other.

Splash!

The two boys disappeared in the water.

"Can they swim?" asked the guide, glancing a bit anxiously at the Professor.

"Like fish," answered Professor Zepplin tersely.

About that time two bobbing heads appeared above the water, only to disappear again, leaving some froth and a sea of bubbles on the surface. When next they appeared they were a long way from shore, but were swimming toward the bank, each with a hand on the other's coat collar, swimming with one hand.

"Look at the twin fish," howled Walter.

The swimmers did not answer him. They were too busy looking after themselves. Ned started to get to his feet as they reached shallow water, but Stacy was ahead of him. The fat boy butted Ned in the stomach, whereupon Stacy very calmly sat down on his companion's head, which was under water.

"Let him up!" cried Walter.

"Get off! He'll drown!" shouted the guide.

"Don't get excited. It will do him a lot of good to drown a few times. I've always observed that drowned persons are extremely well behaved persons."

The guide gripped Stacy by the collar and dragged him from his victim, while Walter was helping Ned up. Ned was purple in the face. He had been under water about as long as was good for him, though not quite long enough to suit the fat boy. A few seconds more, however, and Rector would have thrown Chunky, whereupon it would have been the fat boy's turn to swallow some water.

"I—I slipped," explained Ned between chokes.

"So I observed," replied Stacy solemnly.

"That was very rough and ungentlemanly, Stacy," rebuked the Professor.

"Rough on Ned, yes, sir. You would have thought so if I'd been sitting on your head under water."

"Never mind, Prof—Professor. I'll take—take care of him," coughed Rector.

"You tried to a little while ago. Mr. Vaughn, who won that bout?"

"You win on points," laughed the guide.

"If I had been a fish I'd have won in every other way. I'll tell you what, Ned. You said I was the lazy man and I ought to do the fishing. I'll do it and give you a chance to show how active you are. I will fix up a hook and line, then you jump in the water and swim around the bait just like a trout. You can make a grab for the hook once in a while it you want to. If I catch you by the upper lip I'm a good fisherman. If I don't, you are a good fish. What do you say?"

The others did the saying before Rector had a chance to speak. Chunky's proposition was too much even for the gravity of Professor Zepplin, whose body shook with laughter.

"Think I'm a trout?" growled Ned.

"No, you're a clam."

Ned started for Stacy, really angry now, but he was halted by the stern voice of the Professor.

"Young gentlemen, this thing has gone far enough. You will lose your tempers, then there will be trouble."

"Lose our tempers?" demanded Stacy. "Why, I'm so mad now that I'm speechless. Look out for me. Somebody hold me!"

"We miss Tad Butler. He was the one who held you in check, as I see the matter now," nodded the Professor.

"I wasn't aware, Professor, that Chunky had ever been in check," smiled Walter.

"That's what I say," agreed Ned. "It is high time something were done to curb him. There is no telling what he may not do now that Tad isn't here. I wish he were."

Stacy did not answer for the moment. He was gazing off over the rugged landscape with wondering eyes. Finally he turned, thrusting both hands in his trousers pockets, his chest swelling with importance.

"You win," he said.

"Win what?" demanded Ned sullenly.

"Your wish."

"I haven't made any wish. What did I wish?"

"You wished Tad Butler were here."

"Huh! I wish my wish might come true."

"I told you it had."

"What do you mean, Chunky?" questioned Walter suddenly.

"Why, Tad's here now. You fellows don't use your eyes. You can't any of you see beyond the ends of your noses."

The eyes of Professor Zepplin were twinkling. Cale Vaughn was regarding the lads quizzically. All at once Walter Perkins uttered a wild yell and bounding to his feet started off at a lively sprint. Ned rubbed his eyes, scarcely believing what they saw.

A horseman was galloping toward them at a fast gait. The figure of the horseman was slight, clad in khaki, a broad-brimmed sombrero waving in one hand.

"Whoo-oo-pee!" yelled the horseman, his voice coming to them faintly.

"It is Tad!" howled Ned, then he too started off at a run.

"They are a lively crowd, sir," observed the guide, turning to the Professor.

"You will think so before you get through with this job," answered the Professor grimly. "I have had several seasons of it, and I'm thankful to be able to say that I am still able to be about, though I have been on the verge of nervous prostration more than once."

The horseman, Tad Butler in reality, was now rapidly bearing down on the camp. Walter was far ahead of the pursuing Ned, but Chunky made no attempt to run out to meet his companion. He was still standing with hands in trousers pockets solemnly regarding the scene.

Walter and Tad were nearing each other, when the former stumbled and fell.

Tad raised a hand and Walter, understanding, lifted one hand also, whereupon Tad charged him at a gallop. The horseman swerved at the second when it seemed as if he must run down the kneeling boy, then the palms of the two lads met with a smack, Tad having leaned from the saddle. To the amazement of Cal Vaughn, who was not much of a horseman, the slender form of Walter Perkins seemed to rise right up into the air without effort on his part.

Walt landed astride of the pony just behind the rider, and at touch of spur the little pony straightened out and reached for the camp at a full run, nearly bowling over Ned Rector, who barely got out of the way in time to save himself from being run down.

"Well, what do you think of that?" exclaimed the guide. "I never saw anything like that outside of a circus."

CHAPTER III

A JOYFUL REUNION

"Howdy, fellows," greeted Tad laughingly as he leaped from his pony, followed by Walter who, less gracefully, fell off. "Didn't look for me just yet, did you?"

Professor Zepplin had hurried forward; his face was wreathed in smiles as he grasped the hand of the Pony Rider Boy.

"This is Mr. Vaughn, our guide," announced the Professor.

"I am very glad to know you, sir," answered Tad, smiling up into the strong face of Cale Vaughn, winning that gentleman's regard on the instant.

"And, ahem! This is Mr. Stacy Brown, the handy man," announced Chunky, pushing his way to the front and extending a hand to Tad.

"Hello, Chunky. Not growing thin, are you?"

"Be kind enough not to call attention to my superfluities. I am somewhat sensitive, you know."

"I beg your pardon," answered Tad gravely.

Just then Ned Rector came running in, puffing and blowing.

"Is that the way you treat me after I have run a mile more or less to welcome you?" demanded Ned, as Tad gripped him in a bear-like embrace.

"My, you're wet!" laughed Tad, holding Rector off to look at him.

"Yes, he's been in bathing with his clothes on," observed the fat boy solemnly. "Something ought to be done to break him of such slovenly habits. But how do you happen to be here, if I may be so bold as to inquire?"

"Don't you know?" questioned Tad, glancing at the smiling faces around him.

Stacy shook his head.

"Come over and sit down, and I'll tell you about it. By the way, have you folks anything to eat? I'm starving."

"You're not getting Chunky's disease, are you?" sneered Ned, trying to appear greatly displeased, but not making much of a success of the attempt.

"I am afraid I am, boys. Well, Mr. and Mrs. Perkins fixed it up to have Mother go with them to the mountains.