"I'll show you who's the tenderfoot. You go ahead and bolt the dinner, table and all, if you dare. Now, then!"

Stacy gathered up his reins. There was mischief in his eyes, which were fixed on the table, neatly set for the evening meal.

"You start right after me. They'll be surprised to see a procession of ponies going over the table, won't they?"

"Somebody'll be surprised. May not be the Professor and Santa Claus, though," growled Ned.

Stacy had his own ideas on this question, but he did not confide them to his companion.

The fat boy clucked to his pony, and the little animal started off. As they moved along, Stacy used the persuasive spurs resulting in a sudden burst of speed.

"Come on!" he shouted.

He heard Ned's pony pursuing him.

"Hi-yi-yi-y-e-o-w!" howled the shrill voice of the fat boy.

Professor Zepplin and Kris Kringle were sitting at opposite ends of the table, with elbows leaning on it, engaged in earnest conversation.

There had been so much yelling out on the plain ever since the boys left camp that the older men gave no heed to this new shout--did not even turn their eyes in the direction whence Stacy Brown and his pony were sweeping down on them at break-neck speed.

Suddenly the two men started back with a sudden exclamation, as a shadow fell athwart the table and a dark form hurled itself through the air, while a shrill, "w-h-o-o-p-e-e!" sounded right over their heads.

The fat boy cleared the table without so much as disturbing the fly to which he had referred when making the arrangement.

Kris Kringle's face wore an expansive grin as he discovered the cause of the interruption. But, Professor Zepplin's face reflected no such emotion. He was angry. He started to rise, when a second shadow fell across the table.

Ned Rector, not to be outdone by his fat little friend, pursed his lips tightly, driving his broncho at the dinner table and pressing in the spurs so hard, that the pony grunted with anger.

Up went the broncho in a graceful curving leap.

But the pony or its rider had not calculated the distance properly.

Both rear hoofs went through the table, whisking it off the ground from before the astonished eyes of Professor Zepplin and Kris Kringle.

Both men drew back so violently that they toppled over backwards.

'Mid the crashing of dishes and the sound of breaking wood, the dinner table shot up into the air, while the pony ploughed the ground with its nose.

Ned Rector struck the ground some distance farther on; he slid on his face for several feet skinning his nose, and filling mouth, eyes and nose with dirt.

Then dishes and pieces of table began to rain down on them in a perfect shower. A can of condensed milk emptied itself on the head of Professor Zepplin, while a hot biscuit lodged inside the collar of Santa Claus's shirt.

"Wow! Oh, wow!" howled the fat boy, falling off his pony in the excess of his merriment and rolling on the ground.

CHAPTER XVII

IN THE HOME OF THE CAVE DWELLERS

Ned Rector sat up just in time to meet the wreck of the descending table. Down he went again with Stacy's howls ringing in his ears.

A firm hand jerked Rector free of the debris as Kris Kringle laughing heartily hauled Ned to his feet. At the same moment Professor Zepplin had laid more violent hands on the fat boy, whom he shook until Stacy's howls lost much of their mirth. About this time Tad and Walter rode in, having hurried along upon hearing the disturbance in camp.

"Stacy Brown, are you responsible for this?" demanded the Professor sternly.

"I'm more to blame than he is," interposed Ned.

"No, I--I had an idea," chuckled Stacy, threatening to break out into another howl of mirth.

"Next time you have one, then, you will be good enough to let me know.

We will tie you up until the impulse to make trouble has pa.s.sed."

Tad and Walter could not resist a shout of laughter. 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.

Supper was a success, in spite of the fact that many of their dishes were utterly ruined, as well as some of the provisions. But the lads gathered up the pieces and made the best of a bad job. Fortunately they carried another folding table that they had had made for their trip, and this was soon spread and a fresh meal prepared.

"Well, have you two been getting into difficulties also?" questioned the Professor, after they sat down to supper.

"No; we've been exploring, Walter and I," answered Tad.

"Exploring?"

"Yes. We discovered something that I should like to know more about."

"What is that?" asked Kris Kringle, looking up interestedly.

"We were over yonder, close to the mountains, which are straight up and down, and half way to the top, we saw three or four queerly-shaped rocks that looked like houses or huts. Did you ever see them, Mr.

Kringle?"

"No; but I think I know what you mean. They must be some of the cave dwellings of the ancient Pueblos, or perhaps as far back as the Toltecs. They built their homes in caves on the steep rocks for better protection against their enemies."

"And n.o.body ever discovered these before?" questioned. Walter. "How queer!"

"Perhaps these dwellings, if such they are, have been seen by many a traveler, none of whom had interest enough in the matter to investigate. Then again, they may have been fully explored. There's not much in this part of the country that prospectors have not looked over."

"May we explore these caves, Professor?" asked Tad.

"Please let us?" urged Walter.

"I see no objection if Mr. Kringle will be responsible for you. I rather think I'll look into them myself. I'll confess the idea interests me. Are they easy to get at?"

"I'm afraid not," answered Tad.

"Santa Claus will show us the way," interrupted Stacy enthusiastically.