CHAPTER II

 In the Zuni foothills

A sudden wail from the guide attracted the attention of the party to him at once.  “Now what’s the matter?” demanded Tad, hurrying to him.

The guide had thrown himself prone upon the ground and was groaning as if in great agony, offering no reply to the question.

“Are you sick?”

“Si, si, señor,” moaned Juan.

“Where?”

“Estomago—­ mucho malo.”

“Your stomach?”

“He’s got a pain under his apron,” diagnosed Stacy solemnly.

“Been working too hard,” suggested Ned.

In the meantime the guide was rolling and twisting on the ground, glancing appealingly from one to the other of them.

“Professor, hadn’t you better fetch your medicine case and dose him up?” asked Tad.

“Yes, I’ll attend to him.”

“Give him a good dose while you are about it,” urged Ned.  “Something that will cure his laziness at the same time.”

The Professor brought his case; then, remembering something else in his kit that he wanted, he laid the case down and hurried back to his tent.  However, Stacy opened the case, selecting a bottle, apparently at random, drew the cork and held the bottle under Juan’s nose.

“Smell of this, my son.  It’ll cure your estomago on the run.”

“Be careful, Chunky, what are you doing there?” warned Tad.  “You shouldn’t fool with the medicines.  You—­”

His further remarks were cut short by a sudden yell of terror and pain from Juan.

The guide leaped to his feet choking, gasping, while the tears ran down his cheeks as he danced about as if suddenly bereft of his senses.

“Now you’ve gone and done it,” growled Ned.  “He never moved so fast in his life, I’ll wager.”

Juan was running in a circle now, shrieking and moaning.  Professor Zepplin approached them in a series of leaps.  He could not imagine what new disaster had overtaken the lazy Mexican.

“Here, here, here, what’s the trouble now?” He demanded sternly.  “Stop that howling!”

“Chunky’s been prescribing for your patient in your absence,” Ned informed him.

The Professor grabbed the wild guide by the collar, giving him a vigorous shake.  When he released his grip, Juan sank to the ground in a heap, moaning weakly.

“What’s that you say?  Stacy prescribed—­”

“I—­ I let him smell of the bottle,” explained Stacy guiltily.

“What bottle?”

Stacy slowly picked up the offending bottle and handed it to the Professor.

“Ammonia!  Boy, you might have put his eyes out!  Never let this occur again.  Remember, you are not to touch the medicines under any circumstances whatever!”

“Yes, sir,” agreed Chunky meekly, while Ned Rector strolled away, shaking with laughter.