“He will fall off.  Wake him up!” commanded the professor.

“Oh, please don’t bother him.  We want to see what he will do,” begged Walter.

“I think you will see, all right,” chuckled Tad.  “You will see what you shall see, and—–­”

“There he goes!”

The pony had taken three or four more steps toward the stream.  Now its eyes were partly open.  It saw the rest of the party on the other side of the creek.

The cool water completed the awakening process for the horse.  It drank freely then started for the other side, Chunky still sleeping.  All at once the pony stepped into a deep hole in the creek.  The animal went down on its nose with a mighty splash.  Stacy shot over the disappearing head, then boy and pony vanished under the waters of Delaware Creek while the others of the party bowled with delight.

“Oh, wow!” howled Stacy, coming to the surface and making for shore with mighty splashes, coughs and chokings.  “Oh, wow!”

Walter ran down to the water’s edge, lending the unfortunate fat boy a helping hand.  The pony in the meantime had clambered up the bank and was trotting off to join its fellows.

“What—–­what—–­who did that?” demanded Stacy belligerently.

“Did what?” replied Ned.

“Who threw me in?”

“I reckon you threw yourself in,” answered Tad.

“I didn’t.”

“The pony did it for you.  Don’t be a goose,” commanded Ned.

“Yes, you went to sleep.  You’ve been asleep for the last ten miles or so,” nodded Butler.

“I’m all wet,” wailed Stacy.

“You will be dry in a few moments in this hot sun,” interposed the professor.

“I don’t want to be dry.”

“Then jump in again,” suggested Butler.  “Anyhow, you’ve missed your dinner.”

“I—–­I’ve—–­what?”

“Missed your dinner.”

Chunky’s gaze wandered from the camp fire to the dishes and provisions that already were being packed preparatory to moving on.

“I want my dinner,” he wailed.

“Dinner is finished, young man,” replied the professor severely.  “You should be on hand when meals are being served.  There is no second table in this outfit, except for good and sufficient reasons.”

“My reasons are good.  I—–­I fell in, I did.  And—–­say, why didn’t you fellows wake me up?” demanded the fat boy, a sudden suspicion entering his mind.  He began to understand that a trick had been played upon him.  “What’d you let me sleep for?”

“Because you were sleepy,” answered Ned Rector solemnly.

“That’s a mean trick.  I wouldn’t play that on a horse,” answered Stacy indignantly.

“But you did play it on a horse,” spoke up Tad.  “The horse went to sleep with you, out of sheer sympathy I should say.”

“I should think he would have.  Anything would go to sleep with Chunky on hand,” declared Ned.