“See it?  See it?”

“Most remarkable,” breathed Professor Zepplin.

“Yes, there can be no doubt about it,” nodded the guide.

“He’s bluffing,” disagreed Ned.

“Doesn’t look to me as if he were,” returned Tad.

“Take hold with me here, if you don’t believe me,” cried Stacy.  “No, not on the stick, take hold of my wrists.”

Ned promptly accepted the invitation.

Instantly the tug of the divining rod was felt by the new hands.

Ned let go quickly.

“Ugh!  The thing gives me the creeps.”

“Let me try it, Master Stacy,” said Professor Zepplin.

“I can’t let go of it,” wailed Chunky.

“Step off a piece,” directed the guide.

Stacy did so, whereupon the divining rod immediately ceased its peculiar actions.

The Professor took hold of it, but the rod refused to work for him.

“Let Santa Claus try it,” suggested Ned.

The guide did so, but with no more success than the Professor had had.

“I told you it wouldn’t work for me,” Mr. Kringle grinned.  “Here, Master Tad, you try it.”

Tad, with the rod grasped firmly in his hands, walked back and forth three times without result.  On the fourth attempt, however, the stick suddenly bent nearly double.

All were amazed.

“Why were we unable to get results, Mr. Kringle?” questioned the Professor.

“According to some French writers as much depends upon the man as on the divining rod.  Where one succeeds another fails absolutely.  Supposing the others take a try?”

Walter and Ned did so, but neither could get the rod to move for him.

“I guess Chunky is the champion water-finder,” laughed Ned.

“Would it not be a good idea to find out whether or not there is water here?” asked the Professor.

“Yes,” agreed the guide.  “It may be so far down that we cannot reach it, however.  You know in some parts of this region they are locating water with the rod and sinking artesian wells.”

“Why—­ why didn’t we think to bring some down with us?” demanded Chunky.  “Can’t we get any in some of the towns down here?”

“Some what?” questioned the guide.

“Artesian wells.”

A roar greeted the fat boy’s question.

“Bring down a load of artesian wells!” jeered Ned.

“An artesian well, my boy, is nothing more than a hole in the ground,” the guide informed him, much to Chunky’s chagrin.

The spot where the divining rod had so suddenly gotten busy was about midway of an old water course, covered with a thick growth of bunch grass.

“Get some tools, boys,” directed the Professor.

Tad ran back to camp, which lay some distance to the east of where they were gathered.  Searching out a pick and two shovels, he leaped on his pony, dashing back to the arroyo.

“That was quickly done,” smiled Santa Claus.  “Are all of you lads as quick on an errand as that?”