“Come, fellows, are you going to strike camp while I clear away the breakfast things?” called Tad.

“Let Chunky do it.  He hasn’t done a thing this morning,” cried Ned.

“Yes, I have, too.”

“What have you done?”

“I’ve done two things this morning.”

“That’s news,” grinned Walter.

“Yes, name them.  We don’t want to do you an injustice, you know,” urged Rector sarcastically.

“I made a discovery—–­I discovered that we had been basely deserted.”

“Well, that’s only one thing.  You said you had done two things,” persisted Ned.

“Then I ate my breakfast.  That’s two things.”

The boys groaned.

“He ate his breakfast.  Most remarkable,” scoffed Rector, imitating the professor’s voice and manner, whereat the professor himself grinned broadly.

Tad, giving up expecting the others to do anything, was rapidly gathering their equipment together.  The tent came down.  He divided it into sections, placing the sections in piles preparatory to forming them into bundles to be packed on the ponies.

“Have you the map, Professor?” he called.

“In my saddle bag.”

“I want to study it a minute before we start.  We don’t know anything about the trails here and we have no guide to direct us.  We’ve got to make our way the best we can.”

“We can’t get lost,” chimed in Chunky.

“Why can’t we get lost?” snapped Ned turning on the fat boy.

“Because we don’t know where we are anyway.”

“Horse sense,” laughed Tad.

“Fat-boy drivel,” jeered Ned.

“Come, come, young men.  You are not making much headway.”

Stacy dragged his pack by the rope, over to his pony, instead of carrying the bundle as he should have done, Professor Zepplin observing the boy with disapproving gaze.

“Is that the way you have been taught to pack your pony, sir?”

“No.  I’ve never been taught.  What I know I’ve had to pick up.  Nobody ever tries to teach me anything.”

Scolding, joking, having all manner of sport with one another, the Pony Rider Boys finally completed their tasks.  The ponies were loaded, the pack pony was piled high so that its head and legs were about the only parts of its anatomy visible, and the boys climbed into their saddles, Tad first having given the trail map a brief scrutiny.

They started off up the canyon.  For a little way the trail appeared to be no trail at all.  The ponies threshed through the bushes, the sharp limbs smiting the riders in the faces, making disagreeable traveling.  But the young men were used to this sort of thing.  They did not appear to mind it at all.

Reaching a higher altitude they found the trail to be fairly good.  From there they got a good view of the yellow plains below, that stretch away many miles to the northward.  To the southwest, peaks that they judged must be all of four or five thousand feet high, towered blue and hazy in the yellow light.  Birds were singing, the air was soft and balmy and a gentle breeze stirred the foliage about them lazily.