"He won't go down there," said Ned. "He may say he will, but he won't."
"I'll see that he does," replied the Professor, with a firm closing of the lips. "I have trifled long enough. Now we shall do something. I—"
"Well, what's all the excitement about?" demanded a cheery voice behind them.
"Tad! It's Tad!" shouted the boys in chorus.
With yells of delight they pounced upon him and for a moment there was a regular football scrimmage, with Tad Butler at the bottom of the heap, the others mauling him about with shouts of glee.
It was the Pony Rider Boys' way of showing their delight at the return of their companion. But Tad did not mind it at all. Throwing them off with a prodigious effort he scrambled to his feet, dust-covered, hatless and with hair in a sad state of disorder.
Professor Zepplin had thrust the other boys aside and was gripping
Tad's hands.
"It's the last time you ever get me to consent to your taking such a chance," he said. "How did you get out? You certainly did not climb up the side of the mountain."
"Oh, no," laughed Tad. "I knew there must be some way out, for I found a moccasin track down there in the sand before I turned in last night."
"You must have pretty good eyes to find a moccasin track in the dark," laughed Ned.