"It won't be till after we get out of this hole," declared Dad. "And from present indications, that won't be to-night."
"Tell us something about the lions," urged Walter. "Are they ugly?"
"Well, they ain't exactly household pets," answered the guide, with a faint smile.
"Is it permitted to hunt them?" interjected the Professor.
"Yes, there's no law against it. The lions kill the deer and the government is glad to be rid of the lions. But you won't get enough of them to cause a flurry in the lion market."
"No, there's more probability of there being a panic in the Pony Rider market," chuckled Tad.
"I'm not afraid," cried Stacy.
"No, Chunky isn't afraid," jeered Ned. "He doesn't want to go home when the marbles roll down from the mountain! Oh, no, he isn't afraid! He's just looking for dangerous sport."
Their repartee was interrupted by another roar, louder than the first. But though they listened for a long time there was no repetition of the disturbing roar of the king of the canyons.
Soon after that the lads went to bed. Tonight they slept soundly, for they had had little sleep the previous night, as the reader knows. When they awakened on the following morning the conditions had not changed. They were still prisoners in the Grand Canyon not far from the foot of Bright Angel Trail. All hands awoke to the consciousness that unless something were done, and at once, they would find themselves face to face with starvation. It was not a cheerful prospect.