Chunky opened one eye and winked knowingly at Tad.

“Oh, you rascal!  You’ve made us pull until we are out of breath.  Why’d you make a dead weight of yourself?”

“Is—–­is he all right?” inquired Professor Zepplin anxiously.

“He hasn’t been hurt-----”

“Yes, I have.   I’m all bunged up—–­I’m all shot to pieces.   The—–­the
mountain blew up and-----”

“Well, are you fellows going to leave me down here all the rest of the night?” demanded the far-away voice of Ned Rector.

“Yes, you stay there.  You’re out of the wet,” answered Stacy.

“That’s a fine way to talk after I have saved your life almost at the expense of my own.”

“Pshaw!  Saved my life!  You nearly knocked it all out of me when you fell on top of me.”

“Here comes the rope, Ned,” called Tad.  “If you can help us a little you will make the haul easier for us.”

“I’ll use my feet.”

“Better take a hitch around your waist in case you should slip,” advised Butler.

Ned did so, and by bracing his feet against the side of the rock he was able to aid them not a little in their efforts to haul him to the surface.  Ned fixed Stacy with stern eye.

“Were you bluffing all the time?” he demanded.

“Was I bluffing?  Think a fellow would need to bluff when a big chump like you fell in on him?  I thought the mountain had caved in on me, but it was something softer than a mountain, I guess,” added Stacy maliciously.

“What did happen?” demanded Ned, gazing at the hole wonderingly.

“It’s one of those thin crusts,” announced the guide, examining the broken place in the lava with critical eyes, in which occupation the Professor joined.

“Yes, it was pretty crusty,” muttered Chunky.

“You see, sir, this occurs occasionally,” nodded the guide, looking up at the grizzled face of Professor Zepplin.  “One never knows in this country when the crust is going to give way and let him down.  I guess the rain must have weakened the ground.”

“And I fell in again,” growled Stacy.

“You were bound to fall in sooner or later,” answered Tad.  “Perhaps it is just as well that you fell in a soft place.”

“A soft place?” shouted Stacy.  “If you think so, just take a drop in there yourself.”

“I thought it was the softest thing I ever fell on,” grinned Rector, whereupon the laugh was on Stacy.

There was no more sleep in the camp in the crater of Sunset Peak that night.  Nor was there fire to warm the campers.  They walked about until daylight.  That morning they made a breakfast on cold biscuit and snowballs at the rim of the crater.  But as the sun came out they felt well repaid for all that they had passed through on the previous night.  Such a vista of wonderful peaks as lay before them none of the Pony Riders ever had gazed upon.

To the west lay the San Francisco Peaks, those ever-present landmarks of northern Arizona.  To the south the boys looked off over a vast area of forest and hills, while to the east in the foreground were grouped many superb cinder cones, similar to the one on which they were standing, though not nearly so high.  Lava beds, rugged and barren, reached out like fingers to the edge of the plateau as if reaching for the far-away painted desert.