The whole pack turned tail and ran with Stacy after them in full flight, headed for the desert.
Tom Parry, aroused by this new note in the midnight medley, tumbled out just in time to see Stacy disappearing over the ridge. The guide was followed quickly by the other three boys of the party and Professor Zepplin.
"Hey, come back here!" shouted Parry.
The fat boy paid no attention to him. He was too busy chasing coyotes across the desert at that moment to give heed to anything else.
"Get after him, boys! If he falls they're liable to pile on him and chew him up before we can get to him!" commanded the guide.
Over the ridge bounded the pajama brigade. The coyotes, frightened beyond their power of reasoning, if such a faculty was possessed by them, were now no more than so many black streaks lengthening out across the desert.
The lads set up a whoop as they started on the chase after their companion.
"Rope him, somebody!" shouted Parry.
"Haven't any rope," answered Tad, with a muttered "Ouch!" as his big-toe came in contact with the can of condensed milk.
Laughing and shouting, they soon came up with Stacy, however, because he could not run as fast as the other boys. Tad caught up with him first, and the two lads went down together. In another minute the rest of the party had piled on the heap.