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Updated: May 9, 2025
"I'll talk with Professor Zepplin. Come, we will go over to the camp now." When Mr. Marquand and the Professor had finished their conference, Tad and Chunky leaned forward eagerly to learn the result. "Yes," nodded Mr. Marquand; "you're all going to help me find the ancient Pueblo treasure." "I'm done with you, Bob Lasar! And you, too, Comstock!" thundered Mr.
Old Hicks was hammering a dishpan on a wheel of the chuck wagon, regardless of the damage he was inflicting on the pan, and screaming with delight. Professor Zepplin as soon as he could recover his wits, rushed to the rescue and from the flying legs and horns managed to extract Stacy Brown and drag him up to the dry ground. The lad was a spectacle.
Kris Kringle was not slow to follow the example set by them, and all at once Professor Zepplin forgot his dignity, sitting right down amid the wreck and laughing immoderately. Ned washed his face, and when, upon facing them, he exhibited a peeled nose and a black eye, the merriment was renewed again.
There's always more or less danger, and Jones will never let up on you until either he gets you or we get him." "I think I understand," nodded Tad. "You think we shall be able to assist you?" "Exactly." "Will you please explain?" begged Professor Zepplin. "You can help us a great deal, by remaining here. It is safe to suppose that the band will devote no little effort toward getting even with you.
"N-n-n-now you've done it," chattered Stacy Brown. "Tad, Tad! What have you done?" cried the Professor. "I have put the poor thing out of its agony, that's all," answered Butler. His face was pale and his eyes troubled. "But you've killed him," protested Professor Zepplin. "Didn't you see that he was choking to death, Professor?
Tad had tipped the pot of hot coffee into the fat boy's lap, and for a few moments confusion reigned. "Don't talk too much," whispered Butler leaning over to brush away some drops that had fallen on the professor's shirt. "Eh? Eh? What's that?" Tad was embarrassed. He began speaking of something else. Professor Zepplin did not repeat his question.
The wet clothing and body made the sand stick to him until the lazy Mexican was scarcely recognizable. At this point Professor Zepplin took a hand. He came bounding to the scene and began throwing the boys roughly from their unhappy victim. Perhaps be was not greatly disturbed over the shaking up the guide had sustained, but of course he confided nothing of this to the boys.
Evidently realizing the fate that was in store for it, the mule brayed shrilly. The Pony Rider Boys sat gazing on the scene with fascinated eyes. Even Professor Zepplin was at a loss for words, and at a greater loss for a remedy for the disaster that was upon them. Tad Butler's brain was working, however. Suddenly Tad raised his rope above his head and gave it three sharp twirls. Then he let go.
Tad soon observed something familiar in the movements of the two figures who were walking beside the superintendent's pony, and in a moment Tad made out through the gloom the well-known form of Professor Zepplin. "There they are! There they are!" he shouted. "They've got back. Hurrah!" "Rah!" echoed Stacy Brown, flirting one hand lazily. The meeting was a joyous one for all concerned.
Yet this was not exactly the surprise he had planned for them, or for himself. The guide had put his gun down as he entered the chamber, to get one of the stalactites for Professor Zepplin, who wished to examine it. As a result, Lige was now some twenty-five feet away from his weapon.
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