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"Still, I can't understand this mysterious departure of our friends, the Rangers," persisted Professor Zepplin. "Perhaps it was the bugs," suggested Stacy wisely. "The bugs?" questioned the professor. Chunky nodded. Tad eyed the fat boy suspiciously. "Look here, what have you got up your sleeve, Stacy?" he demanded. "Nothing, I hope. But some of the fellows did." "Did what?" cut in Rector.
They'll make for the cave, as they know, by this time, that there is only one rifle in the party. The minute they do, should such an emergency arise, slide for the camp and get your gun. You'll know what to do with it. It'll be a case of saving the lives of your companions if it comes to that." "I understand," answered Tad bravely; and without a quaver in his voice.
Arriving there, he directed each of the lads to light a match at the same time so he could make a survey of the room to determine whether it were safe for them to remain there or not. "See that hole up there?" he exclaimed. "Yes, what is it?" asked Tad. "It's a check.
"What do you say to having a real breakfast down here?" suggested Walter. "Yes, I'm hungry," urged Chunky. "Oh, you'll get over that," retorted Ned. "An excellent idea, but what are you going to do for a fire?" asked Professor Zepplin. They had not thought of that before. "That's so. There is no wood down here at all," said Tad. "But, wait a minute.
He's one of the Indians from the reservation." The State had set aside certain land for the Indians on which they must live. Bunny and Sue, with their father or mother or Uncle Tad, had often been to the place where the Indians lived. "Are you all right, Bunny?" asked Sue again. "Yep. Course. But I'm all dirty. Don't you roll down."
Tad saw a hideous head projecting above the bushes. At first he was startled, then he laughed. "That's a totem pole, Chunky. They're put up usually in behalf of the Indian dead to drive the spirits away. Let's go and look at it." The totem pole was standing at the entrance of a second narrow gulch. Sand and shale rock were heaped up at the entrance.
"Who, Tad?" asked Walter, absorbed in the contemplation of his new possession. "Tad! Pooh! No; the pony, of course. I don't see anything very fetching about Tad, do you? But I should be willing to be as freckled as he is if I could stick on a pony's back the way he does." "Yes, he does know how to ride," agreed Walter.
"Don't you know at all?" "They were going to look for some tramp steamer that was to be here. If they found her they were going to sail at once to some other island," answered Peter Slade. Having said so much, Peter Slade seemed more inclined to talk, one reason being that he wanted to get at the bottom of the mystery which had brought Tad Sobber and his uncle to that part of the globe.
"It's up to you, Bob, I guess," nodded one of them, addressing the angry-faced mountain boy who was one of their number. The latter rose with what was intended to appear as offended dignity. "Ye mean me?" he demanded, glaring. "Yes, if you are the one who did it," answered Tad, looking him squarely in the eyes.
"I I won't keep still, Bunny Brown!" gasped Sue. "And I I don't need any first aid! I just helded my breath under water, I did, and I didn't swallow much anyhow. I was holding my breath when Uncle Tad began to raise up my legs, that's why I wiggled and couldn't speak. I'm all right now and I'm much obliged to you and Dix, Uncle Tad, and I hope my Sallie Malinda isn't in the lake."
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