Tad was gloomy. He had hoped to take the lion home with them, having already planned where he would keep the beast until the town, which he thought of presenting it to, had prepared a place for the gift. Now his hopes had been dashed. He had no idea that they would be able to get another lion. It was not so easy as all that. But how had the beast gotten away? There was a mystery about it fully as perplexing as had been the loss of Stacy's rifle. Tad was beginning to think, with Dad, that mysterious forces were, indeed, at work in the Grand Canyon.
While he was brooding over the problem, Chunky, emulating the movements of the guide, was down on hands and knees, examining the ground.
"Find any footprints?" called Ned in a jeering voice.
Stacy did not reply. His brow was wrinkled; his face wore a wise expression.
"Look out that you don't get bitten," warned Walter mischievously.
"By what?" demanded Stacy, glancing up.
"Footprints," answered Ned.
"Could any person have gotten in here and let the cat go without our having heard him, Mr. Nance?" asked Tad Butler.
"I reckon he couldn't."
"Did you hear anything in the night, Nance?" questioned the Professor.