought maybe you had discovered the missing ponies."

"Perhaps I have. Who knows? At any rate, don't you see it means we are going to meet some human beings at last? We haven't seen one, outside of our own party, in several days, though we have good reason for thinking that one or more has been near us."

"Smoke, smoke?" queried the Professor. "Where?"

"There, to the southwest."

"That's so, it is smoke. It surely is."

"Must be somebody's camp-fire," decided Tad, studying the wisps of vapor that were curling lazily up on the clear, warm morning air.

"Indeed, it must be," declared the Professor. "We must get in touch with them at once, for they no doubt will soon be on their way. We have not a minute to lose."

The Professor began bustling about excitedly.

"It will be an hour or more before we can hope to get there with our old local freight train," objected Ned. "They probably will be gone long before that."

"Yes. I have it," cried the Professor. "I will hurry over there on my pony. You boys come along at your leisure. Even if they do not wish to wait for the rest of our party, I shall be able to get directions at least, and perhaps to hire some one to pilot us on to the Red Star."

This seemed to be good judgment, so the boys hastened to saddle the Professor's mount, and in a few moments he was jogging away as rapidly as the uneven ground would permit, his eyes fixed on the distant spiral of smoke curling lazily upward.

"Guess we had better follow as fast as we can," suggested Tad.

"Chunky, get busy. What are you standing around with your hands in your pockets for while Rome is burning?" shouted Ned Rector. "Hurry up! Take down those tents, pack all the stuff over to the mules and—"

"And what are you going to do while I'm doing that?" drawled Stacy.

"Me? I'm going to boss the job. What did you suppose I was going to do?"

"Oh, that's about what I thought you would be doing. I'll pack my own stuff. You can leave yours here for all I care," laughed the fat boy, sauntering to his tent without the least attempt to hurry.

"Don't tease him so," advised Tad in a low voice.

"What, tease Chunky Brown? You couldn't tease Chunky with a club. I just say those things to get him started. He says such funny things."

Nevertheless, the camp was struck in record time that morning, and the pack mules loaded so rapidly that they turned back their soulful eyes in mild protest.

"Got a new job for you to-day, Chunky," announced Ned Rector while cinching the pack girths.

"What is it?"

"We've decided to let you follow along behind with a sharp stick and prod the mules so they will make better time."

"Think I'll wait till after twelve o'clock to-night," answered the fat boy.

They were off soon after that, but the mules had never seemed to move as slowly as they did that morning. Instead of an hour, more than two hours had passed before they finally came within hailing distance of the camp-fire. For some time, they had been finding difficulty in keeping it in sight, as the fire appeared to be dying down.

Tad shouted to attract the attention of the campers or the Professor to let them know the Pony Riders were coming. There was no reply, which caused the lads to wonder.

So they pushed the mules all they could, a vague apprehension that all was not as it should be, growing in their minds. They soon came upon the object of their search. What they found was a smouldering camp-fire.

"The camp is deserted," groaned Tad.

Not a person save themselves was within sight or sound. Professor Zepplin, too, had disappeared.



CHAPTER XI

CHUNKY OBJECTS TO EGG WATER

"Well, doesn't that beat all!" marveled Tad.

"Certainly does," agreed Ned.

"Yes, but I don't understand—what does this mean?" exclaimed Walter.

"I'm a poor guesser," answered Ned.

"It means that we are all alone," replied Tad. "Beyond that I could not guess."

Chunky had been viewing the scene with solemn complacency.

"We've got the mules, anyway," he nodded.

"Precious lot of good they'll do us," returned Walter.

"And we've got the food and—and I don't have to build a fire, either," added the fat boy.

"Yes, we have some things to be thankful for, that's a fact," laughed Tad. "My idea is that the Professor, finding the men had just left here, has hurried on to overtake them. I don't think we have any reason to worry."

"Then we had better stay right here," answered Ned.

"Yes. That is all we can do for the present."

"Think we had better unpack?"

Tad considered the matter briefly.

"I think we had better wait a little while," he decided.

"I think you are right. I hope we don't have to. We have enough food in our pockets to keep us going until night and—"

"Don't we get anything to eat until night?" wailed Chunky.

"Not unless you can browse," retorted Ned. "There's plenty of green stuff hereabouts."

"You can eat with the mules if you wish to. I don't."

"Might as well keep the fire up," decided Tad, gathering up a fresh supply of green stuff which he dumped on the graying ashes. "The smoke will help the Professor to find us quickly when he comes back."

"What if he shouldn't come back?" asked Walter, with sudden apprehension.

"Oh, he will. Don't worry about that. You can't lose the Professor."

The boys laughed, then settled down to make the best of their situation, whiling away the time with jest and stories.

After a time, Tad left the party and strolled from the camp in an effort to determine which way the late occupants of the camp had gone. He was beginning to feel worried, but as yet had confided nothing of this to his companions.

Examining the ground closely he found four distinct trails leading from the abandoned camp. These trails were fresh, showing that ponies had only recently been ridden over them. They all looked alike, however, and he was unable to determine which of them had been made by Professor Zepplin's pony.

"Evidently the party, whoever they were, split up after leaving here," thought the lad aloud. "I'd like to follow out the trails, but I don't dare do so. The Professor would be liable to return while I was away. Then again I might lose the trail and my own way at the same time. I've caused this outfit enough trouble as it is."

With this, Tad slowly turned back toward the camp.

He found a growing sense of uneasiness among his companions there.

"What did you discover?" asked Ned rather more solemnly than was his usual wont.

Tad told him.

"Then, there's no use trying to follow?"

"No."

"What time is it?"

"Half-past three," announced Tad after consulting his watch.

"Huh!" grunted Ned. "I guess the Professor has gone and done it himself this time."

"We'll wait," answered Tad easily.

After piling fresh fuel on the fire Tad went over and sat on the bluff overlooking the eastern slope of the range of mountains which they were traversing. Chunky lay stretched out sound asleep, untroubled by the series of disasters that had overtaken them.

Tad after running over in his mind many plans, none of which seemed practicable, also lay down for a nap, and in a few moments the tired boys were all sound asleep, including the pack mules.

When they awakened the sun had been down all of half an hour. Tad was the first to awake. He started up guiltily, and looking around found that he was not the only one who had napped.

"Hallo, the camp!" he shouted.

The other boys sat up suddenly, rubbing their eyes.

"Time to go to bed. Get up!" laughed Tad.

"Nice way to put it," growled Ned. "Tell a fellow to get up because it's time to go to bed."

"Wat'cher wake me up for?" demanded Chunky. "I was sleeping."

"So were all of us. First time I ever heard you object to being called to eat."

"Eat? Eat? Who said eat?" cried the fat boy, struggling to his feet with difficulty, his head whirling from the effort of pulling himself awake so suddenly.

"I did. It's night."

"You don't say," wondered Ned, looking around in surprise. "I—I thought I was back home in Chillicothe."

"Dreams, dreams," muttered Stacy. "No Professor yet, eh?"

"No. I believe he is lost. He surely would have been back long before this."

"Maybe he's gone the same place the Indian went," ventured Walter.

"Where's that?" queried Stacy, at once interested.

"That's a conundrum. You dream over it to-night," jeered Ned.

"We had better unpack and make camp," advised Tad. "Chunky, Walt and I will do that if you will get the supper."

"All right. Somebody get me some water."

"I will," said Walter quickly. "Anybody know where I can find it?"

"There must be some near by. Those other fellows would not have made camp here and remained all night unless there was water near—"

"Unless they know no more about these confounded mountains than we do, you mean?" laughed Ned.

After some searching about, Walter found a spring. It was full of water that had a whitish tinge to it. The lad tasted it gingerly, then smiled knowingly. Filling his pail he returned to camp with it.

By this time Tad and Stacy had unloaded the mules. The three boys got to work at once putting up the tents. In the absence of Professor Zepplin, they concluded to erect only two, and by the time this had been accomplished, Ned was ready for them.

"Come and get it!" he bellowed.

There was no table cloth, no table, just the bare ground, and the boys sat down to eat in the fresh, bracing air.

"No one who has not been camping for a long time can appreciate smoke," announced Ned oracularly. "If I had to go without my supper I believe if I could breathe smoke for a few minutes, I could almost imagine I had a full stomach."

"Well, I couldn't. I've heard of smoke-eaters, whatever or whoever they are, but I want something a little more lasting," announced Walter Perkins. "No smoked smoke diet for me."

"Nor for me," agreed Tad.

"What's a smoke eater?" asked Stacy.

"I should say that a Pony Rider Boy named Ned Rector was one, according to his own admission," laughed Walter.

"Pass the water, please."

Walter filled Stacy's cup. The fat boy drank it down without taking a breath. No sooner had he swallowed the liquid than he hurled the cup from him and leaped to his feet coughing and making wry faces.

They could not imagine what had happened.

"Slap him on the back, he's choking," shouted Ned.

Walter Perkins, by this time, was laughing immoderately, while his companions were jolting Stacy between the shoulders and shaking him violently.

"Stop pounding me, d'ye hear? Stop it, I tell you," cried Stacy, wriggling from their grasp, red of face, an expression of great indignation in his eyes.

"Did you swallow a bone?" queried Ned.

"Bone nothing."

"Then, please tell us the cause of all this unseemly disturbance. Your table manners are about the worst I ever saw, Stacy Brown."

"Water," gasped Stacy.

"Here," twinkled Walter, passing the pail.

"What's the matter with the water?" demanded Ned.

"Somebody's been putting old eggs in it. I believe you did that, Ned Rector, just to tease me."

Ned did not understand what the fat boy meant.

"Here, pass that pail. Is there anything the matter with that water, Walt? You got it."

"I think it is thoroughly good, wholesome water," replied Walter, holding his head low over his plate that they might not observe his amusement.

"Ugh!" exclaimed Ned, after tasting the liquid. He hurled the remaining contents of the cup full into the camp-fire.

"I told you so," nodded Stacy solemnly. "It's eggs and they weren't laid yesterday, either."

"You're right. Walt, where did you get that awful stuff?"

Tad and Walter were both drinking deeply of the liquid and apparently enjoying it.

"From the spring," gasped Walter, placing his cup on the ground.

"Don't drink that stuff. It'll make you all sick," commanded Ned.

"Don't be silly. That water is all right," laughed Tad.

"All right? Call that all right?" demanded Ned.

"Call that all right?" echoed Chunky.

"Of course it is. It is mineral water—sulphur water," spilling over his clothes the contents of the cup that he was carrying to his lips. Walter was laughing so that he finally let go of the cup itself and rolled over on his side, shouting with merriment.

"You can have it," announced Ned firmly.

"Yes, all of it," added Chunky. "I'll take my eggs hard boiled after this."

"Drink it. It will do you good, Chunky," urged Tad.

"No, thank you. I wouldn't offer it to a mule."

"So I see," flung back Ned, with a malicious little grin appearing in the corners of his mouth. "But speaking of mules, I wonder if it has occurred to anyone that our mules might be wanting a drink, too."

"Haven't they had any water to-day?" asked Tad.

"Haven't seen them drink since we left Springfield."

"Why, of course they have had water every day. They could not live without it."

"If they're like me they could—if they had to drink egg water," grumbled Stacy amid a loud laugh from his companions.

"I'll attend to them right after supper," decided Tad. "But just now we had better talk over our own situation. It is plain that something has happened to the Professor. How much longer will our provisions last, Ned?"

"Well, on a rough guess, I should say not beyond to-morrow."

"Then I should say in the first place that it would be wise to put the outfit on half rations beginning to-morrow morning—"

"No, no, no," protested Chunky, springing up and waving his plate excitedly.

"You won't have anything before you know it, young man," warned Ned.

"Yes, but we may have to stay here a week, if the Professor does not return. I do not see what good it will be to begin starving us until it is necessary," objected Walter.

"It will be necessary to-morrow," replied Tad.

"And after to-morrow what?"

"I shall hope to have some provisions here by that time, Ned."

Ned Rector laughed.

"Yes, I can almost see it now. How do you propose to get them, may I ask?"

"Go after them."

"Where?" queried Walter.

"Red Star mining camp. It cannot be so very far from here."

"Going to drag the mules after you?" asked Ned in a half sarcastic tone.

"No, I'm going on foot."

"What!" exclaimed the boys in one voice.

"You heard me. If Professor Zepplin has not returned by to-morrow morning I'm off for assistance and a fresh supply of food."

"And leave us here alone?" cried Chunky.

"Don't you see, fellows," continued Tad, "the Professor undoubtedly is in a worse fix than we are. He may wander about the mountains until he starves. I've simply got to stir somebody up to start out hunting for him. By remaining here we are only getting deeper into trouble. Don't you understand that?"

"Yes," admitted Ned. "But, then, why not let us all go with you?"

"Yes, that's the idea," interjected Walter.

"No, that is not good judgment."

"Why not?"

"In the first place some one must remain here to watch our outfit. We don't want to lose anything more than we have."

The boys nodded.

"Secondly, the Professor might possibly find his way back here, and the chances are he would lose himself again trying to find us."

"That's so," chorused the boys.

"And thirdly, as the Professor says, I can get along a lot faster alone than if you are all with me."

"Fellows, I understand why our friend Tad Butler wears a hat a size and a half larger than any of us—his head's bigger. Yes, you're right, Tad."

"Yes, yes," shouted Walter and Stacy, "that's the reason."

"And don't I get all I want to eat until he-he—until Tad gets back?"

"That depends upon how much you want. Judging from past experience, I should say you wouldn't," replied Ned.

"But what will happen to us if you get lost, Tad?"

"Yes, yes, that's what I want to know?" questioned Ned.

"I'll see that I don't."

"How?"

"This time I am going to blaze every tree I pass, with my hunting knife. It will enable me to get back if I fail to find the way, and it also will serve to guide the men here, if I find any to return with me."

"I take off my hat to you," exclaimed Ned.

"How many eggs have we left, Ned?"

"A dozen hard boiled ones, I think."

"Then I'll take three. I'll eat one for breakfast and carry the other two with me. That will leave three apiece for the rest of you."

"Oh, take a drink of water from that—that spring and save your egg till you need it," suggested Chunky.

"I'm going to start early in the morning, so I guess I'll turn in now. Remember, you are not to leave this place till I get back—that is, unless the Professor should return in the meantime."

"We promise," answered the lads together.

After putting the camp in shape for the night and attending to the mules the boys turned in and slept the night through without further incident.

Next morning when they turned out, Tad Butler had gone. On a piece of paper pinned to a tree they found a note reading: "I'm off, fellows. Bye."



CHAPTER XII

ALL GONE BUT TWO

"Well," grunted Ned Rector, as he served the meager breakfast, "at this rate there soon will be nothing left of the Pony Rider Boys except the skeletons of two mules."

Chunky, solemn-visaged, was munching his hard boiled egg slowly, in an effort to make it last as long as possible.

"This all I get to eat to-day?"

"Eat? No, certainly not. I'm going to cook all the rest of the day for you. Let's see, you shall have a porterhouse steak, fried potatoes, some nice fresh salad and a soup plate of ice cream and—"

"And a finger bowl," finished Chunky, without the suspicion of a smile.

"Yes, with egg water in it," added Ned.

It was the longest day they had ever put in. There was no difference of opinion on that point when the day was ended. They had hoped to hear from Tad before nightfall. He did not return, however, and they had little hopes of his doing so now that the darkness was coming on.

There was no merriment in the camp that night. By dint of careful management they had saved enough out of their supplies to give them a light breakfast on the following morning, After that they had no idea how they should manage, providing no assistance came to them.

The mules were the only indifferent ones in the party. They munched the green leaves contentedly, sleeping when they were not eating. Near the middle of the night one of the animals set up a loud braying which brought the boys from their cots in quick alarm. At first they could not imagine what it was. They tumbled out, shouting to each other.

"What is it, Indians?" cried Stacy, dancing about in his pajamas.

"No, it's nothing but a mule with an overloaded stomach," answered Ned turning back to his tent growling his disgust.

"Wish it wouldn't dream quite so loudly," grumbled Chunky.

When morning came, and still no tidings from either the Professor or Tad, the boys began to realize the seriousness of their position.

"Something's got to be done, fellows," announced Ned Rector.

"I wonder if we could not shoot some game," suggested Walter.

"That's a good idea. But, is there any game here?"

"I heard an owl last night," said Stacy.

"We haven't got down to owls yet. We may when we get hungry enough," returned Ned. "I think I'll take my rifle and go out gunning."

"Do you think the Professor would like you to do that?" questioned Walter.

"I am sure he would not wish us to starve. There must be some kind of game in these mountains that's fit to eat. I'll shoot almost anything that comes along."

"Don't you get lost, now," cautioned Walter.

"No danger. And I'll bring back something to eat, you take my word for that."

Ned, with rifle thrown over his left arm, stepped boldly from the camp, heading west, reasoning that this direction would take him into the heart of the mountains where he would be more likely to find game.

An hour passed; then they heard a gun.

"He's shot something," exulted Walter.

"At something, you mean," corrected Chunky.

A second shot followed quickly on the first, then a third one.

"Guess you're right, Chunky," smiled Walter.

Later on they heard three more shots.

"That sounded a long way off," mused Walter. "I'm afraid he is getting too far from camp."

Chunky nodded thoughtfully.

"He thinks he can shoot, but he can't. I wish I had a fish line. I'd go down to the river in the gorge there and see if I couldn't catch a fish. Maybe I can fix up something that will—"

"No, you don't, Stacy Brown. You stay right here. You would get lost before you got out of sight of the camp. I don't want to be left alone here, with nothing but a pair of long-eared mules for company."

Stacy shrugged his shoulders and began idly cutting his name in the bark of a tree with his knife.

"Funny we haven't heard Ned shoot in some time," said Walter after a long interval of silence. "He must be working his way back. Think so?"

"Nope," answered Stacy, still engaged with the knife.

"You don't? Why not."

"Hasn't got any more shells, that's why."

"I don't understand."

"He shot six times, didn't he?"

"Let's see—yes, I believe he did."

"Well, that's all the bullets he had in the gun. He'll have to throw stones if he sees anything else to shoot at."

A startled expression appeared on Walter Perkins's face.

"You're right, Chunky. But why don't he come back, then?"

"Lost, I guess," replied Stacy, not appearing to be in the least disturbed by his own announcement.

Walter started up in alarm.

"You don't—you don't think—"

"No, I'm just guessing."

"If—if Ned should get lost, too, it would be awful."

Stacy nodded indifferently, Walter meanwhile pacing restlessly back and forth.

The lad's face wore a troubled look. With the Professor and all his companions save Stacy, gone; with no food left in camp, Walter Perkins had reason to feel alarmed.

Chunky, however, whittled on undisturbed.

"Are you hungry, Chunky?" asked Walter, pausing in his walk, later on.

Stacy nodded.

The day had worn along well into the afternoon and neither of the boys had had anything to eat since early morning. Their appetites were beginning to assert themselves.

"I'm going to get some mineral water. It surely will help some. Come on, it won't hurt you."

Stacy turned a pair of resentful eyes on his companion.

"No egg water for me. I'll starve first," he answered, with more spirit than usual.

While Walter went to the spring to help himself to the sulphur water, Stacy stood off to view his artistic work on the bark of the tree.

"Guess—guess they'll know I've been here, anyway," he mumbled.

"That's real good stuff," announced Walter, as he returned. "I do not feel nearly so hungry as I did before. Better try some."

Stacy made no reply to the suggestion.

When twilight came on, Walter Perkins was more alarmed than ever. There could be no doubt now that Ned Rector had missed his way. Stacy remained unmoved. He bedded down the mules. When he returned from this duty he carried something bright in one hand. Walter's eyes caught it at once.

"What have you there?" he demanded.

"Can of orange marmalade," replied Chunky, with a twinkle. "Guess it must have been dropped out when we unloaded the pack. Good thing there's only two of us to eat it."



CHAPTER XIII

WINNING THROUGH PLUCK

Tad Butler had left the camp at daybreak. He started off at a slow trot which he kept up over the rough, uneven ground until some time after sunrise, all the time keeping the mountain gorge in sight so that he might not lose his way.

He had eaten no breakfast, having simply taken a cup of sulphur water, believing that he could make better time on an empty stomach. However, he now sat down and munched on one of the three hard boiled eggs he had taken with him.

"Guess it will be a good thing to rest for half an hour," he said to himself. This he did, by stretching flat on his back, after having finished his scanty breakfast.

Sharp on the half hour by his watch, Tad sprang up, greatly refreshed. Leaning well forward he dropped into a long, easy lope, which carried him over the ground rapidly. Hard as nails and spurred on by the need of his companions, the lad pushed on and on, blazing his trail as he went, not feeling any fatigue to speak of. Now and then he would pause for a few moments to make sure that he was not straying from the river gorge, which occasional rocks and foliage hid from his view.

At noon Tad sat down and ate another egg.

"I must be getting near the place," he mused.

Still there was no trace of human habitation. There remained nothing for him to do save to push on, which he did stubbornly.

When the sun went down he seemed no nearer to the object of his search than when he had set out at daybreak. The lad, after looking about, came upon a tree which he climbed in order to get an unobstructed view of the country. He argued that camp-fires would be lighted for the evening meal. Not a sign of smoke could he discover anywhere.

Tad's heart sank.

"I've got to stay out all night," he muttered. "If I were sure of finding some one in the morning I wouldn't mind."

There remaining about two hours before dark, he decided to push on as long as he could see. So he trotted on resolutely until the shadows fell so densely about his path that he could no longer find his way.

Tad reluctantly halted and after selecting a suitable place, gathered wood for a camp-fire. Water there was none, so he had to do without it while he ate his last egg.

Then he lay down to sleep, refusing to allow himself to think very long at a time of his lonely position.

Late that night, the boy awakened, finding the moon shining brightly.

He got up and looked about him. The camp-fire had died out. The light of the moon was so strong that he could make out the surroundings almost as well as in daylight.

"I may as well go on," he decided. "Perhaps I'll get somewhere in time for breakfast. If I don't I surely will have no breakfast, for I haven't a scrap of food left."

So he trudged on. He did not run this time, for a little more care than he had been exercising was now necessary to avoid pitfalls in the shadows cast by rock and tree.

Daylight came, but still the weary boy kept on his way. Hungry? Yes, Tad was actually faint for want of food. He tried the experiment of chewing some leaves that he knew were harmless. At first this gave him some relief. After a little it made him sick, so he did not try the experiment again. He feared he was going to give out.

Toward eleven o'clock the boy came out upon a rise of ground overlooking a long slope. He rubbed his eyes almost unbelievingly.

Halfway down the slope was a shack and off beyond it stood a man with his back turned toward him.

Tad uttered a shout of joy and began leaping down the incline. The man down there, startled by the cry, wheeled suddenly and descrying the figure of Tad Butler racing toward him, ran to his cabin, appearing a moment later with a rifle in his hands.

A moment more a second man dashed out, he too carrying a gun. Both men stood facing the lad, until, when he got near enough, they discovered that it was a boy; then they laughed and lowered their weapons.

Tad fairly staggered up to them.

"Act as if ye'd seen a ghost, young feller. What's the excitement about?" demanded the first of the two men.

Tad explained as best he could between breaths, at which the men laughed more heartily than ever.

"I want something to eat first of all. I'm half starved," he told them.

"Sorry, younker, but we ain't got more'n enough for ourselves. It's a long ways to where we kin git more."

"But I am willing to pay you for it. I must have food right now," protested Tad.

"So must we."

"Who are you?" demanded Tad indignantly. "I didn't suppose there was a man mean enough to refuse a boy at least a piece of bread when that boy was starving."

"We're prospecting. I reckon we know our business best. Ye can't get any chuck out of this outfit."

"Then tell me where the Red Star Mine is. I've got to get there at once."

"She's nigh onto fifteen miles off thar—"

"Why, that's the direction I came from," exclaimed the lad.

"Sure. Ye must have dodged it. Did ye pass the Ruby Mounting?"

"I don't know. Where is it?" asked Tad Butler.

"You'd know if ye saw it once. It's a peak that looks red when the sun shines on it."

"No, I didn't pass the place. Tell me how I can get to the mining camp, even if you won't let me have anything to eat," begged the boy. "My companions will starve before I can get back unless I get help to them soon."

"Got a compass?"

"Yes."

"Then lay yer course north by northwest three p'ints and ye'll hit the Red Star plumb in the eye—if ye don't miss it," and the miner laughed coarsely. "Know anybody there?"

"Mr. Munson, Richard Munson."

"Dick Munson, eh?" returned the man, with increasing interest.

"I'll be going now. Much obliged for directing me, at least," said Tad, turning away and starting with compass in hand.

The men said something to each other in a low tone, but Tad paid no attention to them, hurrying away as fast as his weary limbs would carry him.

"Hey, young feller, come back here."

Tad did so reluctantly.

"Sorry we can't give ye anything to eat. My pardner and I reckon though that ye can milk the goat if ye want to."

"The goat?"

"Yep. The goat's our milk wagon—she gives milk for the outfit."

At first he thought they were joking, but Tad suddenly realized that the men were in earnest.

"I—I never milked a goat," he replied hesitatingly.

"Well, if yer hungry enough ye'll try."

"Where is the goat?"

"Oh, I dunno. Browsing hereabouts, I reckon. Look her up if ye want to. We ain't got time."

"Thank you. I'll try."

"Mebby you'll find her over in that little draw there to the left," suggested the miner.

Tad sought the draw and after some search came upon the goat rather unexpectedly. The animal gazed at him suspiciously and moved off when he spoke to her.

Tad coaxed without avail, until finally with a handful of green leaves, that he had pulled from a branch above his head, he managed to excite the animal's interest. While she was nibbling at his offering, Tad patted her and after a time managed to quiet her sufficiently to enable him to get around to one side.

He had milked cows, but this was his first experience at milking a goat. As a result the lad went about his task rather awkwardly. Holding his cup with the left hand and using the right, he soon filled the cup, gulping down the contents greedily.

"Gracious, that tastes good!" gasped the boy. "I never knew goat's milk was anything like that. I suppose I can take all I want."

He helped himself to another and still another cupful, until he felt that he could hold no more.

"Thank you, Mrs. Goat," he soothed, patting the animal, while she in turn rubbed her nose against his sleeve as much as to say, "You're welcome. Help yourself if you wish any more."

"No, thank you, I think I have plenty, but you shall have some more green leaves."

Tad pulled down branch after branch which he piled up in front of the goat, and which she attacked with vigorous nibbles and tugs.

Very much refreshed, the boy ran back to the miners' shack.

"How much do I owe you?" he asked.

"Don't owe us nuthin'."

"Well, here is twenty-five cents. I thank you very much," replied the lad, laying the money down in front of the door of the shack, because the miner refused to reach out his hand for it.

"You're welcome, kid. Mebby we might squeeze out a chunk of bread after all."

"I think I have had plenty. I do not feel hungry now," he smiled. "How far is it to the Red Star the way you have directed me?"

"As the eagle flies, 'bout twelve miles. You'll make it in fifteen, cause you'll have to go around a draw that you can't get through. When you get round the draw just come back till ye git on yer course again," directed the miner.

"Thank you. Good-bye. Hope I have a chance to return the favor some time," smiled Tad, swinging his hand in parting salute, as he started with renewed courage.

The fifteen miles of rough traveling did not discourage him in the least. He reasoned that he ought to reach the mining camp by four or five o'clock that afternoon. That would be in time for him to start back with food for the other boys, whom he had left in camp.

"My, but I'll bet Chunky is a walking skeleton by this time," smiled Tad, as the thought of his companion's appetite came humorously into his mind.

Talking to himself to keep up his courage, consulting his compass frequently, that he might not stray from the course in the least, the lad hurried on. Reaching the draw that the miners had described, he recognized it at once, worked his way around it and came back. He might have shortened the journey had he but known how to work out his course by the compass. Tad realized this. He told himself that he could not afford to try any experiment, however.

His judgment was verified, when, shortly after four o'clock he was gratified by sighting several pillars of black smoke.

"That's the place. I've hit it!" exulted the lad, breaking into a sharp trot, which he increased until he was running at top speed.

With clothes in a sad state of disorder, eyes red and sunken, Tad Butler burst into the Red Star mining camp. His sudden entrance caused the few people about to pause and gaze at him in astonishment.

"Where's Mr. Munson—Mr. Richard Munson? I must see him at once," he asked of one of these.

"He ain't here."

"What! Not here?"

"No."

"Then where is he? I must find him," expostulated the lad.

"Reckon you'll have a long run, then. He's gone over to the Mears mines. That's a good twenty miles from here, I reckon."

Tad groaned in his disappointment, and sitting down on a rock, buried his head in his hands.



CHAPTER XIV

RESCUE PARTIES ON THE TRAIL

"Who is in charge in his place? There must be some one that I can talk to," demanded the lad, starting to his feet.

"Might see Tom Phipps, the assistant superintendent."

"Where is he? Tell me quickly."

"See that shack over there?"

"Yes."

"Well, if he ain't there, he's somewhere else."

"Thank you," said Tad, unheeding the fling.

Tad started for the shack at top speed. He burst into the place, which proved to be office and sleeping place as well, without even thinking to knock, so excited was he.

A young man, who sat studying a map, glanced up in surprise.

"Mr. Phipps—Mr. Thomas Phipps, I want," said Tad.

"I am he."

"I beg your pardon for my seeming rudeness, sir, but I'm in an awful hurry."

"So I have observed," smiled the young man. "What is it—is there something I can do for you?"

"Indeed there is. I had hoped to find Mr. Munson, as he would know who I am. You do not, but I am going to ask a very great favor of you—"

"Perhaps I may know, if you will tell me," smiled Phipps.

"I am Tad Butler, one of the Pony Rider Boys, and we're in an awful fix."

"Shake," nodded the assistant superintendent, extending his hand. "Of course I know about you. Dick has told me about your trips this summer and he's been expecting you almost any time now. When he left this morning he charged me to be on the lookout for you. Where's the rest of your party?"

"I'm afraid most of them are in trouble."

"Tell me about it."

Tad related in detail all that occurred since they left Springfield, not omitting the sudden disappearance of the Indian, nor the loss of the ponies.

"So you've been hit too, eh? You are not the only ones who have lost stock. It's getting to be a common thing in this part of the country. Nor do they confine their depredations to stealing horses. They help themselves liberally to whatever they happen to want. It's never seen again. They have some secret method of smuggling their plunder from the range that we can't discover," continued Phipps breezily.

"I am most concerned just now with getting food to my companions and having some one start out for the Professor," urged Tad.

"Yes, I'm thinking that over. There are not many ponies in camp here. We had more, but the same thing happened to them that did to yours," said the young miner. "I think Munson is planning to make a round-up of the country with the idea of breaking up the band. You stay here while I go out and see what I can do about it. By the way, have you had anything to eat?" asked Phipps suddenly.

Tad told him honestly what he had had.

"Three eggs and a drink of nanny goat milk, eh? Not much to travel more than thirty miles on. Can you cook?"

"After a fashion," admitted Tad.

"Then get to work. There's bacon. You'll find bread and butter in the large tin box there. Help yourself. I would cook it for you only I would rather get things going for your friends," said Phipps cordially.

Tad protested that he could help himself and urged the miner to make all haste possible. After the latter had left him, the lad lost no time in starting the fire and in a few moments had bacon sizzling in the spider and the coffee pot steaming. He found some cold potatoes which he fried in the grease of the bacon.

"Don't that smell good!" exclaimed Tad, as the odor of the cooking drifted up to his nostrils. "If it tastes half as good as it smells I'll have the meal of my life."

He was not disappointed. Tad ate and ate, yet he was wise enough to restrain himself and chew his food well, knowing full well that he would have to submit himself to a still further test of endurance before he could call his work done.

The lad was still eating when Tom Phipps returned.

"What luck?" cried Tad anxiously.

"It's all right. I've rounded up enough ponies for the party. I have called six of the miners from work. They are men who know the mountains. The cook in the chuck house is preparing food for you to take back with you—that is if you intend to go—"

"Of course I do," spoke up Tad quickly.

"I think it will be best for the whole party to return with you to the place where your friends are camped. From that point they can start on the trail. They'll find the Professor. No doubt about that. After you all get back we will talk with you about the loss of your stock. Perhaps your experience may help us to land the band. I hope so."

"Can—can your men find their way in the dark?"

"I should say they could. Some of them know now from my description just where your camp is. Don't worry about that. Here they come now."

The miners, leading an extra pony for Tad, rode up at that moment. When they glanced at the slight, boyish figure of Tad Butler they were of the opinion that he had best remain at the mining camp. They did not believe him hardy enough to stand the grilling journey that lay before them.

They changed their minds before they had been out of camp an hour. Tad rode well up with the leader, sitting in his saddle like a veteran, taking obstructions in their path with jumps that some of the party balked at and rode around.

"Say, kid, where'd you learn to hit a saddle like that?" called one.

"Does my riding please you?" inquired Tad.

"I should say it did. You are no tenderfoot."

Though the party rode rapidly, the hour was late when they reached the vicinity of the Pony Rider Boys camp. Having approached the place from another direction, Tad did not know where he was.

"It must be somewhere hereabouts," decided the leader. "Can't you remember whether it was to the north or the south of this?"

"Which way is the gorge?" asked Tad.

"That way. Lays right the other side of those rocks."

Tad considered for a moment.

"Wait," he said, a sudden idea coming to him. "I do not remember this particular spot, but when I left the camp I blazed trees all along so I could find my way back. If there are any marks on the trees here, I made them."

The men leaped from their ponies and began examining the trees, from the cliff back several rods. Not a sign of fresh blazing were they able to discover.

"There's nothing here," announced the leader.

"Then I didn't go this way," answered Tad, with a note of finality in his tone.

"We are too far to the north, boys. Turn around and follow the canyon."

This they did until they had proceeded for something like half an hour, when the leader of the rescue party decided to get down again and examine the trees.

"Here's a blaze. Is that yours, kid?" he exclaimed.

Tad examined the mark on the tree carefully, having first lighted a match to aid him.

"Yes, yes; I did that."

"Then we've gone by the place. There can't be anybody there or we would have seen the camp-fire."

"They must be there! Let's go back over the ground!" exclaimed Tad.

The men turned about without another word. After a few moments had passed Tad began calling loudly.

Soon a shout just ahead of them told the party that at last they had found that which they were in search of.

Tad uttered a glad cry.

"Where are you?"

"Here," answered the voice of Stacy Brown.

Tad put spurs to his pony and dashed up to where he thought the voice had come from.

"Where are the rest of the boys?"

"Got anything to eat?" asked Chunky, rousing himself to full wakefulness.

"Yes, plenty. But where's Ned and Walter? Are they asleep?" insisted Tad Butler half fearfully.

"I don't know."

"What do you mean?"

"Ned went off to hunt some game because we didn't have anything to eat. He hasn't come back. Walt got crazy about it and I guess he went out to look for him, though he didn't tell me he was going to—"

"What time was that?" interrupted Tad.

"When Ned went away?"

"No, when did Walter leave?"

"I don't know. It was somewhere about sundown when I saw him last."

"Which way do you think he went?"

"That way, I guess," replied Chunky, pointing.

By this time the men had lighted the fire.

"Give that boy something to eat right now," commanded the leader the moment he set eyes on Stacy. "He's half starved. He can hardly stand."

They opened the package of food at once, giving the once fat boy a little at a time at first and compelling him to eat slowly.

"Then there is not one of them here but Chunky," muttered Tad.

"No—nobody but me and the mules," answered Stacy quickly.

No one thought of laughing.

"Are we not going out to look for the others now?" asked Tad.

"Yes, I reckon we might as well," decided the leader. "We'll leave your friend here till morning. One of our men will remain here with him. At daylight they will start for the Red Star. If anything has been heard there of the folks we are looking for, they can then send word back to us so we don't spend the rest of our lives hunting for them."

His plan seemed a logical one to Tad. The party was to spread out, covering a large area, literally dragging the mountains with a human net, it being agreed that when one made a discovery he was to inform the others by shooting twice into the air.

After having received their instructions the men quickly rode away. The moon had come out, lighting the way and making their journey much easier.

Stacy gave no further heed to the miner who had been left in charge of him, and promptly went to sleep on a full stomach. He had not experienced that agreeable sensation for some time.

The night was well advanced when two sharp reports from the south told the searchers that some of their party had gained tidings of the absent ones.

Each man wheeled sharply about and raced for the camp as rapidly as the rough trail would permit, arriving there about the time their leader rode in with Walter Perkins. He had found the lad less than half a mile from camp. Beyond being very badly frightened, Walter seemed none the worse for his experience. Instead of having followed the direction in which he had started, Walter had gradually worn around to the north until finally he was headed back toward their original starting point.

In a short time he realized that he was lost. He called loudly for help, but as there was no one to hear his cries, he had at last thrown himself down on the ground in despair to wait for morning.

It was there that the leader of the rescue party had stumbled upon him, Walter having heard and answered his hail.

"That's one. Spread out again, boys. We'll rope the rest of the youngsters before morning. They can't be far away. The Professor, as they call him, has a horse, and there's no telling where he is by this time."

But the task they had set for themselves this time, was not quite so easy of accomplishment.



CHAPTER XV

THE ROUND UP

Some miles from the camp the searchers next morning came upon an abandoned camp where there had been a fire and where, from the bones found there, they decided some one had eaten a rabbit.

"We're on the trail," said the leader. "We'll get him yet."

An hour later one of the men reported that he had picked up a repeating rifle with the magazine empty. When Tad joined them later, he identified the weapon as having been the one used by Ned Rector.

The course he was taking, if followed, would eventually take him out of the mountains into the open country. Perhaps through some instinct, the boy understood this and was seeking to gain the open where he would soon get food and directions for continuing his journey.

They found no other trace of the one they were looking for, however.

All that day and the next they drew the net slowly over that portion of the Ozark range that cut through the southwestern part of the state.

"I guess we shall have to give it up," confided the leader to Tad.

"Oh, no, we can't do that," objected the lad hastily. "We simply must find Ned and the Professor."

"If you can show me the way how or where, I wish you would then. We are only a few miles from the mining camp. I'll wager a jack rabbit couldn't have gotten through our lines, so we'd have been pretty likely to have rounded up a man on a pony or a boy on foot. Don't you think so?"

Tad was forced to admit that this was true.

"It's my idea that neither of them is in the range now, at all. If they are, they're below the Red Star—gone by the place entirely."

"That may be, but I do not see how it is possible."

"You went by her, didn't you?"

Tad colored.

"I guess so. But it was different in my case."

"Ah, that's it. It's different with them, too. If it wasn't, we would have found them long before this."

"Then you are going to give it up? Is that what you mean?"

"Don't see as there is anything else we can do. If we don't come across them this afternoon, we won't at all. See, there's the Ruby Mountain already."

"The Ruby Mountain! I've heard of that. What a peculiar formation it is. Almost blood red in spots. What is it—isn't there some superstition about the rock?"

"Well, you might call it that. There are those who declare they have seen strange lights appear on the face of the rock after dark."

"Have you?" queried Tad.

"Well, that's another story," laughed the leader.

"What makes it look so red?"

"That's the quality of the rock. It is red only when the sun or bright moonlight is shining on it. Isn't really red, you see."

Tad did not see, but his mind was too full of his own troubles to permit him to interest it deeply in the subject of the Ruby Mountain.

Continuing on their journey, the searchers eventually rode into the Red Star camp. By this time the entire camp was interested in what it was pleased to call "the man hunt." Somehow they were unable to free their minds of the idea that the disappearance of the members of the Pony Rider party was due to the mysterious band that had been terrorizing that part of the country for a long time.

Tom Phipps, assistant superintendent of the mine, had awaited the return of his rescue party with an impatience that he made no effort to conceal. He met them, mounted on his pony, as they entered the mine property. At first he was inclined to make the men turn about and go over the ground again, but after learning from the leader of the party the precautions they had taken, he decided that further search to the north would be futile.

What to do next he did not know, and in the absence of Mr. Munson, who had not yet returned, he was considering sending another party out to cover the territory south of the mining camp.

Stacy Brown had come in with his guide and the mules, and having satisfied his appetite, was in as good humor as usual. If he worried about the disappearance of his companions, he kept his trouble well to himself. Nevertheless he was waiting for Tad and the rescue party when they rode in.

"Hello, Chunky, any news?" called Tad on espying him.

Stacy shook his head.

"Have you any?" asked Chunky.

"No. We found where Ned had been, but we didn't see anything of him."

"That's too bad."

"Yes, you do seem to feel sad over it. I believe they are all right, however. Mr. McCormick, who has charge of this party, thinks so too. He believes they have succeeded in getting out of the mountains."

"So do I," cut in Tom Phipps. "Otherwise you could not have missed them."

"Yes, sir. But what would you advise doing now?"

"Should we hear nothing from them by morning I'll start a party for the open country to the west, and send another through the mountains south of here. I do not believe there will be much use in doing so to-night. Come over to my shack, you and your friend Brown, and we will talk the matter over while we are having our supper."

"Thank you. I guess I am pretty hungry. Has Mr. Munson returned?"

"No. I cannot imagine what is keeping him."

Turning his pony over to Mr. McCormick, Tad and Chunky followed the young mining engineer to his one-roomed cabin where the host had prepared an appetizing meal.

It was Tad's second meal in the place. This time, however, he found himself too much disturbed to eat heartily. His appetite seemed to leave him all at once.

"As I was saying just after you arrived," began Mr. Phipps—

"Hark! What was that?"

Tad raised a hand for silence.

"I heard nothing."

"It was somebody shouting, I am sure," answered Tad in a voice of tense expectancy. "Yes, there it is again."

"You're right," answered the miner, springing up and hurrying to the door.

The shouting now became general all up and down the street.

"What is it?" asked Tad.

"I don't know. Seems to be a party coming into the camp. It's Munson, that's who it is. There are two people with him on foot. I can't make them out in the twilight. Come on, we'll hurry down and find out what the uproar is about."

Instinctively Tad and Tom Phipps set off at a jog-trot, followed more leisurely by Stacy Brown.

Tad soon observed something familiar in the movements of the two figures who were walking beside the superintendent's pony, and in a moment Tad made out through the gloom the well-known form of Professor Zepplin.

"There they are! There they are!" he shouted. "They've got back. Hurrah!"

"Rah!" echoed Stacy Brown, flirting one hand lazily.

The meeting was a joyous one for all concerned.

"All hands come over to my shack," glowed Tom Phipps. "I want to hear about this mystery. Thought you were riding a pony, Professor Zepplin?"

"He was," laughed Dick Munson. "Some other people wanted the animal more than he did and helped themselves."

At this point, Walter, who was staying in another cabin, having heard the noise, had hurried over and joined the little party.

"Now let us hear all about it," urged Phipps, after all had gathered in his shack.

"There is not much to tell," smiled the Professor. "I did exactly what I had been warning my young men against. I lost myself. Then the next thing that happened, I lost my pony."

"How?" interrupted Mr. Phipps.

"I don't know."

"Stolen," nodded Dick Munson.

"Same old game," muttered Phipps. "Yes, what next?"

"Then in a most miraculous way I found Master Ned. I had gone to sleep, worn out and discouraged, not caring much whether I got back or not, the way I felt then. Along toward morning I woke up. I thought I had heard something. I listened, and then all at once realized that some one was snoring not far from me."

"And it wasn't Chunky this time," cut in Walter Perkins.

"Chunky doesn't snore on an empty stomach," laughed Tad.

"I called out, 'Hello, who's there?' The snorer woke up calling out something that I could not catch."

"Who was it?" asked Stacy in a hurry to learn what the Professor was getting at.

"Well, when he woke up he said his name was Ned Rector and that he was lost."

The Professor smiled grimly as the boys shouted with laughter, in which Tom Phipps joined. Even the rugged face of the superintendent relaxed into a broad smile.

"Yes, it was I," nodded Ned. "We had been sleeping within a rod of each other nearly all night and didn't know it. I had stumbled along after the Professor got to sleep. In the darkness of course I did not see him, and in his sound sleep he did not hear me."

"That's the funniest mix-up I ever heard of," chuckled young Mr. Phipps. "What did you do for food?"

"Master Ned, it seems, had shot two rabbits which he intended to take back to our camp. When he found that he too was lost, he built a fire and cooked them. What he did not need at once he wrapped up in his handkerchief and carried along with him—"

"Yes, we found the remnants of the jack rabbits," Tad informed them. "We picked up your rifle later, as well."

"Good," brightened Ned. "I had to throw it away. I had about all I could do to carry myself."

"Well, the rabbits saved us from starvation."

"Yes, but how did you happen to find Dick Munson, or he to find you?" queried Phipps.

"We wandered out of the mountains and lost ourselves in the foothills. How we got so far south I do not know. This morning we saw a horseman and shouted until we attracted his attention. The horseman proved to be the very man we wanted to see—Mr. Richard Munson himself."

"I—I am the only one who didn't fall in," piped Stacy, which caused everyone to laugh.

"We heard you shooting," said Walter. "I wish we might have had some of that rabbit meat. We nearly starved up there."

"Yes, let's hear how you boys got along," spoke up Ned. "We have told you all about our experiences. Now we want to know about yours."

Tad related in detail all that occurred to them since the Professor left them in pursuit of the elusive camp-fire. The Professor's eyes glowed appreciatively upon learning of Tad Butler's heroic tramp over nearly forty miles of rough mountain trail in the desperate effort to find food for his starving companions as well as help to rescue them from their perilous position.

But Munson, while complimenting Tad, was more deeply interested in the loss of their stock, about which occurrence he asked many questions.

"If we had a few men with your courage and resourcefulness we should soon put a stop to this wholesale thieving," he said.

"I'm going to find my pony before I leave this place, Mr. Munson," announced Tad firmly. "At least I am going to try pretty hard—"

A knock on the door of the shack cut short what he was going to say.

"McCormick reports that two ponies are missing from number two section," said a voice outside the door.



CHAPTER XVI

THE VOICE IN THE ROCK

"The thieves are getting bold!" was Dick Munson's comment.

"Seems to me they not only are getting, but have been for some time," laughed the Professor. "The condition of my feet proves that."

The Number 2 section to which the superintendent's informant had referred, was a quarry mine, off among the mountains in the vicinity of the red rock that had attracted Tad's attention as they neared the camp. He made a sudden resolve to visit the place on the following day.

Borrowing a pony next morning, and without telling anyone where he was going, Tad rode away with the Ruby Mountain as his destination. The trail was an easy one to follow and, besides, he had so recently been over it that he would be able to find his way there and back.

Just why he felt such a keen interest in the place the lad did not know. Perhaps it was that the miners had thrown such an air of mystery about it in speaking of the red rock. Aside from its color there was nothing about the pile of stone to distinguish it from almost any other rocky formation in the Ozark range, unless it were the slight resemblance that it bore to the form of a church. The lad had observed this the first time he saw it.

After riding around the pile, Tad dismounted, and, tethering his pony, proceeded to examine the place more carefully.

The rock was rough and uneven, with little spires running up here and there. The lowest of these was a considerable distance from the ground.

"I'd like to climb up there if I knew how," decided the boy, looking for an advantageous place to make the attempt.

"I have it. I know what I'll do. I'll rope the rock."

Tad laughed gayly at the thought as he ran back to where he had tethered the pony in the shrubbery. Tom Phipps had seen to it that the outfit was fully equipped, having added a lariat, because Tad had jokingly inquired where this necessary equipment was.

"Glad I happened to think of that. I'll never ride out without a rope again, even if it's up and down Main Street in Chillicothe."

Fetching the rawhide rope he skilfully cast it up and over the pinnacle of rock nearest to him. It was now a comparatively easy matter to climb by going hand over hand up the rope and bracing his feet against the side of the rock at the same time.

Once having reached the point where the rope had been fastened, the rest of the way was less rough.

The lad sat down to look about him, noting that the formation was a peculiar one, and that the reddish shade of the rock disappeared when one came into close contact with it.

"Why, it's just a plain, ordinary pile of stone," laughed Tad. "The idea that there could be anything mysterious about it! I'll climb up to the top and see if there is anything more interesting there."

There were frequent narrow crevices that the young explorer discovered on the way up. These appeared to reach down to a considerable depth, but having no weight to attach to the end of his rope he could not sound the depth with any degree of certainty. One of these crevices was large enough to admit his body.

The place fascinated him.

"I'm coming out here prepared to go down in that hole and investigate it," he said to himself. "I'll bring the boys—no, I won't either. I'll explore it all myself and maybe I'll find out something."

The lad was coiling his rope, preparing to descend when a low chuckle caused him to pause in sudden surprise. Startled, the boy looked about him. He was alone as he had been before.

"That's strange. I was sure I heard some one. Sounded as if it were right here beside me. I must have been wrong of course. Believe I'm losing my grit. After all the shaking up my nerves have had on this trip—"

"Hello!"

This time there could be no doubt. It was a human voice beyond all question.

"Hello," answered Tad, when, an instant later, he had in a measure mastered his surprise. "Where are you?"

"Guess."

"I can't. I am not a good hand at guessing."

Getting to his feet the lad began searching about, peering into crevices, looking over the edge of the cliff, becoming more and more perplexed and mystified as the moments passed.

"No, I can't find you. Come out and show yourself, whoever you are," he commanded, with some impatience.

A low, mocking laugh answered Tad's irritated command, yet the owner of the voice still remained hidden.

"Who are you, anyway? I know you are a girl, but—"

"But what?" tantalized the voice.

"That's all I know about it, and all I shall at the present rate. Come on, it's not fair to expect me to talk with you when I can't see you—"

"Aren't you afraid of ghosts, boy—"

"Ghosts!"

Tad uttered the word in a startled voice.

"Wha—what ghosts?"

"Yes."

"No, I'm not," he answered sharply. "But if it were night I think I'd run. Pshaw! you're no more ghost than I am. You're just a girl and I am going to find out where you are right now."

Acting upon his resolution, Tad began searching for the owner of the voice again. But when he had crawled to one side of the rock, the voice appeared to be on the other, where he had just been.

After a time Tad gave it up. He no longer heard the mysterious voice, so he clambered down, and after examining the rock from the ground once more, mounted his pony for return to camp.

Arriving there, his companions wanted to know where he had been, but Tad managed to evade their question without giving them a direct answer.

He was determined to return on the following day, when he would go about finding the owner of the mysterious voice in a different way.

When Tom Phipps came in from work, Tad drew him aside at the first opportunity.

"I've been over to the Ruby Mountain to-day, but please don't tell anyone."

"Saw something, did you?" laughed the assistant superintendent.

"No, that's the trouble. I didn't."

"What happened then?"

"I did not see, but I heard." Tad then related all that had occurred on his visit to the strange mountain.

Phipps did not laugh. He remained silent and thoughtful for some moments.

"That's strange. A miner prospecting there came back with a similar story a few months ago. Nobody believed him, though many strange things are said to have happened in the vicinity of that rock."

"What?"

"That's the trouble. One cannot get them to tell what they saw. You have come the nearest to doing so."

"Only I just missed it by about a mile," laughed Tad. "But you do not think it's—how shall I say it?"

Phipps bent a keen glance on the young man. "You mean through any supernatural agency?"

Tad nodded.

"That's what I wanted to say, but didn't know just how to put it."

"No, I am too practical to believe any such trash as that. My idea is that some one of a humorous turn of mind is trying to play tricks on people. You say it was a girl's voice?"

"Yes."

"That's strange. I'm going to look into that."

"Let's you and I go over there together to to-morrow, then," urged Tad enthusiastically.

"I'll do it—that is, if there is nothing on hand to detain me. I'll let you know later whether it will be possible or not."

"Very well. I have been thinking—wondering whether—"

Tad hesitated.

"Wondering what?"

"Whether that rock has anything to do with so many horses and things being stolen in the range."

Tom Phipps laughed heartily.

"I never thought of it in that light. Don't see how a rock could possibly have any connection with it. Guess we shall have to look for something more human than a pile of stone."

It was decided, therefore, that on the morrow the two should visit the Ruby Mountain, when they would make a careful examination of the place in an effort to solve the mystery.

But they were destined to delay this trip for some time, and to pass through some exciting experiences before they solved the mystery of the Ruby Mountain.



CHAPTER XVII

WHEN THE DARK HORSE WON

"Professor, Mr. Munson says there's going to be a roping contest and horse race near here, this afternoon. May we go over to see it?" asked Ned Rector early on the following morning.

"Well, I don't know about that. Haven't you boys had enough straying from home for a time?"

"We can get some one to go with us and show us the way," urged Walter.

"Yes, let the lads go," said Mr. Munson, coming up at that moment.

"Where is this place?" asked the Professor.

"At Jessup's ranch. It is about ten miles to the southeast of here, just outside the foothills of the range."

"I am afraid they would never find the way there and back," objected Professor Zepplin, shaking his head doubtfully.

"That is easily taken care of. I will have some one go with them. Why not go yourself?"

"I? No, thank you, not without a guide. I have had quite enough experience in trying to find my way about in these mountains," laughed the Professor.

"Then I'll have Tom Phipps go with you. I understand the boys are fond of anything in the horse line, and they usually have a great time over at Jessup's. He is a cattle man and, besides his own men, cowboys from neighboring ranches for twenty miles around ride in to take part."

"But, we have no ponies."

"I think we can arrange that all right. Here, Tom, I want you."

Mr. Phipps approached the little group, the superintendent, informing him in a few words of the plan he had in mind.

"Of course I'll go with them," smiled Phipps. "I'll be glad of the chance to get out in the open once more. We had better get started pretty soon if we are going."

"How about it, Professor?" queried Mr. Munson.

"I do not object if Mr. Phipps accompanies them."

"Hooray!" shouted the boys.

"Wish we had our own ponies," added Ned.

"So do I," chorused the others.

"You will come along, won't you, Professor?" urged Walter.

"No, I think not. I've had quite enough for a time. Think I will remain and study the geological formations of the strata hereabouts."

"There's plenty of it to occupy you for some time," laughed Tom. "The most important zinc mines in the world are strung along this range. And besides, there's lead enough hereabouts to supply the armies of the world if they were all engaged in active warfare."

Arrangements were quickly made for the trip to Jessup's, and the boys, full of anticipations for a pleasant day in the saddle, donned their chaps and spurs, and began practising with their ropes, while the ponies were being saddled and made ready for the journey.

"Do we take our rifles, Professor?" asked Stacy.

"You do not," answered the Professor, with emphasis. "What do you think you will need with guns at a horse race?"

"I—I don't know but that we might meet some wild animals," stammered Stacy.

Everybody laughed.

"Why, there are no wild animals of any account here," laughed Tom.

"Nothing bigger than a jack rabbit," said Ned.

"And Ned Rector got all there was of them," added Walter.

Laughing and joking, the lads mounted their ponies and set off for a day's pleasure.

The entertainment at the ranch was scheduled for the afternoon, so they had plenty of time in which to make the journey. They arrived shortly before noon, just in time to see the preparations made for a barbecue. A large Texas steer had been chosen for the occasion and roasted in a pit, and they were making ready to serve it.

Stacy's eyes stuck out as he saw the cook with a knife almost as long as a sword, cutting off slices as large as a good-sized platter, and serving them on plates scarcely large enough to hold the pieces, without the latter being folded over.

The fat boy managed to get an early helping by pushing his way through the crowd of hungry men that had gathered about the savory roast. When there was anything to eat, Stacy Brown would always be found in the front rank.

Just as they got started with the meal, a volley of shots sounded up the valley and a band of half a dozen cowboys, yelling, whooping and shouting came racing down on the Jessup ranch.

With a wild "y-e-o-w!" they circled the roast ox, then bringing their ponies up sharply, threw themselves from their saddles and greedily attacked the portions that were quickly handed out to them.

This barbecue and day of sports was one looked forward to by the cowmen with keen anticipation. Two a year were given on the Jessup ranch, one after the midsummer round up, and another late in the fall.

"This is great," confided Tad to Tom Phipps, as the two seated themselves on the grass to eat the good things set before them.

"It seems so to me. I don't get out of the mountains very often. I wish I could ride the way you boys do. You ride very well."

"We have to. At first some of us came a few croppers," laughed Ned, who had overheard the conversation. "Chunky had the most trouble, his legs being so short that it's difficult for him to reach the stirrups."

"I fell off," interjected the fat boy.

"That's a habit of his," laughed Ned.

"I wonder if they would let us take part in some of the games this afternoon," inquired Tad.

"Why, of course they will. I'll speak to Mr. Jessup about it," answered Tom Phipps.

When the owner of the ranch passed them later on, Tom called him, and after introducing the boys to him, told the rancher what they desired to do.

Mr. Jessup looked the lads over critically.

"It's a pretty rough game, boys," he smiled. "But you look as if you were able to take care of yourselves. Of course you may go in for the fun if you want to. I'll tell the bunch."

"Thank you," said Tad, rising.

Mr. Jessup shouted to attract the attention of the noisy cowboys.

"Hey, fellows, we have a bunch of tenderfeet lads from the East with us to-day. They're taking a trip over the mountains and they want to know if they can join you in the fun this afternoon?"

"Sure!" roared the cowboys. "We'll give the tenderfeet all the fun they want."

Tad smiled appreciatively.

"Don't let them disturb you," warned Tom. "They mean all right."

"Yes, sir; I understand cowmen pretty well. Have spent quite a little time with them."

"I guess they are getting ready for something."

"Line up for the hurdle race!" shouted the ranch foreman, who was acting as master of ceremonies. "Half mile down and back with a hurdle every quarter!"

"Here's where you see some real fun," announced Mr. Jessup, nodding significantly to Tad and Tom Phipps. "Are you boys going into this?"

"Guess we might as well. Will these ponies take hurdles, Mr. Phipps?"

"You try them and see. Every one trained down to the ground."

"That's not the way I want to go," laughed Tad. "I want to stay above it while I'm riding."

Ned Rector already was tightening his saddle girths preparatory to entering, so Tad hurried to his own mount to get ready for the contest.

When the contestants had finally lined up, the Pony Rider Boys were surprised to observe that Stacy Brown had ridden down to the scratch with the others. He was sitting on his pony as solemn as an owl, industriously munching a sandwich that he had made for himself.

"You'll break your neck. You'd better keep out of this," advised Ned Rector.

"Better look out for your own neck," retorted Stacy. "Guess I know how to ride as well as the rest of you."

"All right, it's not my lookout. Remember I gave you good advice," was Ned's parting admonition.

Stacy's pony was a glossy black, the only one of that color among the contestants, and between pony and boy the cowmen were undecided as to which was the most conspicuous.

"At the second shot of the pistol you will start," announced the foreman. "All ready for the first?"

"Yes!" roared the impatient riders.

The foreman pulled the trigger and the ponies began to dance about.

Bang!

"Whoop-e-e-e!" yelled the riders, digging in the rowels of their spurs.

A dozen ponies fairly leaped into the air under the prod of spur and quirt. Away they dashed enveloped in a cloud of dust.

"They're off!" roared the crowd.

Stacy, still clinging to his sandwich, was well up with the leaders of the bunch when they got away. He was riding with elbows up to a level with his shoulders, one hand grasping reins and quirt, the other holding the sandwich to his mouth.

The spectators shouted with laughter at the sight.

"There goes somebody!" cried Walter.

One of the ponies had fouled the first hurdle and gone down, plowing the dust with its nose, while the cowboy made a fairly graceful dive through the air, landing on his head and shoulders. The riders directly behind him were obliged to hurdle pony and rider, which they did without mishap to either. Stacy, fortunately was ahead, else he too might have come a cropper.

This left a field of eleven, all of whom were bunched, their mounts almost rubbing sides. By this time the dust cloud was so dense that the spectators were able to make nothing at all of what was going on at the other end of the course.

"I hope the youngsters are all right," said Phipps a little anxiously, for the race was one of the roughest he had ever seen, and then the young miner was not much of a horseman, which made the contest seem much more hazardous to him than it really was.

"They're coming back," shouted a voice.

The turn had been made, but at the expense of two riders, whose mounts, less sure footed than the rest, had gone down in the sharp whirl for the home stretch.

The prize in this contest was to be a handsome telescope repeating rifle, and the rivalry for it was keen. The battle would be a stern one, and it was a foregone conclusion that the best horse would win.

Stacy Brown had not leaned far enough in at the turn, his saddle girth slipping a little as a result. He felt the saddle give a little beneath him, but did not realize what had happened until the pony had straightened away on the home stretch. The saddle then slipped still further under the weight of the rider.