“Mr. Nance, if a man were below the horseshoe down the Canyon there, he would be able to make his way over to the Bright Angel Trail, would he not?”

“Yes.  A fellow who knew how to climb among the rocks could make it.”

“He could get right over on our own trail, could he not?”

“Sure!  But what good would that do us?”

“Couldn’t he let down ropes and get us out?”

“I reckon he could at that.”

“You don’t think we are going to be discovered here until perhaps it is too late, do you, Mr. Nance?”

“We always have hopes.  There being nothing we can do, the only thing for us is to sit down and hope.”

“And starve?  No, thank you.  Not for mine!”

“Nor mine.  It’s time we men did something,” declared Stacy pompously.

“As I have had occasion to remark before, children should be seen and not heard,” asserted Ned Rector.

“Kindly be quiet.  We are listening to Master Tad,” rebuked the Professor.  “Go ahead, Tad.”

“There isn’t much to say, except that I propose to get on the other side of the horseshoe and climb back over the rocks to our trail.  If I am fortunate enough to get there the rest will be easy and I’ll have you up in a short time.  How about it, Dad?” asked the boy lightly, as if his proposal were nothing out of the ordinary.

Dad took a few steps forward.

“How do ye propose to get across that stretch of water there to reach the other side of the horseshoe?”

“Swim it, of course.”

The guide laughed harshly.

“Swim it?  Why, kid a boat wouldn’t live in that boiling pot for two minutes.  What could a mere man hope to do against that demon?”

“It is my opinion that a man would do better for a few moments against the water than a boat would.  I think I can do it.”

“No, if anybody does that kind of a trick it will be Jim Nance.”

“Do you swim?”

“Like a chunk of marble.  Living on the plains all a fellow’s life doesn’t usually make a swimmer of him.”

“I thought so.  That makes me all the more determined to do this thing.”

“Somebody hold me or I’ll be doing it myself,” cried Chunky.

No one paid any attention to the fat boy’s remark.

“I can’t permit it, Tad,” said the Professor, with an emphatic shake of the head.  “No, you could never make it.  It would be suicide.”

“I’m going to try it,” insisted the Pony Rider.

“You most certainly are not.”

“But there is little danger.  Don’t you see I should be floating down with the current.  Almost before I knew it I should be on the other side of the horseshoe there.  Besides you would have hold of the rope.”

“Rope?” demanded Dad.

“Yes, of course.”

“Where are you going to get ropes?  They’re all up there on the mountainside.”

“We still have our lassoes.”