Part 17 (2/2)
”Yes, I know. Well, to begin with, before I found the moccasin track I noticed that there was room to walk along by the side of the stream.
When the moon came up, not being able to sleep, for some reason--I guess it was on account of the water that made such a racket, I thought I'd look around a bit. After I got started I kept on going and going, and the further I went the less steep did the banks appeared--”
”How far did you go?” interrupted the Professor.
”I haven't the slightest idea.”
”I presume you found no great change in the topographic features of--”
Tad laughed good-naturedly.
”I was trying to get out, Professor. Finally, I found a place that looked good and after I had scrambled up some fifteen feet I discovered that I had struck a trail. It had been in use not long since. What for I cannot imagine. The rest was very easy. I reached the top of the cliff just after daylight.”
”How--how did you find your way back?” wondered Stacy.
”I followed along the ridge. After a while I saw the smoke from your camp-fire, then I hurried in and here I am.”
”You always were a lucky fellow,” laughed Ned. ”Now if that had been myself I should have been down there yet, or else in the river or whatever you call that stream down there.”
”Got anything to eat?” asked Tad. ”My appet.i.te this morning is a thing to be feared.”
”Depends upon how much the guide has eaten,” replied Walter. ”I guess you will have to lick the frying pan.”
”Yes, that's all he'll get,” added Ned. ”Any fellow who has filled up on canned peaches and the like doesn't need any more than that.”
”Professor,” continued Tad, ”I would suggest that we pack up and move along down until we come to the trail. We can all then work into the gorge leaving the ponies on top. It will be an easy matter for us to pack the stuff to the top. We'll be in good shape then. Shall we do it?”
”Yes, yes,” answered the Professor absently.
”Come on then, fellows. I'll tighten my belt and save my appet.i.te until we get something like real food to eat. Licking a frying pan won't satisfy my longings this morning. I'll pack the ponies while you are striking the tents. I--”
Tad turned, gazing at them curiously. They were strangely silent.
The lad felt instinctively that something had gone wrong, for Tad Butler was quick to catch a suggestion.
”Well, what is it all about? You are as solemn as a lot of owls at sunrise. Anything happened?”
Walter nodded.
”It's about the ponies, Master Tad,” the Professor informed him.
”The ponies? Which ponies? Are they hurt?” exclaimed the lad sharply.
”We don't know,” answered Professor Zepplin.
”Then what is the matter? Don't keep me in suspense.”
”Gone,” growled Ned dismally.
”Where?”
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