After sitting about the camp fire all the evening, the Pony Rider Boys wrapped themselves in their blankets and lay down to sleep under the stars with the now gloomy walls of the Canyon towering above them, the murmur of the silvery Havasu in their ears.

CHAPTER XXIV

CONCLUSION

The night was a restful one to most of the party, except as they were aroused by the barking of the dogs at frequent intervals, perhaps scenting some prowling animal in search of food.

Chunky was awakened by Tad at an early hour.  The fat boy uttered a familiar “Oh, wow!” when he sought to get up, then lay back groaning.

“Why, what’s the matter?” demanded Butler.

“My skin’s shrunk,” moaned Stacy.  “It fits me so tight I—–­I can’t move.”

“His skin’s shrunk,” chorused the Pony Rider Boys.  “His skin is a misfit.”

“Take it back and demand a new suit if you don’t like it,” laughed Ned Rector.

“It isn’t any laughing matter.  I tell you it’s shrunk,” protested Stacy.

“All right, it will do you good.  You’ll know you’ve got a skin.  Last night you said it was all roasted off from you.”

“It was.  This is the new skin, about a billionth of an inch thick, and oh-h-h-h,” moaned the lad, struggling to his feet.  “I wish you had my skin, Ned Rector.  No, I don’t, either I—–­I wish yours were drawn as tightly as mine.”

“Come on for a run and you will feel better” cried Tad, grasping the fat boy by an arm and racing him down to the river and back, accompanied by a series of howls from Stacy.  But the limbering-up process was a success.  Stacy felt better.  He was able to do full justice to the breakfast that was served on the greasy blanket shortly afterwards.  For breakfast the white men shared their bacon with the chief, which the Indian ate, grunting appreciatively.

Before leaving, the boys bought some of the finer specimens of the Indian blankets, which they got remarkably cheap.  They decided to do up a bale of these and send them home to their folks when they reached a place where there was a railroad.  At present they were a good many miles from a railway, with little prospect even of seeing one for a matter of several weeks.

After breakfast they bade good-bye to the chief.  Chunky wanted to shake hands with Afraid Of His Face, but the chief would not permit his young buck to leave the ha-wa.  Chi-i-wa, the chief’s wife, bade them a grudging good-bye without so much as turning her head, after which the party rode away, Chunky uttering dismal groans because the saddle hurt him, for the fat boy was still very tender.

“I know what I’ll do when I get home,” he said.

“So do I,” laughed Tad.

“Well, what’ll I do, if you know so much about it?”

“Why, you will puff out your chest and strut up and down Main Street for the edification of the natives of Chillicothe,” answered Tad.