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Updated: May 9, 2025
His car is strewn with myriad CDs but he repeats the same song from one that belongs to his mother. He sings along with Led Zepplin.
Look!" exclaimed the guide, fairly diving to the ground, and rising with a round stone in his hand. He held it up almost triumphantly for their inspection. But his find failed to make any noticeable impression upon either the boys or Professor Zepplin. They knew that in some mysterious way it must be connected with the loss of their companion, though just how they were at a loss to understand.
"Tend to business, boys," warned the Professor, observing a series of frantic gestures on the part of Stacy Brown. "What does he want, to be lowered?" "Yes, yes, don't you understand?" "No, we don't understand motions in a foreign language," laughed Walter, permitting the rope to slip through his hands a little. "How's that?" queried Professor Zepplin. "More rope!" roared Stacy.
This is Professor Zepplin. The young man with whom you came in is Stacy Brown, otherwise Chunky, and here are Mr. Rector and Mr. Perkins. If you will gather around the fire I'll serve the chuck." "Thanks, young man. You certainly know how to do the honors, as well as how to fry bacon. I could smell that across a county and I'd ride to it as fast as horseflesh could carry me."
The same result followed. "Gold! Gold! Rich yellow gold!" breathed the scientist. He sat with head bowed, breathing heavily, his fascinated gaze fixed on the shining metal. "Can it be possible!" he murmured. The loud laughter of the boys off by the camp fire was borne to his ears. But Professor Zepplin did not seem to hear the sounds. He was lost in deep thought.
He had other things to think of at that moment. "I'll wait a second until he lets up ever so little, then, with my superior weight, I ought to be able to throw him " "I've got you this time. What do you mean by prowling about our camp at this time of the " "Wha what who who " exclaimed the Professor. "What!" fairly shouted the other. "Who who are you?" "I'm Professor Zepplin. Who are you?"
"He never moved so fast in his life, I'll wager." Juan was running in a circle now, shrieking and moaning. Professor Zepplin approached them in a series of leaps. He could not imagine what new disaster had overtaken the lazy Mexican. "Here, here, here, what's the trouble now?" He demanded sternly. "Stop that howling!" "Chunky's been prescribing for your patient in your absence," Ned informed him.
Without it I should have failed," answered Tad generously. "Which way are you headed?" asked Mr. Marquand. "Guadalupes," answered the guide. "The boys want to explore some of the old pueblos." "And I also," spoke up Professor Zepplin. "I understand there is much of interest in them." "I should say so," muttered their guest.
But Professor Zepplin instead of waiting where he was, reached for his revolver and then strode boldly out into the open space in front of the tents, determined to solve the mystery, and, if possible, without waking the boys.
Stacy waved the bottle at arm's length before placing it to his mouth. The charge went over his shoulder and soaked the Professor's whiskers before the fat boy succeeded in steering the mouth of the bottle safely to his lips. Professor Zepplin sputtered, Ned Rector threatened, but the fat boy ate and drank, regardless of the disturbance he had caused.
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