It was a week later, when, tired and dusty, the outfit pulled up at La Luz, a quaint hamlet nestling in the foothills of the Sacramento Mountains.  The place they found to be largely Mexican, and it was almost as if the visitors had slipped over the border to find themselves in Mexico itself.

Decorations were in evidence on all sides; bright-colored mantillas, Indian blankets and flags were everywhere.

“Hello, I guess something is going on here,” laughed Tad.

“We are in time, whatever it is,” nodded the guide.  “Probably it’s a feast of some kind.  You will be interested in it, if that is what it is.

The feast, they learned, was to be celebrated on the morrow with games, feats of strength and horsemanship.

“Do you think they will let us take part?” asked Tad, as the party made camp in the yard of a little adobe church, where they had obtained permission to camp.

“I’ll see about it,” answered the guide.  “There may be reasons why it would not be best to do so.”

“Maybe I can win another rifle,” suggested Chunky.

“These people don’t give away rifles.  They’re too—­ too—­ what do you call it?—­ too artistic.  That’s it.”

The camp being on the main street of the village, attracted no little attention.  After sundown, crowds of gayly bedecked young people strolled up and stood about the church yard, watching the American boys pitching their tents and preparing for their stay over night.

The villagers were especially interested in watching the boys get their supper, which was served up steaming hot within fifteen minutes after preparations had begun.  Chunky had bought several pies at the store, which, with a pound of cheese brought in by Ned, made a pleasant change in the daily routine.

Chunky started in on the pie.

Ned calmly reached over and took it away from him; then the supper went along until it came time for the dessert, when Chunky fixed his eyes on the cheese suspiciously.

“See anything wrong with that cheese?” demanded Ned.

“No, but I’ve got an idea.”

“Out with it!  You won’t rest easy until you do.  What’s your idea?”

“I was thinking, if I had a camera, I could make a motion picture of that cheese.  I heard of a fellow once—­”

“That will do, Master Stacy,” warned Professor Zepplin.

“Can’t I talk?”

“Along proper lines—­ yes.”

“Cheese is proper, isn’t it?”

“Depends upon how old it is,” chuckled Tad.

“You needn’t make fun of my cheese.  Here give it to me; I’ll eat it.”

“You’re welcome to it, Ned,” laughed the boys.

The fun went on, much to the amusement of the villagers, who remained near by until the evening was well along and the lads began preparing for bed.  Next morning the visitors began coming in to town early.  There were men from the ranches, Mexican ranch-hands arrayed in bright colors and displaying expensive saddle trimmings.  There were others from the wild places on the desert, far beyond the water limits, whose means of livelihood were known only to themselves.