“That’s so,” agreed Ned.

“For heat alone gives life and force,” crooned the Medicine Man.

He repeated the words of his chant twice over, naming pretty much every member in the body.  It was a long process, but no one save Stacy Brown himself wearied of it.

At the conclusion of the second round of the chant, the Medicine Man, stooping over, sprinkled water upon the hot stones, reaching in under the blankets to do so.

Instantly the to-hol-woh was filled with a cloud of fierce, biting steam, that made each breath seem a breath of fire.

The Pony Rider Boys, understanding what this meant to the boy inside, unable to restrain themselves longer, gave vent to ear-splitting shouts of glee.  Even the Indians turned to gaze at them in mild surprise.

“Take me out!  I’m on fire!” yelled the fat boy lustily.

The Medicine Man thrust half a dozen other hot stones in, then sprinkled more water upon them.

“There’s one more steaming for Chunky,” sang Tad.

“There’s one more roast for him,” chanted Ned.

“We’ll roast him till he’s done,” added Walter.

The Medicine Man sprinkled on more water.

“Ow, wow!  Yeow, wow-wow!”

Anguished howls burst from the interior of the to-hol-woh.  Then something else burst.  The peak of the bath house seemed to rise right into the air.  The sides burst out, flinging the blankets in all directions.  Then a red-faced boy leaped out, and with a yell, fled on hot feet to the silvery Havasu River, where he plunged into a deep pool, the water choking down his howls of rage and pain.

The fat boy’s Russo-Turkish bath had succeeded beyond the fondest expectations of his torturers.

CHAPTER XXII

A MAGICAL CURE

Pandemonium reigned in the Havasu village for a few minutes.  The Medicine Man had been bowled over in Stacy’s projectile-like flight.  The Medicine Man leaped to his feet, eyes flashing.  Some one pointed toward the creek.  The Medicine Man leaped for the river.

Dad spoke sharply to the chief, whereupon the latter fired a volley of gutturals at the fleeing Medicine Man, who stopped so suddenly that he nearly lost his balance.

“Is the water deep in there?” cried the Professor.

“About ten feet,” answered the guide.

“He’ll drown!”

“No he won’t drown, Professor,” called Tad.  “Chunky can swim like a fish.  There he is now.”

A head popped up from the water, followed by a face almost as red as the sandstone rocks on the great cliffs glowing off there in the afternoon sun.

“Oh, wow!” bellowed Stacy chokingly, as the waters swallowed him up again.  He came up once more and struck out for the bank, up which he struggled, then began racing up and down the edge of the stream yelling: 

“I’m skinned alive!   I’m flayed, disfigured!   I’m parboiled!   Pour a
bottle of oil over me.   I tell you I’m-----”

“You’re all right.  Stop it!” commanded Tad sharply.