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Updated: May 13, 2025
"Say, what ails you?" demanded Tad, putting down by supreme force of will, his own inclination to yawn. "I I guess yah it must be the the mountain air. Yah-hum," yawned the fat boy. Pink-eye coughed off among the cedars. "What means all this disturbance, young gentlemen?" demanded the Professor. "It's Chunky and the bronchos yawning," Ned Rector informed him. "So did you," observed Stacy Brown.
"Yah-hum," breathed Walter Perkins, half rousing himself from his nap. "Ho-ho-hum," added the deep bass voice of Professor Zepplin. "Yah see here, stop that!" commanded Ned Rector, suddenly raising himself to a sitting posture. "You've done nothing but stretch your mouth in yawns ever since we reached Montana. See, you've waked up the whole camp." "Ho-hum," said Chunky.
"What other motive could an Indian have for a visit at that hour? There is no cause for alarm. But I wish if any more hungry ones pay us a visit, they would do so in the day time, so as not to interrupt my sleep." "And mine," laughed Tad. "Yah-hum," yawned Stacy, sleepily. "I told you you weren't awake yet," growled Ned. "Let's all go back to our breakfast."
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