Tad Butler, in the meantime, had left his pony and run towards the

place where Chunky had entered the rugged, wooded stretch. Tad

finally got near enough to be able to overhear the fat boy's angry

mutterings. In fact, Butler was near enough to have roped Stacy. He

thought of doing so, at one time, but decided that it would give

Chunky too much of a fright. Then again, the fat boy might send a

bullet Tad's way in case he were to make a miss with the rope. Tad,

having stalked his prey as silently as a panther, had not even

disturbed Stacy's pony. But now Butler observed that the animal was

pricking up its ears, tossing its head as if it had scented something.

"Hang that pony. Has he discovered me?" thought Tad.

"Whoa there!" shouted Chunky. "Do you want to run away and leave me,

too? Well, if you do, you just go on. I don't ask any odds of a

horse, I don't. I can walk and I can get along without the rest of

that crowd."

A faint noise to the left of Tad called his attention sharply in that

direction. The sound was so faint that it might have been caused by

a bird alighting on a treacherous small stone. At least something

alive had caused it. The listening boy was sure of that.

Crouching lower, Tad listened, every faculty bent to the task of

determining what had caused the slight sound. Chunky's continued

talking made the task somewhat more difficult.

"I actually believe some other person is stalking him," muttered Tad.

"I wonder if Ned has followed after me? No, he wouldn't come from

that direction. He would not be likely to do so."

"Ho--ho--hum," yawned Chunky. "I suppose I might as well take a nap

while I'm waiting for something to turn up. Guess I'll tie the

critter, then stretch out on this rock. It feels nice and warm, but

it's pretty hard."

The fat boy actually did what he had suggested. After securing the

horse, he lay down on the rock, pillowing his head on his arms.

It was at about this time that Butler came to the conclusion that

some person other than one of his own party really was creeping up on

Stacy. From Tad's position he was unable to see what was happening

on the other side of the rock behind which he was crouching, so,

taking a long chance, he crept around it on all fours like an ape.

A stick snapped under a foot less than ten yards away. Tad put on a

little more speed. Perhaps some harm was intended the fat boy. If

so, Tad proposed to know about it and take a hand in the affair

himself.

Suddenly the lad discovered what had caused the disturbance, and he

nearly betrayed himself by an exclamation as he made the discovery.

There, cautiously creeping up on the drowsy fat boy, was a man. The

man's face was swollen and bloody, but the swollen eyes were fixed on

the form of Chunky Brown in a malignant stare.

"Smoky Griffin!" gasped Tad under his breath.

The bully had discovered Stacy. Perhaps the fellow had been lying in

wait for the party and had been a witness to their running away from

Brown. If so he had shown more cleverness than Tad had given him

credit for. The situation was certainly a critical one--for Stacy.

In his hand Smoky held a stone that must have weighed at least ten

pounds. It was plainly his intention to smash the stone down on the

sleeping fat boy. Tad Butler was thankful that he had thought to

play a further trick on his companion. Perhaps that very prank had

saved Stacy's life, or would save it, for Tad had already made up his

mind what he was going to do.

"I'll give Smoky a surprise for the second time today," thought

Butler, cautiously slipping his rope from his belt, straightening out

the coils wholly by the sense of touch, never for a second removing

his gaze from the face of Smoky Griffin.

Finally, having got the rope in shape for a throw, he took a light

grip on the honda, or slip knot, then stood crouched as if for a

spring.

Smoky straightened up. Tad was taking a great chance, but Chunky was

taking even greater.

The bully drew back his hand. He was not more than six feet from

where Stacy Brown lay asleep.

Suddenly the big loop of the Pony Rider Boy's lasso wriggled through

the air. Smoky's keen ears caught a sound. He started to turn, then

he uttered a yell and began clawing frantically at the nameless

terror that had pinioned his arms to his side.

With a yell of fright Smoky toppled over on his side, then rolled to

his back as Tad leaped away and began dragging and tugging at the

rope.

Then another yell was heard. This time it was the fat boy's.

"Oh, wow! Wha--what is it?" he howled.

Just then his glances caught the livid face of Smoky writhing on the

ground. Stacy did not see the rope, but he realized at once that

Griffin was there to do him harm. With another yell Stacy let go

three shots into the air.

"Yeow!" howled the fat boy.

Professor Zepplin and the other two boys heard both the shots and the

yells. Tad's little joke was working out better than they had

thought. Laughing and shouting they put spurs to their mounts and

rode at a fast gallop towards the spot where they decided Chunky had

met his surprise.

Ned was the first to reach the scene, with the Professor following

close after him, Walter Perkins and the grinning Billy Veal following

hard behind. Young Perkins brought his pony up sliding.

"What--what--" he gasped. "Professor!"

Ned was out of his saddle in a flash.

"Put up your gun!" he shouted, as Chunky began making threatening

motions with the weapon.

"That's right, Ned. Hold him!" cried Tad, as Ned threw himself upon

the fallen bully.

"What's this? What's this?" demanded the Professor, gazing

perplexedly at the sight.

"Nothing, only there were two of us planning to give Stacy a

surprise. This is our old friend, Smoky Griffin, otherwise the

fallen bully. Get up!" Smoky got sullenly to his feet.

"What is the meaning of this?" demanded the incisive voice of

Professor Zepplin.

Smoky made no reply.

"Stacy, what was this man trying to do to you?"

"I--I don't know. I--I was asleep."

"He was asleep," mocked Rector in a deep voice. "Of course he was.

He always is. I'm going to organize a first aid to the sleepy

corps."

"There won't be any corps, 'cause we'll all be patients," retorted

Stacy quickly.

Tad answered the look of inquiry in the eyes of the Professor by

explaining what had occurred.

"I believe the fellow intended to crush Stacy's head with the stone.

It is fortunate that I got here ahead of him. What do you think we

had better do with him?"

"We will talk that over, Tad. All being agreeable we will first seek

a more favorable location for camping. Is there water down in the

gully yonder, guide?"

"Nassir, yassir. Ah reckon."

"Go look for it. When you find water return here and lead us to it."

"I would a heap sight rather be led to a lemonade stream," declared

Stacy.

"You will be wanting hot and cold water on tap next," laughed Ned.

"I have them already," answered Stacy.

"You have?"

"Of course I have. I'm in hot water all the time, and there's plenty

of cold water in the stream. Say, I've got a bone to pick with you

fellows, but--I've forgotten what it's about."

Billy Veal had ridden away in search of water while the two boys were

talking. At the same time the Professor and Tad were observing the

prisoner, who had been tied to a tree, and were conversing in low

tones.

"I think we had better let him go in the morning, Professor. We shall

have to take our chances of more trouble from him. If he were wanted

by the authorities, I shouldn't be in favor of this move. As it is,

we can't bother with him."

"Yes, I agree with you. But why wait until morning?" urged the

Professor.

"Because he might hang around after dark and get into mischief. If

we send him away in the morning we shall have an opportunity to get a

good distance away from the fellow before night."

"That is good judgment," agreed Professor Zepplin. "It shall be as

you suggest. Hasn't that lazy guide returned yet, boys?"

"He is coming now, Professor," answered Walter.

"It strikes me it is about time."

"Did you find water?" called Ned.

"Nassir, yassir."

"Tad, how do you translate it?"

"He has found water," answered Butler.

"I've got it," cried Chunky. "If he'd said 'yassir, nassir,' that

would mean that he had not, wouldn't it?"

"You have solved the problem, Chunky," nodded Tad.

"Guide, lead the ponies to the place, and if the camping ground is

suitable, prepare to pitch the camp. We will join you soon."

"Yassir."

"Hey, Chops, you forgot something," called Stacy.

"Yassir?"

"No, sir, 'nassir.'"

"I think we might as well be getting over to the camping ground,

Professor," suggested Tad. "It is understood, then, that Smoky is to

remain with us until morning?"

"Yes, if you think best."

The boy walked over and untied the bully. Griffin started to walk

away. Butler laid a hand on his arm.

"Not so fast. We are not going to lose you yet awhile."

"What are you goin' t' do?"

"Going to keep you with us for a time," smiled the Pony Rider Boy.

"You ain't got no right t' hold me."

"I think you are right about that. Neither did you have any right to

interfere with us at Hunt's Corners, nor to try to shoot me, which

you surely would have done had I not taken your pistol away. If you

think we ought to let you go, why I'll do so after I have turned you

over to a sheriff. Which shall it be?" questioned Butler sweetly.

The prisoner grunted. His rage threatened to get the better of him,

though he was making strenuous efforts to control himself. Tad

motioned to the man to come along, which Smoky did, walking sullenly

by the side of the Pony Rider Boy, though he was not bound. He was

as free as ever save that he knew any attempt to run away would meet

with a quick, stern check. He had had evidence of the Pony Rider

Boy's prowess with his fists. Smoky looked enviously at the pistol

in its holster at Tad's side. The boy observed the glance in the

direction of the weapon, but made no comment.

"Keep your pistols where they won't be a temptation to Smoky,"

whispered Tad to the boys after they had reached the camping ground,

which was on a gentle slope leading down to a mountain stream. They

understood, and were on their guard from that time on.

Griffin sat sullenly watching the pitching of the camp. No one

appeared to be giving the slightest attention to him, yet he knew he

was being watched just the same.

Twenty minutes sufficed to pitch the tents, after which duffle-bags

were stowed in the peak of the triangle formed by the rear of the

tents, beds made, and all preparations completed for the night.

"How's that for record time, Smoky?" chuckled Tad, turning to the

prisoner.

"All right," grumbled Griffin.

"Come, cheer up," urged Tad. "Don't be a grouch. We don't like to

have grouches around this camp. The fat boy is our official grouch.

We can't stand more than one at a time."

"I guess I'm no more a grouch than some other folks I know of,"

protested Stacy. "Say, I know now what that bone is I want to pick

with you. Why did you fellows run away from me this afternoon?"

"Run away from you?" exclaimed Ned.

"Yes, run away from me. You needn't look so innocent. You know you

did and you did it on purpose, and you nearly got me killed.

That--that gentle soul over there was about to smash my head with a

stone. He would have done so, too, if I hadn't woke up and scared

him off with a shot or two."

"You have another guess coming."

"Do you mean to say you didn't run away from me?" demanded Stacy

indignantly.

"I haven't said. We were ready to go and we went, that's all there

is to it."

"No, that isn't all there is to it, Ned. There's some more to it,

but the other part hasn't come to pass yet," declared Chunky

significantly. "That means you, too," he added, turning to Griffin.

"I'll have something to say to you also for wanting to smash me with

a rock. I ought to take it out of you right here and now. I would

if you weren't so bunged up already. I don't like to pitch into a

helpless man."

Smoky growled long and deep. Tad signaled Stacy to keep away from

the prisoner. About half an hour later an early supper was spread.

"Come, Griffin, join us," urged the Professor.

"Don't want no supper," grunted the prisoner.

"You must eat," insisted Tad, stepping up to him. "Because we are

not good friends is no reason why you shouldn't eat. It will not

impose any obligation on you. If you want to fight right after you

have broken biscuit with us there's not the least objection in the

world to your doing so."

With an unintelligible grunt the fellow got up and dragged himself

over to the blanket on which the supper had been spread. Perhaps it

was the savory odor of the bacon and the steaming coffee that so

tantalized the prisoner as to cause him to be willing to sit down

with his enemies and eat. At least Smoky's appetite had not suffered

by his unfortunate experiences. Even Chops opened his eyes on seeing

the mountaineer stow away food. Chunky watched the fellow almost

admiringly.

After supper the prisoner was permitted to smoke by the campfire.

Tad Butler was shrewd. He hoped by this friendliness to disarm the

bully so that the fellow, when released, would go on about his own

business and give them no further trouble. Butler did not know

Griffin. His hope was vain. Revenge deep and deadly was smouldering

in the heart of the mountaineer. At that very moment he was planning

how he might get even with the boys who had so humiliated and

punished him. They would hear from Smoky Griffin again and in no

uncertain tone.

CHAPTER IX

REVENGE ALMOST AT HAND

"I'm sorry, Mr. Smoke, that we shall have to tie you tonight, but we

will make you as comfortable as possible under the circumstances.

You shall be untied in the morning, though I warn you not to play

tricks on us. We may appear easy, but you ought to know we aren't so

easy when our good nature has been abused," warned Tad as he tied the

hands and feet of the prisoner, placing the man under a blanket laid

across four stakes driven into the ground. "There, I think you will

be reasonably comfortable."

Griffin had offered no resistance to the tying. Perhaps he knew it

would be useless to do so. There were too many hard-muscled young

men about to make resistance profitable, so Smoky submitted and was

tucked in his little bed for the night.

"Is the prisoner well secured?" asked the Professor.

"I think so," answered Butler. "I will keep an occasional eye on him

during the night."

The camp was soon in slumber. Stacy Brown's breathing could be heard

clear and distinct above all other sounds. Tad from his bunk

commanded a view of the prisoner, and now and then the lad would

awaken and glance out at the man lying there, apparently asleep. But

Griffin was not asleep. He lay alternately staring at the fire and

at Tad's rifle which stood against a tree some twenty feet from where

Smoky lay bound. Leaving his rifle out there looked like carelessness

on the part of the Pony Rider Boy.

After a time Smoky began to wriggle and grunt. He was trying to free

himself of his bonds, believing that the camp was sound asleep. And

so it was, with the exception of Butler, who now lay wide awake

observing the efforts of the prisoner. Tad did not believe the

fellow would be able to free himself and was therefore amazed when

all at once Smoke threw up his hands clear of the rope that had bound

them together. Next the prisoner began tugging at the rope around

his ankles.

All this time Tad lay back with hands under his head, curiously

watching the man. Then Smoky's feet came free, but the mountaineer

did not get up at once. Instead, he lay panting and peering about

him to see if his efforts had been observed. Apparently they had not.

Smoky began creeping toward the rifle standing there against the tree,

though Butler did not appear to understand what the man was trying to

do. About this time, however, Tad got up and yawned audibly.

Griffin instantly flattened himself on the ground.

The Pony Rider Boy stepped out without even casting a look in the

mountaineer's direction and sleepily made his way to the campfire,

which he prodded listlessly, then piled on more wood until the fire

began to crackle and snap, sending a shower of sparks up into the

night air.

Smoky eyed Tad suspiciously for a moment, then began wriggling

towards the rifle against the tree. Tad, apparently unconscious of

his danger, still stood gazing dreamily into the crackling flames of

the campfire.

Griffin half raised himself and stretching forth his hands he grasped

the weapon and drew it towards him, almost hugging the gun in his

delight. At last Smoky Griffin was himself again, and his swollen

eyes narrowed as he gazed at the boy standing there before him.

A moment of hesitation followed. Suddenly the bully threw the weapon

to his shoulder and pulled the trigger.

No report came. Smoky pulled the trigger again, but with no better

result. He uttered a growl of rage. Tad turned slowly towards the

mountaineer, grinning broadly.

"After you have finished trying to shoot me, put my gun back where

you found it, if you don't mind," suggested the Pony Rider Boy easily.

"You may thank me for preventing your being a murderer. I've been

watching you all the evening. I saw you when you first began trying

to get clear of the ropes. I saw you when you started for the rifle.

That didn't worry me, for I drew the cartridges before putting the

gun there about supper time. Smoky, you've made a monkey of yourself

and you've shown what an easy mark you are. Put down that gun!" The

last words were uttered in a stern voice.

For a brief second the Bad Man hesitated, then with a growl he

clubbed the rifle and sprang for Tad Butler. A few feet only

separated them. Tad was now in greater peril than he had been when

the desperate man was drawing a deliberate bead on him. Still the

lad did not appear to be disturbed in the least.

"Don't come any nearer, Mister Man!" warned Butler in a calm voice.

Smoky Griffin found himself gazing into the muzzle of Tad Butler's

revolver. This brought the mountaineer to a quick halt, his eyes

blazing with passion. Slowly the rifle was lowered from its clubbed

position, Smoky still grasping it by the barrel.

"Put the gun back where you found it," directed Tad.

The conversation had been carried on in a low tone, so as not to

disturb the camp. Tad was still grinning. He had enjoyed the little

scene immensely, besides which he had taught the former bully of

Hunt's Corners another wholesome lesson.

"Now stand where you are, that's a good little boy. Don't try to run.

You might be stopped so suddenly that you would take a tumble. Ned!"

One call was sufficient. Ned Rector came stumbling out, rubbing his

eyes sleepily.

"Wha--what is it?"

"If you don't mind, I wish you would tie our friend here--"

"But, how did he get loose?"

"He managed it all by himself, then he tried to shoot me. I knew he

would attempt to get away. We will tie him up this time so he won't

get loose. Secure him to that tree, Ned, and tie him good and tight,

but not so tightly that it will hurt. Smoky, you sit down with your

back against that tree. You will be quite comfortable there and it

is only a few hours till daybreak now," suggested Butler.

Smoky did not obey at once. Thereupon Ned pushed him backwards

against a tree. In that instant the mountaineer's arms gripped

Rector around the waist, pinioning Ned's arms to his sides, and

though Ned struggled to free himself he might as well have tried to

wriggle from the grip of an iron vise. The boy thought his ribs were

being crushed in.

Ned did not utter a sound, but his face was red and he was struggling

desperately, while Tad stood grinning. Butler had expected this very

result. It was as excellent a lesson for Ned as had been the

previous lesson for the desperado.

Tad strolled over to them.

"Now, Smoky, you have done about enough for one night. Let go and

sit down there. You know what will be done if you don't obey

orders."

Griffin was too full of ferocious rage to obey. He was determined to

inflict all the damage that he could, on the boy in his grip. Tad

stepped quickly behind the bully. Placing a hand around over Smoky's

forehead, the other hand pressing on the mountaineer's Adam's apple,

Butler gave the head a quick backward jerk.

The fellow's grip on Ned relaxed almost instantly. He staggered back

choking and gasping, whereupon Tad thrust the ruffian from him and

leaped back out of the way of those powerful arms.

"Sit down before I put you down!" commanded the Pony Rider Boy

sternly.

"Let me at him, let me at him!" yelled Rector.

His cry aroused the others. All hands tumbled out shouting.

"What's going on here?" thundered Professor Zepplin, charging into

the scene clad only in his pajamas.

"Just a little bout with our friend," answered Tad, laughing. "Ned,

you keep your head. Get down there as I told you, Griffin!"

The fellow sank down, with a hopeless expression on his face, but his

eyes were full of menace. Tad stood guard over him while Rector with

set, angry face gave the rope several twists about Smoky's body,

finally securing the rope to the other side of the tree.

"There, I'd like to see you get away from that hitch, my slippery

friend," announced Ned.

"There's nothing to tell, Professor, except that Griffin managed to

release himself. I don't think he will try it again. He has learned

that we are not easily caught napping," said Tad.

"He is an ungrateful wretch," growled the Professor. "Griffin, I am

amazed that you should act like that after we have treated you so

kindly. We ought to turn you over to an officer. I am not sure that

we shall not do so on the morrow."

"Turn in, you people. I will hang around until morning," directed

Tad, who went to his tent and lay down. He did not wholly trust to

the prisoner's bonds, so the lad kept up his vigil until morning when

the others began to stir, after which he dozed off for a catnap.

The prisoner this time was not wholly released for his meal. His

hands were freed, but that was all. Still he ate a hearty breakfast,

after which he was brought over to the campfire while Chops was

clearing away the stuff preparatory to packing and getting under way.

"We have very little to say to you this morning, Griffin," began the

Professor, after clearing his throat, as he always did before making

an important announcement. "Where do you live?"

"None of your business."

"It is immaterial. I was merely about to suggest that you return to

that home, wherever it may be, and stay there. Be warned and keep

away from this outfit. You will get into serious difficulties if you

harass us further. We don't want to see you about our camp again

while we are on the Ridge. Tad, will you liberate the prisoner?"

Butler did so.

"You may go," he said with a wave of the hand toward the fellow's

pony, saddled and bridled ready for him close at hand, Smoky did not

even glance at them. With lowered head he climbed into his saddle,

put spurs to his mount and quickly disappeared from the scene.

CHAPTER X

BISCUIT AND MYSTERY

"There, I hope we have seen the last of that ruffian," exclaimed the

Professor as Smoky rode away.

"I am afraid we haven't, Professor," answered Tad, with a shake of

the head.

"Why--why, what makes you think that?"

"He is a vengeful man. He is already plotting to get even with us.

However, there's no use to worry about him. We will take care of him

if he comes around our outfit."

"Yes, we'll take care of Smoke," jeered Chunky. "I wonder if there

are any more like him in these parts?"

"I shouldn't be surprised," returned Tad. "You did very well in

helping to hold the other mountaineers off yesterday, Chunky. But

you spoiled it all twice."

"How?"

"By going to sleep on the job. Never go to sleep unless there is

good reason for doing so."

"There was good reason. I should say there was," protested the fat

boy.

"What was the reason?"

"I was sleepy."

"Surely, you could not ask a better reason, Tad," said the Professor

with a grim smile.

"I've nothing more to say?" laughed Tad. "That argument is

unanswerable."

Ned suggested that they get under way, so they mounted and rode away

towards Smoky Bald, that huge towering mountain, rising up into the

sky nearly seven thousand feet. The Pony Rider Boys were now

approaching what was known as "The Land of the Sky," and their

spirits were fully as high as the name. About them the country was

becoming more rugged, making progress slower and slower, but they did

not mind.

By this time it was unusual to see a human being, though at rare

intervals they came upon a mountaineer's cabin. The occupants of

such always were suspicious of the strangers, and the boys cut short

their calls with merely passing words of greeting.

For two days following the departure of the bully they had pressed on

and on. But now another disturbing factor had come up to irritate

them. Their food was most mysteriously disappearing. No matter how

many biscuit they baked, these were sure to disappear within a few

hours.

A similar state of affairs, though not to the same extent, had

existed on their way through Smoky Pass. Now it had sprung up again.

At first Tad suspected Stacy Brown and his appetite; then the guide

came in for a share of suspicion, but not a clue was the lad able to

find. He thought he had checked the losses when he ordered all the

reserve stores piled in the corner of his tent with his duffle-bag,

but the mystery still remained unsolved.

"It's my opinion that there's something going on around these

diggings," declared Chunky as they were sitting about the campfire

one evening.

"There is no doubt about that," replied Tad. "If you can find out

just what is going on you will be doing the Pony Rider Boys, as an

association, a real service."

"I had a dream last night," began Chunky.

"Did you dream that you were living in marble halls?" chuckled

Rector.

"No, I couldn't dream anything so pleasant when you were snoring in

the next tent. I've had the same dream for three nights running.

And, fellows, it was an awful dream. I know it means trouble for

someone."

"Well, what was your dream?" asked Tad.

"I don't want to hear it if it is another of your old chestnuts,"

declared Ned.

"Go on, tell it, Chunky," urged Walter.

"It was a terrible dream," replied the fat boy in a deep, thrilling

voice.

"Well, well, surely it couldn't have been any more terrible than this

suspense," interrupted Butler.

"I dreamed--I dreamed--" Stacy paused to gaze feelingly at his

companions.

"You dreamed? Yes?" reminded Rector.

"I dreamed--I dreamed I saw three blind men leading a one-eyed horse

to water."

"Oh, pooh!" scoffed Ned Rector.

"Three nights," continued Stacy, "did I dream of this nerve-racking

scene. Don't look at me like that, William Veal! That's just the

way the blind men stared at me."

"Go on," laughed Tad. "What did the three blind men and the one-eyed

horse do?"

"They went down to the creek and took a drink," crooned Stacy, gazing

steadily at the wide-eyed Chops. Chops was actually pale about the

lips. "Then--then I dreamed another--the most awful of all."

"Yes, yes?" pleaded Walter, now really worked up to a high pitch of

excitement.

"For three nights running I dreamed that I saw a black cat chasing a

three-legged rat through a field of red clover. Br-r-r-r!" The last

word came out with explosive force.

Billy Veal leaped to his feet with a yell. The Pony Rider Boys burst

into a roar of laughter, with the exception of Stacy, who sat as

solemn as an owl. Chops was trembling, for, like most of his race,

he was superstitious.

"If I might make so bold as to inquire," said Tad after quiet had

once more been restored, "why was the black cat chasing the

three-legged rat through the field of red clover?"

"The cat thought the rat had the biscuit that have been stolen from

this camp, I reckon."

This was the signal for another outburst, in which Billy Veal took no

part. The guide was too thoroughly frightened to be amused. His

superstitious nature had been strongly appealed to.

"It means that there's trouble brewing in this outfit. I shouldn't

be surprised if some one were going to die. I'm sure it will be the

villain who has been stealing our biscuit."

"No, that isn't what it means," interrupted Rector.

"What does it mean, then?" demanded Stacy.

"It means that you have been overloading your stomach for the last

three nights before turning in. I am beginning to think it was you

who stole and ate the stuff."

"You must be a--an oracle. That's it. You're one of those dream

books," retorted Chunky. "Now seeing you are an oracle, what would

it have meant had the rat been running through the clover without any

legs at all? Answer me that if you can, Mr. Dream Book!"

"Very simple. Almost childish. That would mean that instead of

eating biscuit before going to bed, you had been eating mince pie."

"You are almost human, Ned," grinned Chunky. "But you don't know a

gnome when you see one."

"A gnome?"

"Sure thing. Those were gnomes--the real spooky, spinky kind that

give you the shivers up and down your back when they're out gnoming.

Chops knows what a gnome is, don't you, Chops?"

"N-n-n-nassir, yassir," chattered the guide.

"Don't, for goodness' sake, Chunky. He'll run in a minute," begged

Butler.

"And--and that wasn't all," continued Stacy. "I heard the cat utter

a name, and the rat had a face just like--"

"What did the cat say, and--"

"The cat said, 'Meow!'" jeered Ned.

"No it didn't. The cat said 'Veal, Veal,' just as plainly as you

could imagine," nodded the speaker.

Chops fairly gasped.

"Yes, but what did the rat look like?" urged Tad.

"Well, it looked to me like a rat," answered the fat boy solemnly.

"You will all have the nightmare tonight if you don't choose a more

cheerful topic for discussion just before turning in," warned

Professor Zepplin.

"Yes, change the subject," urged Rector. "I don't want to dream of

four-legged rats and blind mice, and besides, Chops is on the verge

of nervous prostration."

Chunky got up and stretched himself. He strolled over to where Billy

stood leaning against a rock.

"The rat had your face," he whispered sharply in the ear of the guide.

Chops uttered a blood-curdling yell and with a leap cleared the

campfire and started racing for the tall timber.

[ILLUSTRATION: "There He Goes!"]

"There he goes," wailed Ned.

"After him!" shouted Tad.

"Guide! Guide! Come back here, guide!" roared the Professor. But

Chops was on fleet feet, with four shouting, yelling boys in hot

pursuit.

"That's the last we shall see of our guide," moaned the Professor,

sitting down heavily.

CHAPTER XI

AN INTERRUPTED JOURNEY

The yells of the Pony Rider Boys, instead of inducing Chops to stop

only caused him to run the faster. Stacy Brown was soon at the

tail-end of the procession. Tad was in the lead, Ned Rector close

upon his heels, with Walter Perkins a good thirty yards behind Ned.

"Stop, you ninny!" shouted Tad. "Come back here."

"N-n-nassir," floated back the voice of the guide. Chops had enough.

He was more frightened than ever before in his life. He believed

that the fat boy had really had the dream, and that trouble was

brewing for Billy Veal.

"We'll never get him," gasped Rector.

"Yes, we shall. Get your rope. We'll have him. We'll chase him all

night but we'll land him. Chops! Oh, Chops!"

"Save your breath," jeered Ned.

"I'm going to. Oh, what I won't do to that guide when I do catch

him!" gritted Tad.

"Yes, when you do."

Butler put on a fresh burst of speed, touching the ground only with

his toes, as he ran, leaving Ned still farther behind.

"Gracious, I didn't think Tad could sprint like that," gasped Rector.

"Wait for me," howled Chunky, now far to the rear.

The boys got to laughing so heartily at this that Chops gained several

rods on them, but Tad quickly closed up the gap and was soon drawing

down on Billy Veal at a killing pace. The guide was a good runner,

but he did not have the staying powers possessed by Tad Butler. Tad,

no doubt, could have run all night had such a thing been necessary,

for he was a strong, healthy boy with not an ounce of extra flesh on

his body, and his muscles were of the quality of pliant steel.

Tad now drew out to one side and a few minutes later he passed the

man they were chasing, though Veal did not know of this. The colored

man came tearing along at almost express train speed, when Tad's rope

wriggled through the air. The throw was a true one. The loop landed

fairly over the head and shoulders of Chops, was drawn taut by the

runner himself, and in the next instant Billy Veal stood pivoting on

his head on the ground.

"Gracious, I hope he hasn't broken his neck," cried Tad. "I--I

didn't think he would go down so heavily as that."

"Where is he? Where is, the guide?" shouted Ned Rector, coming up

with a splendid burst of speed, and not breathing hard at all.

"Look out, or you'll step on him," warned Tad.

"Where is he?" repeated Ned.

"Chops is standing on his head just ahead of you behind those bushes.

Get hold of him so I can let up on the rope."

With a yell of triumph, Ned threw himself on the colored man, who was

too dazed from the shock of his fall to offer much resistance.

At this juncture Walter Perkins came in on a trot, followed after an

interval of a minute or so by the shouting, puffing fat boy.

"You are to blame for this, Chunky," growled Ned, trying to be stern.

"It strikes me that you are sitting on Chops yourself. You surely

can't blame me for that," retorted Stacy.

"Here, you, get up and come back to camp with us," commanded Tad.

"Yes, Chops, the gnomes will get you out here," reminded Stacy.

"Stop it! You'll have him on the run again," rebuked Tad.

Chops looked up, wide-eyed.

"Hit jes' lak dat, fer fae'," muttered Billy. "Ah done seen dem

myself."

"There! What did I tell you?" demanded Chunky triumphantly. "He

'seen dem himself.' Did they have biscuit in their mouths, Chops?"

"Yassir, nassir. He ain't say nuffin' 'tall. He jess look lak dat."

The guide made big staring eyes, as if peering at something in a

world unseen by the rest.

"Say, quit that! You'll give me the creeps soon," declared Ned.

"Are we going to take him back to camp or must I sit on him all the

rest of the night?"

"Let him up, Ned," nodded Tad, recoiling his rope. "If you try to

run, Billy, I'll rope you again. Do you want me to rope you some

more?"

"Yassir, nassir."

Chops was shivering as he got up and started slowly back towards

camp, casting apprehensive glances at every bush he passed. A wild

yell from the bushes bordering the trail they were following nearly

sent the guide off on another sprint. He surely would have run had

not Tad grabbed him by the arm and given him a shaking.

"Stacy Brown, if you do that again you will have to answer to the

Professor. Fun is fun, but the fun's all played out of this affair.

Come along here, Billy."

Billy was marched into camp, set down by the fire, and ordered to

remain there till told to get up. The Professor tried to assume a

stern expression, but the attempt was a failure, finally ending in a

chuckle, in which Chunky, who had just arrived, joined with his

familiar "haw, haw, haw."

"Oh, stop it!" commanded Ned. "You make me think I'm back among the

Missouri mules. What are we going to do with this fellow,

Professor?"

"I'll tell you what to do with him," spoke up Chunky. "Give him a

tostie wostie--in other words, a petrified biscuit, and tuck him in

his li'l crib where the little gnomes can't tickle his feet, and

he'll be all right after he gets to sleep," suggested the fat boy

without so much as the suggestion of a smile on his face.

"Guide, you must not take the jokes of these young men seriously.

They were just fooling," began the Professor.

"They? You mean Stacy Brown," interrupted Ned.

"I wasn't fooling anyone. He saw them himself. Didn't you see the

gnomes sitting on a rock, Chops, and didn't they make faces at you

because you were running away?" persisted the fat boy.

Billy nodded weakly, moistening his lips with his tongue and

swallowing a lump in his throat. Such a hopeless expression of

fright appeared on his face that the boys, unable to contain their

mirth longer, uttered shouts of laughter, in which the dignified

Professor joined.

"You see! I told you so," nodded Stacy.

"Young man, I shall have to ask you to cease playing pranks on the

guide. We can ill afford to be without a guide in this wilderness of

trees and rocks."

"A guide?" laughed Tad.

"Yes, a guide."

"Too bad we haven't one," muttered Stacy.

"It is to you I am speaking, Master Stacy. You must not tantalize

Billy. Let him alone. Have I your promise that you will do so?"

"If I promise I have to, don't I?" questioned the fat boy.

"Certainly you do."

"Then I guess I won't promise," he replied after a brief reflection.

The Professor gave it up with a shrug of his shoulders. He asked the

guide if they should tie him up for the night or if he would lie down

and behave himself. Billy decided that he would prefer the latter,

so they left it that way. Chops was then permitted to return to his

duties, getting the camp to rights for the night, but it was observed

that he gave a nervous little jump every time he heard an unusual

sound.

"I'll bet he sees more than a black cat in his sleep tonight," Tad

confided to Rector.

"I don't care what he sees so long as he doesn't snore. And I give

you due notice that if Chunky persists in snoring as he has been

doing lately either he or I will have to sleep out in the bushes out

of sound of the camp. Why, Tad, I am on the verge of nervous

prostration from loss of sleep," declared Ned.

"You surely look it, too," replied Tad with a grin.

"If Stacy chases Chops out of camp again I am quite positive that it

will be Stacy Brown who will sleep in the bushes," resumed Ned in a

tone of voice loud enough for Stacy to hear.

"Not so that anyone will notice it, he won't," called back the fat

boy.

The night passed uneventfully. On the morrow, bright and early, the

party continued their journey into the heart of the mountains. That

day being Saturday, according to their usual practice, the Pony

Riders went into camp to remain until Monday morning. This also gave

the ponies a much-needed rest.

For this weekend stay, the tents were pitched in a deep, sombre

canyon, that reminded the boys of Bright Angel Gulch in the Grand

Canyon where they had encountered so many exciting experiences.

It was near the middle of the forenoon on Sunday when a stranger

walked into camp, moving in long, determined strides. In the crook

of his right arm he carried a rifle. The boys greeted the newcomer

pleasantly, at the same time offering him the hospitality of a cup of

coffee.

"I don't want no coffee," grunted the stranger, with a reckless

disregard for the English language. "I want a heap sight more of

you, though."

"First, may I ask who you are?" questioned Tad Butler.

"I'm not here to answer questions. I reckon you'll have to answer

some instead."

"Let's have the questions, then," smiled Tad. "But if you won't

answer questions why should you expect it of us?"

"Because I'm an officer, and I'm here on business."

"Business! What business?" blurted Stacy, jumping up. "Are you

after Chops?"

"Humph! More likely I'm after all of you," rejoined the stranger.

"But that depends."

"If you are an officer I wish you had happened along a couple of days

ago," said Tad. "We had a lot of trouble with an imitation bad man,

Smoky Griffin. Know him?"

"No. I'm not that kind of an officer."

"He's a corporal in the Home Guards," guessed Chunky.

"My man," broke in Professor Zepplin, with extreme dignity, "will

you be good enough to explain just what your business is?"

"Yes. I'm a government officer, and I've come to give you notice to

quit, and right smart at that. It's your move, and you'll have to

get up and dust out of these parts. If you don't, I'll lock you up

in jail, to start with. Then, after you've waited a few months for

the court to sit, you'll find that you have worse medicine to take.

Is that plain enough?"

"I--I don't understand your attitude," stammered Professor Zepplin.

"Mebby this will mean something to you," said the newcomer, holding

up a furry object.

"What is it?"

"Looks like the paw of the black cat that I dreamed I saw chasing the

three-legged rat through the field of red clover," declared Stacy.

Tad motioned to the fat boy to be silent.

"It is a deer's foot, isn't it?" he asked.

"You've guessed it, young man."

The thought came to some of them that perhaps they had a crazy man to

deal with. The Professor decided to humor their caller.

"Very interesting, very interesting," he nodded. "You shot him, eh?"

"I did not."

"No? Then I do not understand what particular interest attaches to

the foot."

"I reckon you would if you wanted to. You've seen it before,"

grunted the man.

"I beg to differ with you. I have not seen a deer foot, let alone

the animal belonging to it, in some months. Why do you insist upon

this?"

"Because one of your party shot the deer. You've got deer inside of

you at this particular minute and--"

Stacy rubbed his stomach and rolled his eyes.

"I wish I had," murmured the fat boy.

"Now just what do you want to say to us?" demanded the Professor,

considerably irritated.

"That you'll have to get off this Ridge right quick or it'll be the

worse for you," announced the stranger in a commanding voice.

CHAPTER XII

FACING NEW OBSTACLES

"Leave the Ridge?" cried the boys in chorus.

"Leave these mountains? Is that what you mean?" demanded the

Professor indignantly.

"I reckon that's it."

"Why so? Why should we leave here until we have finished our

journey?" interjected Tad, eyeing the man keenly.

"Because I say so. I'm not talking to you."

"But I am talking to you, sir. I am one of the interested parties,

you see, and I want to know."

"I'm from Missouri, also," spoke up Ned, stepping forward.

"I'm one of the leading citizens of that state, too. I'm not a voter,

but I can make just as much noise as any voter in the state when it

comes to the cheering," declared the fat boy, pushing his way into

the semicircle about the visitor, who was seated on a rock with his

rifle over his knees.

"Maybe you fellows think this is a joke. Anybody'd think so from the

way you act," snapped the officer.

"Far from it," replied the Professor sharply.

"Well, you've got to git, that's all, and right smart at that."

"How do we know you are an officer?" demanded Butler.

"Because I say so."

"That's no proof," declared Ned boldly.

"Your authority--what is your authority?" urged the Professor.

"I reckon this is authority enough," declared the man, tapping his

rifle significantly.

"We've got some of the same kind, several of them in fact," answered

Tad, with a good-natured laugh. "When it comes to that I think you

will find our authority fully as convincing as yours."

For the moment matters looked serious. The man's face turned red.

He shifted his weapon a little and glared at the young man who had

really uttered a challenge.

"Whether or not you are an officer I do not know," went on the

Professor. "However, I have a right to know why you make this

singular request."

"No request about it. I told you to mosey."

"But why?"

"You're on government property."

"Well, what of it?"

"You've been shooting on government property?"

"I deny it," thundered Professor Zepplin, slapping his thigh with the

flat of his hand.

"We may have been shooting, but not at game," explained Tad.

"Professor, are we on a government reservation?"

"I was not aware of the fact," was the reply, made in a half

sarcastic tone. "I'll look at the map. Go and bring it, Tad."

"Stay where you are!" commanded the officer.

"My, but he's touchy, isn't he?" wondered the fat boy. "Guess we'll

have to serve him the same way we did Chops last night, rope and sit

on him."

"What is your name?" asked Professor Zepplin, regarding the man

shrewdly.

"Never you mind about my name. Uncle Sam is a good enough name."

"Depending upon who wears it," scoffed Ned Rector.

"See here, I don't want to hear any more of your talk, not from any

of you. You're an impudent lot of youngsters, though you're old

enough to know better."

"You will kindly direct your conversation to me, my man," broke in

the Professor. "I am in charge of this party and wholly responsible

for anything they may do. In the first place, I deny that any of us

has shot any game on the Ridge. In the second place, I know of no

law that will prevent our passing over a government preserve, though

there are preserves where firearms are not permitted."

"This is one of them," interrupted the man.

"Where do the preserves end and where do they begin?" demanded Tad

shrewdly.

The mountaineer hesitated. For the moment he appeared confused.

Then he made answer.

"I reckon a few miles this side of Hunt's Corners and on to the other

side of old Smoky Bald."

"Nonsense!" exploded Butler. "I don't believe it."

"Quiet, Tad," rebuked the Professor.

"Say, you Mister Man, we don't talk business on Sunday," spoke up

Stacy. "Come around tomorrow morning and we'll talk to you during

business hours and give you all the talk you want, with a little

something else it you are looking for trouble. I guess you're

another of those bad men from Smoky Creek, and the further up you get

the worse they are."

The face of the officer turned white with anger.

"I agree with the young man," nodded the Professor. "You may call

here tomorrow morning, stranger. We shall be here until nine o'clock,

after which we shall no doubt be on our way toward Smoky Bald,

provided we do not change our minds. By that time we shall be in a

position to talk more intelligently with you and perhaps you on your

part will be able to converse more courteously. Good-day."

The Professor uttered the words with more than his usual firmness.

Always firm and decisive in his manner of speaking, the present

utterance was calculated to impress him to whom it was directed.

The supposed officer started, shifted his gun, then rose angrily.

"I haven't got time to argue here all day--"

"Nor have we," replied Professor Zepplin evenly.

"I reckon my boss will have something to say when I report how you

used a government officer."

"If you could show us any good reason why we should be ejected we

should be glad to comply with your command. As it is I do not

believe you have the least right in the world to order us from the

Ridge. If such a right existed, you wouldn't have to order us off.

We should go without being told," said Professor Zepplin.

"If ye don't keep shet I'll arrest the whole pack and parcel of ye."

"I should esteem it a favor if you would," retorted the Professor

belligerently. The boys wanted to cheer Professor Zepplin, but they

did not think that would tend to soothe the spirits of their visitor.

"I'll give ye till tomorrow morning to get off the range," declared

the man. "If you're here it will be the worse for you. I reckon I

haven't got anything more to say."

"I am glad of it. You have said quite enough already," snorted

Professor Zepplin.

Without another word the stranger got up and strode away. Tad stood

irresolute for a moment, then he skulked away on the trail of their

late visitor.

"Tad, Tad!" called the Professor. "Where are you going?"

"I'll be back in a minute. I'm just going over here a piece. Don't

worry. I may learn something," answered the boy, trotting back so

that the stranger might not hear what he was saying.

"I reckon I'll go with you," announced Ned.

But Tad merely shook his head, and disappeared around the corner of a

rock. The lad came upon their visitor much sooner than he had

expected. In fact, the Pony Rider Boy had a narrow escape from being

discovered. Had he not thrown himself flat on the ground, the

mountaineer surely would have seen him, for at the moment of

discovering the man the fellow was turning to look back.

Tad was screened by a clump of bushes, through which he was peering.

The late visitor started on; then, when he considered it safe to do

so, Tad followed. A short distance from the camp the visitor paused,

giving a low whistle. Another man rose and came forward to meet him,

much to the lad's amazement.

"Good gracious, the woods appear to be full of these fellows. I

wonder what it means?"

Tad's question was not to be answered at that moment. After holding

a brief conversation the two men walked away together. Butler saw

them mount their ponies that had been secreted in among the trees and

ride away.

"A precious pair of rascals," decided the Pony Rider Boy, hurrying

back to camp.

"Well, you came back with a whole skin, did you?" grinned Ned.

"Did you discover anything, Tad?" questioned the Professor.

"Yes, sir, I did, though I don't see that the knowledge I gained is

going to be of any great use to us."

"What is it?"

"There are two men. The man who was here met another fellow in the

clearing over yonder. They talked together a little and then rode

away. It's my opinion that something is going on in these mountains

and that it might be a good idea for us to keep a weather eye open."

"What did I tell you?" demanded Stacy.

"About what?" questioned Tad, turning to his companion.

"About the blind men and the one-eyed horse, and the black cat and

the three-legged rat," answered the fat boy triumphantly. "I knew

something was going to happen. Chops knew it, too. Those gnomes

weren't roosting on the rocks for nothing. I guess I know something

about gnomes. Look out for the black cat. He's a trouble-maker."

"We have important matters to discuss," interrupted Professor Zepplin.

"Be good enough to cease your nonsense, Stacy."

"Nonsense? Nonsense? Well, I like that. Here I give you warning of

trouble and you call it nonsense. I'd like to see any weather bureau

hit off the weather as closely as I hit off trouble."

"You cause more than you hit off," answered Tad. "Professor, what do

you make of this?"

"Nothing. I don't know what to think of it."

"Nor do I, but as I said before, it seems to me that, if that fellow

really is an officer, he must be crazy. Oh, I forgot, we were going

to look at the map."

"To be sure. You will find it in my dufflebag."

Walter ran to the bag, returning with the map, which they

straightened out on a rock, placing four small stones on the corners

to keep the map open.

"There is the southern line of the government preserves," said Tad,

pointing.

"About where are we now?" asked Rector.

"I should say about here," answered Butler, laying a finger on a dark

spot on the map.

"Here is Smoky Bald, here is the pass in which we are encamped, and

yonder is the rise of ground over which we came on our way from

Hunt's Corners. According to my reckoning, we must be a good

twenty-five or thirty miles to the south of the government line. I

guess we've got our friend now."

"He's a scoundrel!" cried the Professor.

"He is. He must be," declared Tad. "But, what have the men in mind?"

"That remains to be seen," replied the Professor. "Perhaps their

only object is to get rid of us, and perhaps--"

"Perhaps they are planning some crooked business," finished Butler.

"What have you decided to do, Professor?"

"What do you boys wish to do?"

"We don't want to be turned back if we can help it. So long as we

are convinced that the fellow is a fraud, I say let's go right along

regardless of him and his crooked business," urged Tad.

"Are you all agreed on this, boys?" demanded the Professor.

"We are," cried the Pony Rider Boys.

"Then the matter is definitely settled. We move tomorrow morning,

the same as usual, and if our friend sees fit to interfere with us we

will show him that we are well able to take care of ourselves, that

we are not tenderfeet," declared the Professor belligerently.

CHAPTER XIII

AN EXHIBITION OF SHEER PLUCK

"No, we will not break camp until nine o'clock," said the Professor

when, on the following morning, Ned proposed that they get under way

immediately after breakfast. "We promised our friend that we should

be here until that hour, you know."

"Then I think I will scout around to see if anything is doing,"

suggested Tad, who immediately hurried from camp. He returned half

an hour later with the information that there wasn't a human being

within a mile of them so far as he had been able to learn. It then

lacked an hour of nine, so the boys passed the time with packing,

joking and talking. They were not greatly troubled, nor would they

have been had they known what was before them that day.

Professor Zepplin, too, was filled with the spirit of the occasion.

The old soldier never shrank when it came to a battle, though

naturally he felt the responsibility of having four boys to look

after, even though those boys were pretty well able to take care of

themselves, as they had demonstrated on numerous occasions.

An inventory of the supplies showed that everything was accounted

for. This, Stacy declared, was because he had frightened the

three-legged rat away from camp. He said he had a worse fright in

store for it if it showed itself around that outfit again. Chops

looked very solemn at this. The fright the guide had had served to

chasten and subdue him. This was not lost on the Pony Rider Boys,

nor was the significance of it, either.

"Nine o'clock. Time to move," announced the Professor finally,

closing his watch with a snap. "We will start now. Are you ready,

boys?"

"All ready," answered the lads in chorus.

"All ready to start--something!" added Chunky.

"No, we will not start anything, my boy," rebuked the Professor.

"Stacy is quite given to slang of late," laughed Tad.

"I have observed as much," answered the Professor dryly. "I trust

you will cut out slang, young man." The Professor eyed the fat boy

sternly.

"I trust you will, too, Professor," retorted Stacy.

"I--I use slang?" demanded the Professor indignantly.

"Yes. You said I must 'cut out' slang. If that isn't slang, my

dictionary is ahead of the times," returned Stacy triumphantly.

"He has you there, Professor," chuckled Tad.

"He surely has," agreed the other boys smiling broadly.

"Young men, I admit it. I am properly rebuked, and I assure you the

offense will not be repeated. I promise to refrain from anything of

the sort in the future, and I shall expect you to do the same."

"Well, I won't promise, but I'll try," drawled Stacy. "If I promised,

honest Injun, I'd have to keep my promise. You know I don't like to

be roped with a promise. It's like being tied to a tree. A fellow

can't let himself out when he wants to."

"You'll have plenty of opportunity to let yourself out, I am thinking.

Something do--" began Tad.

"Ah--ah!" warned Chunky.

"I guess I nearly forgot myself, didn't I?" grinned Butler.

"Yes, you'll have to cut it--"

"Whoa, Chunky!" shouted Ned. "There you go again."

"Hopeless! Hopeless!" groaned Professor Zepplin. "But that's right.

Correct one another and you will soon overcome the habit. We are

forced to live a semi-barbarous life, but that is no reason why we

should forget either our manners or our English."

"We shouldn't were it not for Stacy Brown," declared Rector.

"That's right. Lay everything to me. I'm tough. I can stand it.

But I'm the prophet of this outfit; I'm a necessary encumbrance."

"Mount!" commanded Tad. "Billy, did you bring that bundle of dry

sticks for kindling the fire?"

"Nassir, yassir."

"Then, forward march!"

"Giddap, you old bundle of bones," jeered Chunky, giving his pony a

smart unexpected slap.

The pony kicked and squealed, giving Stacy a lively tussle for a few

moments.

"Why do you stir him up so?" rebuked Tad. "That isn't horsemanship.

You act like a beginner."

"He always is that way in the morning. It's his way of showing his

pleasure at having me on his back. Whoa, there, you cayuse!" shouted

the fat boy.

Stacy lost part of his pack, necessitating a halt while he got down

to repack and take a fresh hitch. Finally having arranged it to his

satisfaction the fat boy mounted. His companions had waited with

long-suffering patience, and there were sighs of relief when Stacy

was once more ready. The party moved off at a leisurely walk, for

the ground was rough and the trail not easy to follow.

A close watch was kept ahead as far as they could see, and on all

sides as well. But nothing of a disturbing nature occurred until

near noon, when Stacy, having ridden off to one side, scared a doe,

which fled through the brush making a great crashing, nearly

frightening the fat boy out of his wits.

Tad and the Professor rushed to Stacy's assistance. Their disgust

was great when they discovered the cause of the uproar. It was then

decided that Chunky must keep close to the party and try to behave

himself.

After a brief rest following the noon meal they once more mounted

their ponies and set out. They had been on their way less than an

hour when, riding out into an open space, they halted rather suddenly.

As they entered the open space two horsemen rode in on the opposite

side. The men carried rifles across their saddles, and came directly

toward the Pony Rider Boys' outfit.

"There he is!" exclaimed Tad.

"Who--who--who?" demanded Stacy.

"The black cat," answered Rector under his breath.

Professor Zepplin recognized one of the men instantly. The

Professor's lips closed firmly. One of the horsemen was the man who

had claimed to be an officer when visiting their camp and ordering

them to leave the Ridge.

"Well, I see you fellows are still here," he said mockingly as he

rode up to the outfit.

"Your eyes do not deceive you, sir," answered the Professor coldly.

"Where do you fellows reckon you are going?"

"In the first place, we are not fellows," resented Tad, his face

flushing. "In the second, we do not consider it any of your affair

where we are going."

"The young gentleman is right," added the Professor. "You have no

right to interfere with us. What do you want?"

"I want you to turn your nags about right smart and head in the other

direction. This is a preserve, and--"

"I deny it!" snapped Professor Zepplin. "It is not a preserve and

what is more I don't believe you are an officer. Will you stand

aside and permit us to go our way?"

"I will not."

"What do you propose to do?"

"I reckon I'll wait here till I see you headed t'other way."

"Then you will wait a long time," exclaimed Butler. "We are not

going to turn about. We are going straight ahead, and we are going

to keep on going until we are ready to head the other way, and--"

"I reckon you won't do nothing of the sort." The mountaineer nodded

to his companion, who started to ride around to one side of the

outfit.

Tad saw the purpose of the movement at once. They proposed to make a

flanking movement where they would have more advantage so far as

position was concerned.

"If you please, stay where you are!" commanded Tad sharply.

"What--what! You reckon to give me orders?" demanded the man

furiously.

"I'm telling you two to stay where you are if you know what's good

for you. We have had about enough of your nonsense. Professor, are

we going to stand for any more of this foolishness?" demanded Tad

heatedly.

"No, not much, Tad. But be patient for a moment. I want to talk

with this man further. Do I still understand you to persist that we

are on a government preserve?" he asked, turning to the mountaineer.

"I reckon I've told you that before and I'll tell it to you again."

"Say it as many times as you choose, sir, if it pleases you,"

answered Professor Zepplin sarcastically. "We heard you the first

time. It's getting to be an old story now."

"Well?"

"I deny that this is a preserve. I further state that in my opinion

you are a scoundrel. If you are not you will resent the accusation,

and I am ready to meet any such resentment," added the plucky

Professor, permitting one hand to drop lightly to his pistol holster.

The movement was not lost on the mountaineer. Nor was the fellow to

be deterred from carrying out his purpose. He shifted his rifle into

a more convenient position.

"It's the black cat," muttered the fat boy. "And we'll all be lame

ducks in a minute."

"Keep steady, lads," warned the Professor in a low tone.

Tad nodded, taking in his fellows in the same nod as indicating that

they were to take no action until ordered to do so.

"Professor, I'm going on," announced Butler. "We may stand here all

day arguing at the present rate."

With that Tad clucked to his pony and started, picking his way

through the growth in the open space.

"You stop where you are!" commanded the mountaineer.

"You stop me if you dare," retorted the Pony Rider Boy. "Come along,

Professor."

Instead the Professor sat grimly in his saddle, eyeing the

mountaineer sternly. The latter half raised his rifle, bringing the

muzzle to bear on the advancing Tad.

"Oh, fudge! Put that gun back in your boot!" scoffed Butler. "You

know you don't dare to use it. You know very well that you would get

the worst of it if you dared to pull the trigger."

"Are you going back?" roared the mountaineer.

"No, I'm going forward," answered Tad, putting spur to his pony and

starting at a jog trot. He was headed directly towards the

mountaineer, and the latter's pony took a step aside in order to

prevent a collision. The muzzle of the mountaineer's rifle almost

grazed Butler's sleeve as he trotted past the man who had threatened

to shoot him.

"Come on, fellows. Are you going to camp there in your saddles?"

For answer the Professor and the three lads started to follow their

companion. It was at this juncture that the mountaineer's companion

took a hand in the affair and changed the situation instantly into a

much more serious one. Up to this time Tad's sheer grit had overcome

the desperate purpose of the alleged officer. The intervention of

the other man had put a new complexion on the affair.

CHAPTER XIV

THE PROFESSOR TAKES A HAND

"Make 'em dance!" shouted the second man.

Two revolvers banged. Tad's pony leaped up into the air, for the two

shots had been fired right under the pony's hind feet. Ere the lad

could subdue the little animal two more shots had landed under the

fetlocks of the spirited animal.

"Stop that!" thundered the Professor.

"Don't be alarmed, Professor. They are only bluffing," called Tad.

"I'll take care of these gentlemen when I get my pony subdued."

Bang, bang!

Two bullets fanned the feet of Professor Zepplin's mount. This was

more than the old fighter could endure. He whipped out his own

revolver and began peppering the ground under the feet of the

mountaineers' horses. It was the turn of the assailants' animals to

cut up now. And they did, threatening to unhorse their riders.

At the moment when the Professor let go his bullets the supposed

officer was about to fire another shot under Professor Zepplin's

mount. But the pony leaping, spoiled the mountaineer's aim. One of

his shots bored a hole through the crown of the Professor's hat. A

bullet from the Professor's revolver fanned the cheek of the

mountaineer.

"Hold your fire!" shouted Tad to his companions.

The mountaineer, not waiting to reload, began tugging at his other

weapon. Tad drove his pony straight at the man who, by this time,

was leveling the pistol at Professor Zepplin. The Pony Rider Boy hit

the weapon with his quirt. The bullet went high above the head of

its intended victim. The second swing of the quirt was even more of

a surprise to the mountaineer than had been the first. The quirt

landed on the fellow's cheek with such force as to lay it open and

draw blood.

Before the man could recover, Tad Butler had fastened upon his

collar, and the fellow was jerked from his saddle and landed heavily

on the hard ground.

"Cover the other man!" shouted Tad.

Four guns were pointed at the other mountaineer, who was so dazed

over the sudden and unexpected turn of affairs that he seemed to have

lost power of action of any sort.

In the meantime Butler had quickly disarmed the man whom he had so

cleverly unhorsed, taking possession of his weapons and throwing them

away.

The lad stepped quickly to the still mounted rider and walking right

up beside him stretched up a hand.

"Give me that pistol!" commanded the lad.

The horseman hesitated. The boys held their breath. They expected

to see Tad Butler shot where he stood. Nothing of the sort occurred.

The man glanced quickly at the menacing weapons of the Pony Rider

Boys, down into the resolute, fearless face of Tad Butler, then

shoved the weapon, muzzle first, into Butler's face.

Tad didn't even wink.

"The other end to, if you please," he warned.

With a grunt the horseman turned the gun about and threw it rather

than handed it to the victor.

"Now jerk that rifle out of your boot and drop it on the other side

of your horse. Be quick. There will be some real shooting here if

you dilly-dally any longer. We've stood all we're going to take from

you ruffians."

The Pony Rider Boys gave a yell as the mountaineer's weapon dropped

to the ground. By this time the supposed officer had scrambled to

his feet. He was white with rage. He started for the weapons that

Tad had taken from him.

"Steady, my friend!" warned the Professor. "This weapon in my hand

might--might, you understand--go off unexpectedly. Right about face

and get into your saddle. Mount!"

"I'll have the law on you!" roared the defeated mountaineer.

"Then why don't you? You say you are the law. Take us!"

"Get out of here, both of you, and don't you dare show your faces

again," commanded Butler.

"And before you leave," added the Professor, "let me say that at the

first opportunity I'll have the sheriff on your trail. Now go!"

With the howls of the delighted Pony Rider Boys ringing in their ears

the two mountaineers rode away as fast as they could drive their ponies.

"Now where's your black cat?" demanded Tad with a grin.

"Oh, he's chasing a two-legged rat through the chaparral," answered

the fat boy carelessly.

Professor Zepplin wiped the perspiration from his forehead with a

savage swish of the handkerchief.

"The scoundrels!" he exclaimed, making a strong effort to control

himself. "The scoundrels!"

"I agree with you, Professor," nodded Tad.

"It's my opinion that we had better get out of this country,"

declared Walter Perkins.

"We shall not. I am going on now, even if they bring in a regiment

to put us out!" fairly shouted Professor Zepplin.

"Hurrah for the Professor! Three cheers for the Professor!" cried

Ned. The boys gave three ringing cheers and a tiger.

"That will do, boys. We will be on our way now," said the Professor,

having regained his composure.

"Are you going to leave the weapons of those men here, Tad?" asked

Walter.

"Yes, but I'm going to fix them so they won't be of much use to their

owners," replied Tad.

The lad, after drawing the charges from the guns, hammered them over

a rock until the barrels of the rifles were bent and twisted and the

butts broken, rendering the weapons utterly useless. He then took

apart the revolvers and after damaging the parts so that the pistols

could not be used heaped the remains of the mountaineers' arsenal on

the rock over which he had broken them.

"I guess those guns won't do any damage," grinned the Pony Rider Boy.

"I'm ready for the hike now, fellows."

The hike began at once. Even Chops, who had fled at the first

indication of trouble, now came out from his hiding place and,

mounting his horse, joined the procession.

"I reckon we've given those fellows a scare that will last them for a

time," announced Tad, after they had traveled a short distance from

the scene of the conflict. "But it was only a near fight after all.

They hoped to frighten us. I don't believe they intended to do us

harm."

"Yes, and I am surprised at you, Professor," reproved Stacy.

"Why?"

"I never knew you were such a savage. Why, if we hadn't restrained

you, you would have hurt somebody. Don't ever let me hear you

advising me to control my temper."

The Professor interrupted with an exclamation of disgust.

"I wish I knew what is in the wind," reflected Tad. "However, I

don't suppose we shall know the motive for this attack. If ever we

do you will see that it is some piece of rascality."

"I am of the same opinion," agreed Professor Zepplin. "I wish we

knew where to find a sheriff or a constable, or whatever they may

call them in this region."

"Why don't you get a telephone?" suggested Chunky.

The boys jeered.

"Yes, why don't we?" demanded Ned. "Just the very thing! Professor,

if you don't mind I'll run over and call up the sheriff and--"

"Tell him you've discovered the black cat," finished Stacy.

"Br-r-r!" said the fat boy, chancing to catch the eye of Billy Veal.

Billy exhibited signs of a panic.

"Let the guide alone," commanded the Professor. "We have had quite

enough trouble resulting from your pranks."

"That's right, lay it all to me. I can stand it. That's what you

have me along for--to take the blame for everything else that the

rest of you don't want to stand for."

"Oh, pooh! Can't you take a joke?" laughed Ned, riding up and

slapping Stacy on the back. "You know we are only taking advantage

of your giving us a chance to have fun with you. This outfit would

be tame as fishing in a washtub if it weren't for you, Stacy Chunky

Brown."

Chunky regarded Rector with round eyes.

"Do you mean that, Ned Rector?"

"Of course I do."

"Boo-hoo!" mocked the fat boy. "That's the first kind wor-r-d I've

had since I left my happy home in Chillicothe. Give me your kind old

hand, Ned Rector. May I never hold a dirtier one!"

"There! See! You won't let me be good to you. Remember, I tried to

make amends for a lot of things I've said to and about you, but you

wouldn't let me. This is the last time I try to make up. Do your

worst."

"I will," agreed Chunky solemnly.

"You mean you have," called Tad.

"No, I mean I will."

"All right, only for goodness' sake don't try it on me."

"There are indications of gold here!" The Professor's voice was calm

and analytical.

"What?" shouted the boys.

Professor Zepplin was leaning from his saddle, keenly scrutinizing

the rocks at the side of the trail.

"I said, there are indications of gold in the quartz rock here--"

"Gold! Gold! Lead me to it," shouted Stacy. "I need some right

now. Show it to me!"

"Kindly curb your emotions, Stacy," rebuked the Professor, eyeing the

fat boy sternly.

"I need that gold," insisted Master Brown, unabashed.

"Please hand it to him, Professor," urged Tad. "Then Stacy will be

able to pay what he owes me."

"Always that reminder of debt!" snorted Chunky indignantly. "What

does a debt amount to between friends?"

"That isn't a very honest view to take, Stacy," teased Butler,

"Honest?" sputtered Chunky. "Tad Butler, I'm honest, and you know

it! I owe you a few dimes, and I'd sooner owe them to you all my

life than cheat you out of the money."

But Tad wasn't listening. He was off his pony now, bending near the

Professor, and listening intently to what that scientific gentleman

had to say of the gold signs.

"As to whether there is gold enough here to amount to what miners

call 'pay dirt,'" Professor Zepplin continued, "I don't care to say

just yet. Gold is plentiful in these mountains, yet there is rarely

enough of it found in one place to pay for the trouble of getting

it."

"Show me the gold," pleaded Chunky.

"Here is color," replied the Professor, resting a fingertip on a

dull yellowish streak.

"I don't see the gold," said Stacy, after a hard stare.

"You're not used to the sight," jibed Tad. "Now, Walter's father is

a banker, and I'll wager Walter has seen a lot of it at the bank."

"Only a few bushels of it at a time," said Walter dryly. "Of course

a bushel of gold is a tame sight."

"That's enough! That's enough! I can't think in such large amounts.

Pints are about as far as I can go when it comes to gold," retorted

Stacy.

"Pennies, you mean," suggested Ned mischievously.

Chunky gave him a withering glance, then turned his attention to what

the Professor was saying. The Professor was chipping away at the

rock with his little geological hammer, carefully selecting samples

of the ore, which he tucked in his coat pocket for future examination.

"Guide, do you think you would be able to lead us to this spot again

were we desirous of returning here?"

"Nassir, yassir."

"He means that he could," interpreted Butler. "If he couldn't I

could. I can follow any trail that I have been over. Is it so

interesting as all that, Professor?"

"Mind you, I am not saying that it is. After I have made a test I

shall be in better position to answer that question. Guide, has

anyone, to your knowledge, discovered gold hereabouts?"

"Yassir; Ah doan know. Ah nebbah found no gold heah--nebbah found no

gold nowhere. Nassir."

The boys shouted.

"He is just like Chunky. Pennies are his gait," scoffed Ned.

"I thought we'd agreed to cut--to stop using slang," reminded Stacy.

"Ned, Stacy is right. He has properly rebuked you this time,"

laughed Tad.

"Yes, sir. He did catch me napping, didn't he?"

"There he goes again, Professor," shouted Chunky.

"Well, I am not so sure. One would, indeed, have to draw the line

very finely to class 'catch me napping' as a slang expression. As a

matter of fact, it may be so, but I should hardly go so far as to

characterize it as such," differed Professor Zepplin.

Ned winked at Stacy, but the fat boy, holding his chin high,

pretended not to see the wink.

So interested was the Professor in his find that he decided to make

camp for the night in that vicinity. Tad and Walter were sent out to

choose a suitable site for pitching the tents. They found an ideal

spot by a trickling stream of water that oozed from a crevice in the

rocks, falling into a natural rocky bowl, almost if the bowl had been

hewn to hold the sparkling fluid. Of course Tad saw at once that the

water had worn away the rock, thus forming the bowl. Many years had

been required to wear away the stone, all of which set Tad Butler to

thinking over the wonders of time as well as those of nature.

They pitched their camp there that night. But the night was not

destined to pass without some further excitement. Excitement had

come to be almost a necessary part of the daily routine of the Pony

Rider Boys, and they counted that day a dull one that held no thrills.

CHAPTER XV

THE GHOST OF THE TULIP GLADE

A large number of varieties of the trees of the Blue Ridge region

were to be seen from their camping ground of that night. There were

yellow and gray birch, hickory, the bull bay, and best of all, the

giant tulip tree, one of the largest and most beautiful of the trees

in all the great Ridge country.

It was in a lane of tulip trees that the camp of the Pony Rider Boys

was pitched. The sky being overcast, Tad had put up a tent for the

guide while Chops was engaged in setting the camp to rights in other

directions. This tent was located next to the one occupied by Stacy

and Walter Perkins. Stacy regarded the arrangements with a satisfied

grin, which Tad shrewdly interpreted.

"Look here, Chunky, don't you try to play tricks on that poor guide

tonight," warned Butler.

"Poor fellah!" mocked Stacy, "What am I going to do if I dream of

blind horses and black cats?"

"Get up and stick your head in the spring. That will wake you up."

"I guess I'd be awake before I got to the spring. That isn't a joke,

Tad. That's just an imitation of a joke."

"Don't you dare stick your head in the spring," admonished Ned. "I

have to drink that water."

"So do the horses," retorted Stacy. "You haven't heard them find any

fault, have you?"

"That's a fact, I haven't," admitted Rector sarcastically.

"Perhaps that is because the horses hadn't thought of it in that

light," suggested Walter.

"Great head, great head," cried Stacy. "But confidentially, Tad."

"Yes?"

"We've missed some more biscuit," whispered the fat boy.

"How many?"

"Twenty since breakfast."

"Didn't we eat them for dinner?"

"Not a bisc."

"Hm-m! You are quite sure you didn't help yourself?" questioned Tad

quizzically.

"Help myself? Help myself?" demanded Chunky indignantly. "Do I look

as if I had twenty biscuit inside of me?"

"I can't answer that question," laughed Tad. "But to return to what

I was saying, are you going to behave yourself tonight?"

"About what?"

"About frightening Chops," insisted Tad.

"I can't promise anything about my dreams. If I dream I can't help

that, can I?" demanded the fat boy.

"I'll tell you how to help it," spoke up Rector. "Go to bed on an

empty stomach. If you will do that, I promise you that you won't

dream a single dream."

"I just love to dream," murmured Stacy, twiddling his thumbs and

gazing soulfully up to the tops of the great tulip trees.

The Professor interrupted at this juncture to say that he thought

they should post a guard that night lest the mountaineers come back.

Tad said he had a plan that he thought would answer fully as well.

His plan, as explained to his companions, was to splice their ropes

and draw them around trees close to the camp, placing the rope about

a foot above the ground.

"Hm-m-m-m!" reflected the Professor.

"In the darkness the rope would not be discovered, and one trying to

get into camp would surely trip over it," further explained Butler.

"This, you understand, would make a racket that would awaken the

camp."

"Excellent! Excellent!" approved the Professor, rubbing his palms

together enthusiastically. "I shouldn't be at all surprised to hear

that one day you had invented something really worth while."

"Try your skill on inventing an appetite regulator," suggested Ned.

"You could try it on Chunky."

"No you don't," retorted Stacy indignantly. "You don't try

experiments on my food-consuming machinery. It works quite well

enough as it is, though I shouldn't mind if it had a little greater

capacity."

No one laughed, though a pained expression might have been observed

on the faces of three Pony Rider Boys.

"If you had thought of the rope plan earlier, it might have saved

some of us from sleepless nights," declared the Professor. "What a

surprise it would be to an intruder were he literally to fall into

our camp headfirst."

"Haw, haw, haw!" roared Chunky. "Wha--what's the matter? Wasn't it

time to laugh?" he demanded, observing the eyes of the Professor

fixed reprovingly upon him.

"Yes. A most excellent plan," continued the Professor, ignoring

Stacy's flippant remark.

"I'll fix it up right away," said Tad. "Pass over your ropes,

fellows. If we rope anyone tonight it will be by his feet rather

than over his head."

The ropes were quickly spliced and put in place, forming an almost

invisible barrier about the camp. After Tad had finished his task,

Stacy fell over the rope to test it, bringing down upon him a torrent

of rebuke, for he had nearly pulled the barrier down.

"Don't you dare do that again," warned Tad. "I don't propose to have

my work spoiled just to please your curiosity."

"Pshaw! Wasn't the rope put there to fall over?" demanded the fat

boy.

"Yes. Of course, but--"

"Then, what are you growling about?"

"Oh, nothing," answered Butler hopelessly.

The Professor shook his head as if argument were a sheer waste of

time.

It was quite late when the last of the boys turned in that night, for

there was much to discuss, much to wonder at in the strange actions

of the mountaineer who had ordered them from the Ridge.

During the talk Chunky went to sleep by the fire. He was awakened

suddenly when Ned, who had gone to the spring for a cup of water,

poured some of the almost ice-cold water into the fat boy's open

shirt front at the neck. Chunky leaped up, uttering a howl, and

bowling over the Professor who sat close beside him. For a few

moments there was no end of excitement, which finally came to a

finish when Stacy started off for his bunk in high dudgeon.

Tad sat regarding the fat boy with twinkling eyes. Tad had something

in mind. Mischief was brewing when that look appeared in his eyes.

Soon after that he turned in, followed immediately by the other

members of the party.

As the hours drew on, the campfire died down to a glowing heap of

embers and coals, now and then starting into a sputter and a crackle

as some charred piece of wood blazed up and burned briskly for a

minute or two. Inside a tent one boy lay with half closed eyes

gazing thoughtfully at the fire. After a time he got up cautiously

and peered out. Being satisfied that all were asleep, he stole into

the adjoining tent with a rope in his hand. Soon afterwards he

slipped out and entered another tent, after which he went back to his

own tent.

Once more the camp settled down to silence. The fire burned lower

and lower until the camp was almost in darkness.

Suddenly a figure all in white appeared at the entrance to the tent

occupied by Stacy Brown.

"'Ware the black cat!" it said in a deep sepulchral voice. "'Ware,

'ware the--"

"Wha-wha-wha-wha-what!" gasped Stacy Brown, sitting up suddenly,

gazing wide-eyed at the apparition at the tent entrance.

"'Ware the black cat!"

Just then there was a flash and a report. A gun was fired. It

seemed as if the flash and the report had come right out of the top

of the head of the ghostly figure.

With a wild yell of terror Stacy Brown leaped from his bunk. Almost

as soon as he rose, his feet were jerked violently from under him and

he flattened out on the ground.

"I'm shot, I'm shot!" he yelled, starting from the door.

At about the same instant Chops, who had sprung up at the first yell

of alarm, also measured his length on the ground. His feet had gone

out from under him much after the same manner as had Chunky's. Chops

also plunged for the door, howling with terror.

Then a strange thing occurred. Both the tent occupied by Stacy Brown

and that used by the guide began performing strange antics. All at

once both tents collapsed. Walter Perkins was under one of them.

Walter's howls were now added to the general din.

Chunky had managed to stagger outside. So had Chops; but the tents,

now down, kept bobbing as if imbued with life.

"Ghost! Ghost!" yelled Chunky.

"Yi-i-i-i--yah!" screamed the frightened guide. Chops's yell was cut

short by another fall. At the same instant Stacy Brown again went

down.

By this time the Professor had charged upon the scene. So had Ned

Rector. Walter Perkins and Tad Butler were crawling out from under

their collapsed tent, Walter frightened, Tad laughing.

Professor Zepplin, grasping his revolver, was glaring about for

something at which to shoot. He saw only Stacy Brown and the guide

performing strange antics. The Professor threw some dry wood on the

coals, then roared out a demand to know what had happened.

"I'm shot again! I'm shot," bellowed the fat boy, making a spring

for the Professor's protection. Stacy fell short by several feet,

landing flat on his face on the ground. Billy Veal, who had started

to run in an opposite direction, went down also.

The camp was now in a great uproar. Everybody was shouting and

gesticulating. The Professor excitedly stirred the fire, then danced

from one side of the camp to the other. Stacy and Chops stumbled

about, falling on their faces almost as fast as they could get up.

The Professor in his excitement backed over the rope that Tad had

strung about the camp earlier in the evening. He landed in a thorn

bush, which, in view of the fact that he was clad only in his pajamas,

did considerable execution to the Professor's skin.

Nothing like this had ever occurred to interrupt a night's rest for

the Pony Rider Boys.

"Stop it!" roared the Professor, when, after extricating himself from

the thorn bush, he succeeded in grasping Chunky by one shoulder.

Stacy was jerked from the grasp of the amazed Professor as if he were

at one end of a huge rubber band that had sprung back. How the fat

boy did yell!

Almost at the beginning of the trouble a figure had darted from the

camp and plunged over the guard rope. Then, hastily scrambling to

its feet, darted away into the shadows.

The fire had now blazed up so that the camp showed plainly. Chunky

and the guide kept falling. The way their feet went out from under

them caused the others to roar with laughter though they did not

understand the cause at all.

Suddenly, Ned Rector let out a yell.

"Look! Oh, look!" he howled.

CHAPTER XVI

A MYSTERIOUS NIGHT PROWLER

Professor Zepplin, realizing that Ned Rector had made a discovery,

began peering from one to the other of the pair who were indulging in

such strange antics.

"Stop that nonsense, I say!" he commanded.

"I--I can't," yelled Stacy.

"Guide, come here! I demand that you cease this foolishness."

"Nassir, yassir."

Chops was willing to stop. He was willing to obey orders, and he did

so as far as possible. The guide had started to walk toward the

Professor when suddenly he was jerked prone on his face.

Professor Zepplin had observed something in the light of the campfire,

however. He strode forward and threw himself upon the fallen Chops,

to the great delight of the Pony Rider Boys.

"Hm-m-m! I see," observed the Professor. "A rope tied to your ankle,

eh?"

"Yassir, yassir."

"Stacy, are you tied by the ankle also?" demanded the Professor.

"Yes, I'm hobbled for keeps," answered the fat boy. "I'd like to

know who played this measly trick on me. Am I tied to Chops,

Professor?"

"It would appear that you are. Remove the rope. Whose rope is

that?"

Tad examined the line with which the two had been tied, with a grave

face.

"It is your rope, Professor. Surely, you didn't do anything like

this?" questioned Tad.