Ned Rector laughed.
"This is where we give our stomachs a rest," he mocked.
"I fail to see anything humorous in our present predicament," chided the Professor. "We are many miles from our base of supplies, with our supplies at the bottom of a gorge, goodness knows how deep down. Whether we can get down there or not I haven't the slightest idea—"
"Don't we get anything to eat?" wailed Chunky.
"Think you deserve to have anything?" demanded Ned.
"Don't be hard on him," spoke up Tad. "He feels cut up enough about it as it is. We've all done just as foolish things, only they didn't happen to turn out the way this one has."
Chunky turned his pony about and rode a few paces away from them, being more disturbed than he cared to have his companions know.
"Eagle-eye," called the Professor.
The Indian was leaning over the cliff looking down into the deep canyon, trying to find the pack mule. He straightened up and strode over to the Professor upon being called.
"You sure the mule is dead?"