This announcement caused the boys to spring up, reaching to the racks above for such of their luggage as had been stowed there.  All was bustle for the next twenty minutes.  Then the train drew into the station, the cars covered with the dust of the desert, changing the dark brown of their paint to a dirty gray.

The boys found that they had arrived at a typical western town, a tree-surrounded, mountain-shadowed, breeze-blown place set like a gem in a frame of green and gold, nestling, it seemed, at the very base of the towering peaks of the San Francisco mountains, whose three rough volcanic peaks stood silent sentinel over the little community clustered at their base.

The railroad track lined one side of the main street, while business blocks and public houses were ranged on the opposite side.  Here the garb of the Pony Riders failed to attract the same attention that it had done further east.  There were many others on the station platform whose clothes and general get-up were similar to those of the boys.

But as they descended from the sleeping car, their arms full of their belongings, each carrying a rifle in a case, they caught sight of a man who instantly claimed their attention.  He was fully sixty years old, standing straight as a tree and wearing a soft black felt hat, a white shirt and a wing collar.  From his chin, extend almost back to the ears, there stood a growth of white bristling whiskers.  As he tilted his head backward in an apparent effort to stand still more erect, the whiskers stood out almost at right angles, giving him a most ferocious appearance.

Tad felt a tug at his sleeve.  He turned to find the big eyes of Chunky Brown gazing up into his face.

“Is that the Wild Man of the Canyon?” whispered Stacy.

“I don’t know.   He looks as if he might be a Senator, or-----”

“Any of you boys know where we can find Jim Nance?” interrupted the Professor.

“I reckon we do,” drawled a cowboy.

“Well?” urged the Professor somewhat irritably.

“Wal?” answered the cowboy.

“Will you please tell us where we may find him, pardner?” spoke up Tad, observing how the land lay and wishing to head off friction.

“I reckon that’s him,” answered the cowboy, pointing to the straight, athletic figure of the old man.

Tad grinned at Chunky.

“That’s our guide, Bub.”

“He looks fierce enough to be a man eater.”

“I’m afraid of him,” whispered Stacy.  “He’s mysterious looking, too; like the Canyon.”

Professor Zepplin strode up to the old man.

“Mr. Nance, I believe.”

“Y-a-a-s,” drawled the old man.

The Professor introduced himself, then one by one called the boys up and presented them, the old man gazing keenly with twinkling, searching eyes into the face of each one presented to him.  Chunky said “ouch” when Nance squeezed his hand, then backed off.