About a pit of red hot coals, naked save for the breech clouts they wore, swayed the bodies of half-a-dozen powerful braves.

They were the fire dancers and Tad was gazing upon a scene that probably never will he seen again in this country—­ the last of the fire dances—­ a secret dance of which it was to be supposed the Government agents knew nothing.

Back and forth waved the copper-colored line, right up to the edge of the pit of glowing coals, uttering a weird chant, which was taken up by others who were not in the dance.

The voices of the chanters grew louder, their excitement waxed higher, as the thrill of song and dance pulsed through their veins.

All at once, Tad was horrified to see one of the dancers leap into the air, uttering a mighty shriek.  While still clear of the ground the dancer’s body turned, then he dove head first into the bed of hot coals.  He was out in an instant.

The chant rose higher as the remaining dancers followed the leader into the burning pit and out of it.  So quickly did they move that they seemed not to feel the heat, and from Tad’s point of vantage, he was sure that none was burned in the slightest.

Juan tried to pull away.  But Tad held him in a firm grip.

Now that the dancers had passed through the fire unscathed, others followed them, some no more than touching the live coals, then bounding out on the other side of the pit; others remaining long enough to roll swiftly across the glowing bed.

Excitement was rapidly waxing higher and higher.  The red men were in a dangerous mood.  It boded ill for the paleface who sought to interfere with their carnival at this moment.

“Come!” whispered Tad in a low, tense voice.  “We’ve got to get out of this mighty quick!  Chunky’s probably half scared to death, too.”

Tad did not go far.  He had scarcely taken half a dozen steps when a frenzied yell, a series of shrill shrieks sounded in the air.  The sounds seemed to come from all directions at once.

“What’s that?”

“Me not know.”

“Somebody’s running a pony.  I hear it coming.  It’s headed right for that bunch of crazy savages.  Probably an Indian gone mad.”

It was not an Indian who was the cause of this new disturbance, as the lad discovered almost immediately afterward.

“Yip, yip!  Y-e-o-w!  W-o-w!”

The yells were uttered in the shrill voice of Stacy Brown.

“It’s Chunky!” groaned Tad.  “Here’s trouble in earnest!”

They never knew just how it happened, and Chunky could not tell them, but in all probability the excitement had been too much for the fat boy!

He had moved closer when the dancing began, and the fever of it got into his veins until his excitement had reached a pitch beyond his control.

With a series of howls and yells, the fat boy drove the rowels of the spurs deep into his pony’s aides.