Breakfast was cooked in the cool of the early dawn, long before the sun had pushed its burning course up above the desert sands. Though the boys had but little sleep, they tumbled out at the guide's first hail, full of joyous enthusiasm for what lay before them that day.
Stacy Brown emerged from his tent rubbing his eyes. The lads uttered a shout when they saw him.
"Look at him!" yelled Ned. "Look at Chunky's eye!"
The right eye was surrounded by a black ring, the eyelid being of the same dark shade, where the end of the telescope on his rifle had kicked him.
"Young man, you are a sight to behold," smiled the Professor.
"I don't care. I got the coyote," retorted Stacy, with a grin.
"And the gun got him," added Walter.
"Judging from your appearance, I should say that the butt of your rifle was almost as dangerous as the other end," laughed Tad.
"Come and get it!" called the guide.
The lads never had to be called twice for meals, and they were in their places at the breakfast table with a bound.