The night passed uneventfully. On the morrow, bright and early, the party continued their journey into the heart of the mountains. That day being Saturday, according to their usual practice, the Pony Riders went into camp to remain until Monday morning. This also gave the ponies a much-needed rest.
For this weekend stay, the tents were pitched in a deep, sombre canyon, that reminded the boys of Bright Angel Gulch in the Grand Canyon where they had encountered so many exciting experiences.
It was near the middle of the forenoon on Sunday when a stranger walked into camp, moving in long, determined strides. In the crook of his right arm he carried a rifle. The boys greeted the newcomer pleasantly, at the same time offering him the hospitality of a cup of coffee.
"I don't want no coffee," grunted the stranger, with a reckless disregard for the English language. "I want a heap sight more of you, though."
"First, may I ask who you are?" questioned Tad Butler.
"I'm not here to answer questions. I reckon you'll have to answer some instead."
"Let's have the questions, then," smiled Tad. "But if you won't answer questions why should you expect it of us?"
"Because I'm an officer, and I'm here on business."
"Business! What business?" blurted Stacy, jumping up. "Are you after Chops?"
"Humph! More likely I'm after all of you," rejoined the stranger. "But that depends."