"I think we are ready, Mr. Thomas," announced Tad, their task having been completed.

The boys shouldered their guns proudly.

"Oh, yes; there is something else that goes with it," advised Lige, after glancing critically over the boys and their outfits. "I had almost forgotten it. Fine general I'd make in war time!"

The guide ran to the cook tent which Jose was packing, returning in a moment with another of those mysterious packages.

By now the Pony Riders were worked up to a high pitch of excitement and antic.i.p.ation.

"What have you got?" asked Chunky, with his usual curiosity.

"I'll show you if you'll wait a minute," whereupon the guide opened the package, holding the contents toward them.

"What is it!" marveled Chunky, eyeing the things gingerly.

"I know! Cartridge belts!" shouted Ned Rector.

And cartridge belts they were--regulation canvas belts, each with a shining bra.s.s buckle, bearing a spread eagle on its face, the belts each having compartments for forty-five rounds of ammunition.

Once more the Pony Riders made the mountains ring with their shouts of joy in which not even the dignified German Professor could resist joining.

Stacy Brown in the meantime, had been greedily filling his belt with the cartridges, until finally there was room for no more.

The other three boys, who had quickly strapped on their belts, were parading about with guns on their shoulders, Walter Perkins giving them their orders.

"Wow! But this thing is heavy," exclaimed Chunky, the weight of his loaded belt tugging at his waist line.

"Here, here, Master Brown! You don't need all those sh.e.l.ls. Put all but ten of them back in the box," laughed the guide.

"They're not good to eat, Chunky," advised Walter.

"Huh!" grunted Ned Rector. "Anybody would think he was going into battle. Why, a soldier doesn't carry any more bullets than that. And what's more, Mr. Chunky Brown, if you intend to shoot off a belt full of those sh.e.l.ls, it's me for a rocky cave where the bullets can't reach. Eh, Tad?"

Tad nodded and grinned.

"I'm with you in that."

"We all have precious lives to save," added Ned.

"We are all ready," announced the guide. "Jose, you bear to the right after you leave camp and follow the blazed trail. We shall take the lower trail. Push right along so as to have a meal ready for us when we get in. We'll be hungry by that time."

"Have we any lunch with us?" asked the Professor.

"Yes, in the saddle bags."

A few moments later the boys were waking the echoes with the crashing explosions of their weapons as they banged away at the targets.

CHAPTER X

THE LOSS OF THE PACK TRAIN

"Feels good to be in the saddle again, doesn't it, Walt?"

"Yes, Ned. At least it's better than falling over a cliff. How do you feel, Chunky?"

"Shoulder aches where the gun kicked me. I didn't think a gun could hit so hard from both ends at the same time."

Stacy Brown worked his right arm up and down like a pump-handle, making a wry face as he did so.

The boys had completed their first target practice, in which Tad and Ned had carried off even honors, with Walter Perkins a close second, while Stacy Brown had hit pretty much everything within range except the target itself.

About the best they had been able to do with him was to induce him to keep his eyes open, at least, until the first finger of his right hand had begun to exert a gentle pressure on the trigger. Then, he would pinch his eyelids so tightly together as to compress his forehead into a series of small ridges.

Their practice had lasted some two hours, and now they were once more picking their way over the rough mountain trail, headed for Bald Mountain, and discussing the happenings of the night and morning.

Considerable amus.e.m.e.nt was afforded them when, on the journey, old Bobtail, as they had named the Professor's cob, stumbled and threw its rider over its head.

Fortunately, Professor Zepplin was not injured. He explained that he had had too many similar disasters while an officer in the German army, and that he did not mind a slight mishap like that at all. He declared that it reminded him so much of his younger days that he really enjoyed the sensation of falling off.

This caused the Pony Riders to shout with laughter, and Ned confided to Tad, by whose side he was riding, that he never knew the Professor was such a real sport.

From then on the afternoon pa.s.sed quickly. Although the sun was shining brightly, the air was cool and invigorating, and a gentle breeze fanned their cheeks when the riders reached the higher places.

At such times the boys would break into exclamations of wonder at the gorgeous panorama which unfolded itself before them.

"Makes a fellow feel as if he were walking on air, doesn't it?"

bubbled Stacy Brown.

"You will be in a minute, if you don't watch out where you are going,"

warned Ned, observing that the boy had unconsciously pulled his horse too near the outer edge of the trail. "Walt tried that last night, and you know what happened to him."

"Yes, but Chunky would not come out of it quite so well," spoke up Tad.

"I reckon he'd break a rock or two on the way down," grinned Ned Rector, clucking to his pony.

About four o'clock that afternoon Lige announced that they had arrived at their destination. Yet not a sign of Jose and the pack train could they find. He had not arrived.

The faces of the Pony Riders grew long at this, for the ride had given them an appet.i.te that would not bear trifling with.

"What do you suppose has happened to the pack train, Mr. Thomas?"

asked Tad.

"Probably been delayed by a pack slipping off. But don't you worry. Jose will be along in good time," smiled Lige.

However, in his own mind the guide believed that, while this might be possible, it was more likely that the cook had missed his way, and was now wandering about the mountains. It was too late to go in search of the missing outfit that day, so there was nothing to do but to wait until morning, then to start out after it, in case the straggler had not come in by then.