"That will do, young man," warned the Professor. "I shall have to take you in hand if I hear any more such complaints. Do you know that you might have seriously injured Master Tad? Anything thrown from such a height strikes with considerable force."

Stacy hung his head, and thrusting his hands in his pockets walked away, after which there was peace in the camp of the Pony Riders for some time.

"Every time I try to have a little fun I get into trouble," muttered the boy. "I'll show them some of these days that Stacy Brown isn't the tenderfoot they seem to think he is. I'll do something yet."

He had already done so when he threw himself on the rope with the hope of saving his companion from a terrible fall. But, as usual, his effort had resulted in his own undoing.

"Got anything to eat?" he asked, approaching the group.

"You deserve to go hungry," retorted Ned.

"Looks as though he would, whether he deserves it or not," added Walter.

"Young men, there are some canned beans in my saddle bag. I carried them along in case we should become separated from our pack train,"

observed the Professor.

"Hooray!" laughed Ned, tossing his hat in the air. "I guess we won't starve this evening. Let's cook them?"

"What shall we cook them in?" asked Walter.

"That's so. I'd forgotten that. Our cooking outfit is at the bottom of the gorge."

"I think you will find something on one of the two remaining mules--something that will answer the purpose," suggested the Professor. "But first, I would suggest that you unpack your tents and pitch them. It is plain that we shall have to remain here all night."

"Why not throw Tad's tent down to him if we don't succeed in getting him up?" asked Chunky.

"Don't you think we've got enough to do with getting him and the provisions up, without throwing down the rest of our stuff?" sniffed Ned. "You must think we have an easy job ahead of us. Well, if you think that you're wrong; we haven't."

They got to work at once, unloading their tents. The canvas was soon spread out on the ground, ropes laid in place and folding cots placed where they belonged. The next task was to cut some tent poles, which was quickly accomplished. Shortly afterwards, the little tents sprang up, and the boys busied themselves with making them inhabitable.

While they were doing this, Professor Zepplin had busied himself with gathering firewood. He had trouble in finding enough dry stuff to answer their purpose. Walter remembered having seen some in a gully a short distance away.

"I know where it is. I'll go fetch it as soon as we have finished here," he said.

"Very well, Walter. I have enough here to start the supper with."

Having done all that was necessary to the tent for the time being, Walter Perkins ran off to get the wood for the night fire, while Ned, having found a spider, prepared to cook the supper.

Out of the packs he had drawn a small package that looked good to him.

He opened it and uttered a shout.

"Will we starve to-night? I guess not," he laughed, waving the contents of the package above his head.

"What have you found?" asked the Professor.

"Bacon. Enough for all of us and perhaps some to spare."

"Then, we are not so badly off after all, Master Ned. How about the coffee?"

"Coffee went down the hill."

"The tea also?"

"Yes. The whole business. Neither have we any b.u.t.ter or lard. We shall have to cook the beans in themselves and eat them without seasoning."

"Cook the bacon with them. That will furnish the salt," suggested Stacy.

"Large head," laughed Ned. "I'll do it. Go fetch me some water."

Stacy hurried away whistling, and in a few minutes returned with his sombrero filled with clear, cool mountain water.

"Here, here! What do you mean? Think we want to drink out of that old hat?" jeered Ned. "Get a pail; what ails you?"

"Nothing ails me. It's the pail you want to find fault with--not with me."

"What do you mean?"

"The pail's down at the bottom of the mountain with Tad," grinned Stacy.

"That's one on me," laughed Ned. "Very well, go wash the hat thoroughly. I suppose we shall have to use it for a water pail. A good scrubbing won't do it any harm, at that."

"I did wash it," replied Stacy. "Think I'd bring you water in it without doing so?"

"All right, put it down," said Ned, turning away.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"If I put the hat down the water will all run out over the top."

"Then stand there and hold it till we get through supper," growled Ned, turning to the fire where the bacon was frying in the pan of beans.

Stacy eyed him questioningly for a few seconds, and then with an exclamation poured the water on the ground, jamming the wet, dripping sombrero down over his head.

"You go get your own water. I'm not the cook, anyhow," he said, thrusting both hands into his trousers pockets and strolling over to the other side of the fire, where he watched the supper preparations out of the corners of his eyes.

"Serve you right if we didn't give you any supper," commented Ned.

"I'll set the table if you will agree not to find fault with the way I do it," offered the boy.

"Go ahead. I'll promise."

Stacy flirted the table cloth in the air, and after walking around several times, succeeded in smoothing it out. He could find only two spoons in their kit, and no knives and forks.

The boy pondered deeply for a moment, then hurried off into the brush, returning shortly, stuffing something in his inside coat pocket.

"Grub pi-i-i-lee!" announced the cook.