r some other heathen country."

The boys promised and so did the Professor, and both men knew the lads
would keep their word, for by this time they held that stream in
wholesome respect.

Chunky, after the guide and Tad had left, perched himself on the point
of a rock where he lifted up his voice in "Where the Silvery Colorado
Wends Its Way," Ned Rector occupying his time by shying rocks at the
singer, but Chunky finished his song and had gotten half way through it
a second time before one of Ned's missiles reached him. That put an
end to the song and brought on a rough and tumble fight in which Ned
and Stacy were the sole participants. Chunky, of course, got the worst
of it. The two combatants locked arms and strolled away down the river
bank after Chunky had been sufficiently punished for trying to sing.

Night in the canyon was an experience. The roaring of the river which
no longer could be seen was almost terrifying. Then, too, a strange
weird moaning sounded all about them. Dad, who had returned, explained
that it was supposed to be the wind. He confided to Tad that it was
the spirit of the Canyon uttering its warning.

"Warning of what?"

"I don't know. Maybe a storm. But you can believe something's going
to come off, kid," answered Nance with emphasis.

Something did come off. Tad and Nance had fetched the blankets of the
party back with them, together with two large bundles of wood for the
camp fire, which materials they had let down from point to point at the
end of their ropes. Tad had learned always to carry his lasso at his
belt. It was the most useful part of his equipment. He had gotten
the other boys into the habit of doing the same. Rifles had been left
in the camp above, as they were a burden in climbing down the rocks.
But all hands carried their heavy revolvers.

A very comfortable camping place was located Under an overhanging shelf
of rock, the camp fire just outside lighting up the chamber in a most
cheerful manner. There after supper the party sat listening to Dad's
stories of the Canyon during some of his thirty years' experience with
it.

The wind was plainly rising. It drew the flames of the fire first in
one direction, then in another. Nance regarded the signs questioningly.
After a little he got up and strolled out to the edge of the roaring
river. Tad and Chunky followed him.

"We are going to have a storm," said Dad.

"A heavy one?" asked Tad.

"A regular hu