The Pony Rider Boys in the Ozarks | Page 7

tragedy that their companion
had caused.
"What's this? What's this?" demanded the Professor. "What's the
matter?"
"Pony fall down! Pony fall down!" exclaimed the Indian, with a trace
of excitement in his tone.
"He means our long-eared friend has taken a header over that rock
there," Ned Rector informed them.
"I am afraid it is more serious than that," added Tad. "It looked to me
as if the pack mule went over a cliff."
"Him fall down, fall down, fall down," repeated the guide.
Chunky, frightened at the result of his prank, had quickly scrambled

into his own saddle and drawn back from the scene of his late exploit.
Professor Zepplin did not understand how it had happened.
"I'm to blame, sir," announced Chunky, plucking up courage and riding
up beside the Professor. "I hit him with a stick and he ran away."
In spite of the disaster that had come upon them, the boys could not but
laugh at the boy's rueful countenance. Nor did the Professor find it in
his heart to be harsh.
"You deserve to be punished, sir, but somehow when I look at you my
anger vanishes instantly. The next question is, how are we going to get
the beast up here? What do you say, guide?"
"Him dead."
"What's that?"
"Pack pony, him gone Happy Hunting Ground."
"You don't mean he has been killed?"
The guide nodded with emphasis, at the same time bringing the palms
of his hands sharply together to convey the impression that the mule
had hit the rocks below so hard that he would never rise of his own
accord again.
"Now we are in a fix," said Ned.
"I guess we had better make Chunky walk and use his pony for packing
the outfit," suggested Walter.
"Yes, but we have little or no outfit to pack," answered Tad. "Most of it
is down there with the dead mule; how far I don't know."
The Pony Rider Boys gasped. This, indeed, was a serious situation.
CHAPTER III

A DARING PROPOSAL
For a full moment the boys looked at each other doubtfully. Professor
Zepplin was the first to break the silence.
"Wha--what pack did the mule have?"
"Part of the kitchen outfit and all of the canned goods," answered Tad
Butler impressively.
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?"
"Mule no pack more."

"Can you get down there to gather up our belongings?"
Eagle-eye shook his head.
"No get um."
"Why not?" interjected Walter.
"Pony fall in--Injun fall in," grunted the Shawnee.
"But can we not go forward or else back a mile or so and find an
entrance to the gorge?" demanded the Professor.
"Yes, that's the idea. Of course we can," urged Ned. "We are not half as
bad off as we thought. Of course the mule is done for, but we can
divide up the pack amongst us boys and carry it all right until we get
where we can either hire or buy another mule. Don't think a little thing
like that will stop us."
"How about it, Eagle-eye?" asked Tad.
"No get um. Water him deep. Him cold, b-r-r-r! Pony drown, Indian
drown. Mebby fat boy drown, too."
"That seems to settle it," announced the Professor. "We shall have to
hold a council of war, as Eagle-eye does not seem to have any
suggestions to make. What have you to say about it, Master Tad?"
"I think it would be a good idea to take a look over the cliff before
offering any suggestions," answered the lad, dismounting and tethering
his pony. "Perhaps the guide may be wrong."
One look over the bold cliff, however, was sufficient to convince Tad
of the correctness of the Indian's judgment. He found himself gazing
down into one of