Down there on the levels the sun glared fiercely at midday, but along toward night refreshing breezes drifted through the Canyon, making the evenings cool and delightful.  But there were drawbacks.  There were snakes and insects in this almost tropical lower land.  The boys were not greatly disturbed over these things.  By this time they were pretty familiar with insects and reptiles, for it will be remembered that they had spent much time in the wilder places of their native country.

For the first twenty-four hours of their stay in “Camp Butler,” as they had named their base in honor of Tad himself, they did little more than make short excursions out into the adjoining canyons.  The Professor embraced the opportunity to indulge in some scientific researches into the geology of the Canyon, on which in the evening he was wont to dwell at length in language that none of the boys understood.  But they listened patiently, for they were very fond of this grizzled old traveler who had now been their companion for so long.

The third night the dogs appeared restless.  They lay at the end of their leashes growling and whipping their tails angrily.

“What is the matter with the dogs?” demanded Tad Butler.

“I think they must have fleas,” decided Chunky wisely.

“No, it isn’t fleas,” said Dad, who had been observing them for the past few minutes.  “It’s my opinion that there’s game hereabouts.”

“Deer?” questioned Ned.

“No.  More likely it’s something that is after the deer.”

“Lions?” asked Tad.

“I reckon.”

“Have you seen any signs of them?”

“What you might call a sign,” Nance nodded.  “I found, up in Mystic Canyon this afternoon, all that was left of a deer.  The lions had killed it and stripped all the best flesh from the deer.  So it’s plain enough that the cats are hanging around.  I thought we’d come up with some of them down here.”

“Wow for the king of beasts!” shouted Chunky, throwing up his sombrero.

“Nothing like a king,” retorted Jim Nance.  “The mountain lion isn’t in any class with African lions.  The lion hereabouts is only a part as big.  A king—–­this mountain lion of ours?  You’d better call the beast a dirty savage, and be satisfied with that.”

“But we’re going to go after some of them, aren’t we?” asked Ned.

“Surely,” nodded Nance.

“When?” pressed Walter.

“Is it safe?” the more prudent Professor Zepplin wanted to know.

“Safe?” repeated Jim Nance.  “Well, when it comes to that, nothing down in this country can be called exactly safe.  All sorts of trouble can be had around here for the asking.  But I reckon that these young gentlemen will know pretty well how to keep themselves reasonably safe—–­all except Mr. Brown, who’ll bear some watching.”

Even long after they had turned in that night the boys kept on talking about the coming hunts of the next few days.  They fairly dreamed lions.  In the morning the hunt was the first thing they thought of as they ran to wash up for breakfast.  In the near distance could be heard the baying of hounds, for Dad’s dogs were no longer chained up.