I see any more such unseemly conduct I shall send you home
in disgrace," rebuked the Professor as they walked back to the village.

"The boy wasn't to blame, Professor," interceded Dad. "The buck pitched
into him first. He had to defend himself."

"No, don't be too hard on Chunky," begged Tad. "You must remember that
he wasn't quite himself. First to be boiled alive, then set upon by
an Indian, I should say, would be quite enough to set anyone off his
balance."

The Professor nodded. Perhaps they were right, after all. So long as
the chief was not angry, why should he be? The chief, in his
unemotional way, seemed pleased with the result of the encounter.
But Professor Zepplin, of course, could not countenance fighting.
That was a certainty. With a stern admonition to Chunky never to
engage in another row while out with the Pony Rider Boys, the Professor
agreed to let the matter drop.

The day was well spent by that time, and the party was invited to pass
the night in the village, which they decided to do. The chief gave
the Professor a cordial invitation to share his ha-wa with him, but
after a sniff at the opening of the hovel Professor Zepplin decided
that he would much prefer to sleep outside on the ground. The others
concluded that they would do the same. The odors coming from the
ha-was of the tribe were not at all inviting.

After sitting about the camp fire all the evening, the Pony Rider Boys
wrapped themselves in their blankets and lay down to sleep under the
stars with the now gloomy walls of the Canyon towering above them, the
murmur of the silvery Havasu in their ears.

CHAPTER XXIV

CONCLUSION

The night was a restful one to most of the party, except as they were
aroused by the barking of the dogs at frequent intervals, perhaps
scenting some prowling animal in search of food.

Chunky was awakened by Tad at an early hour. The fat boy uttered a
familiar "Oh, wow!" when he sought to get up, then lay back groaning.

"Why, what's the matter?" demanded Butler.

"My skin's shrunk," moaned Stacy. "It fits me so tight I---I can't
move."

"His skin's shrunk," chorused the Pony Rider Boys. "His skin is a
misfit."

"Take it back and demand a new suit if you don't like it," laughed Ned
Rector.

"It isn't any laughing matter. I tell you it's shrunk," protested Stacy.

"All right, it will do you good. You'll know you've got a skin. Last
night you said it was all roasted off fro