The call was in the stentorian voice of Professor Zepplin, to which Ned Rector added a shout of his own.
Fearing that some ill had befallen Tad and Stacy, the others had started out after them. Following them came Walter and the lazy Mexican.
"We're down here! Look out for the Indians!" warned Tad in a loud voice.
"You're crazy!" jeered Ned. "Come out of that. What ails you fellows? The dinner's stone cold and Professor Zepplin is all in the stew."
Tad scrambled to his feet, with a quick glance at the top of the ridge, where, but a moment before, half a dozen rifles had been leveled at Chunky and himself.
Not an Indian was in sight. Tad was amazed. He could not understand it. Grabbing Stacy by an arm he hurried him up the other side of the gulch, where they quickly joined their companions.
"What does this mean?" demanded the Professor.
"Hurry! We must get out of this. It's Indians!"
"They—they wanted to scalp us," interjected Stacy.
"But you runned away, eh? Brave man!" chuckled Ned.