“I—­ I lost my shirt,” interjected Stacy.

“And I suppose you fell in,” chuckled Ned.

“No; I fell off.”

“We’re lucky to be alive,” laughed Tad.

“You are that.  I see now that Professor Zepplin was right when he said you could take care of yourself.  Never saw anything quite so slick as the way you roped that redskin—­”

“And—­ and I punched the other one,” glowed Chunky.

“Did you see us?” questioned Tad.

“Yes, we saw the whole proceeding.  But you were so mixed up that we couldn’t fire without danger of hitting one of you boys.  Wonder what those Apaches think struck them,” laughed the guide.  “How did you get through the fire?”

Tad explained briefly; at the same time accounting for the loss of Stacy’s shirt.

“I bet that the fellow with the canary-wing face has a sore jaw,” bubbled Stacy.

“No doubt of it, Master Stacy.  I didn’t suppose you had such a punch as that.  You’re a good Indian fighter.”

“Always was,” answered the fat boy, swelling with importance.

“Come, we’ll have to hurry back It will be dark before we reach camp, as it is, and the Professor will be worrying about you.”

They turned about, and, heading across the burned area, started for camp.  Fitful blazes were springing up here and there, but all danger had, by this time, passed, though the smoke still hung heavy and the odor of burned vegetation smote the nostrils unpleasantly.

Stacy sniffed the air suspiciously.

“Tastes like a drug store fire I smelled once in Chillicothe,” he averred.

“I haven’t made up my mind, yet, how that fire started, Mr. Kringle,” wondered Tad.

“I have,” replied the guide tersely.

“How?”

“It was set afire!”

“By whom?”

“By one of those savages, or by somebody who was with them.  They must have been watching you all the time.  Did you recognize either of them as the fellow you knocked down the other might?”

“No; I don’t think I would know the Indian.  The light was too uncertain at the fire dance, and then again, all Indians look alike to me.”

“It was a narrow escape.”

“Do you think they’ll come back again?” questioned Ned.

“I doubt it.  They won’t if they recognized me.  They know me.  They’ve done business with me before.”

Professor Zepplin and Walter were overjoyed when at last the party rode into camp and they learned that both boys were safe.  The lads were obliged to go all over their experiences again for the benefit of the Professor and Walter.

“It’s getting worse and worse,” decided the Professor helplessly.  “I don’t know where all this is going to end.  I thought when we got a new guide—­ but what’s the use?  Do you think we had better start to-night, Mr. Kringle?”

“No.  There is no necessity.”

“What am I going to do for a pony?” asked Chunky.