“It’s all right, boys,” spoke up the familiar voice of Lieutenant Withem.  “I’d know this fellow in the dark as well as in the light.  I’m Withem.”

At the lieutenant’s reassuring words the Rangers—–­for the boys had stumbled upon the camp of the men of Captain McKay’s command—–­crowded forward, talking and laughing, three of them taking the horses as the party dismounted, then leading the way into the bushes and in among the rocks where the lads came upon a campfire, around which were seated five or six other Rangers.

Withem introduced the professor and his charges.  There were, besides the Lieutenant, Pete Quash, “Dippy” Orell, Cad Morgan, Bucky Moore, “Polly” Perkins and several others, all of whom were introduced in turn, the Rangers solemn as owls, making low bows, sweeping the ground with their sombreros, causing Stacy to open his eyes in wonderment.  Lieutenant Withem made the party feel at home at once.

“Just in time to have chuck with us.  You see we have our chuck wagon here.  Of course we don’t carry it wherever we go.  We usually have some central point where we make headquarters.  But we have to keep changing these headquarters for reasons you understand.”

All hands sat down to the evening meal after the men had washed up, in most instances without removing their hats.  This attracted the attention of the fat boy.

“Say, do you fellows sleep in your hats as well as wash and eat in them?” he demanded.

“Do you sleep in your skin?” retorted Dippy.

“Yes, unless it has been all skinned off from me.  When I was fighting Indians up in the Grand Canyon—–­”

“Chop it!” commanded a Ranger.  “Men have been known to meet their death for less in this country.”

“Can’t I say what I’ve got to say?” demanded the fat boy indignantly.

“Are you going to brag about yourself?” demanded Polly.

“I’m telling you, and—–­”

“Well, don’t tell us.  We don’t want to have to take you out and tie you to a tree.  Say, will you get wise to the dude with the red necktie?” scoffed the Ranger, pointing to Ned, who, in the place of the bandanna handkerchief, had put on a flowing tie of brilliant red, tying it about his neck, with the ends carelessly thrown over the left shoulder.

“Don’t you like it?” asked Ned, flushing.

“Like it?  Why, it’s the hottest thing that ever crossed the Staked Plains since the Apaches came down in—–­”

“Why don’t you look the other way then?” interjected Stacy.

“Oho!  Listen to the human monstrosity—–­the monstrosity as wide as he is long and as fresh as he is stale.  What you got to say about it, young man?” demanded Dippy, glancing at Tad Butler, who was smiling.

“I haven’t said anything yet.”

“But you’re going to?”

“I may.”

“Can we stand for any more remarks, boys?” asked Dippy.

“No, we can’t stand for any more,” chorused the men, the professor and the lieutenant being too busy with a discussion to pay any heed to what was going on about them.