and nod
toward the mountain.

"Sunset Mountain," answered Professor Zepplin. "You should have
discovered that."

"But it isn't sunset," objected Walter.

"It is always sunset there. The effect is always a sunset effect."

"In the night, too!" questioned Chunky.

"No, it's moonset then," scoffed Rector.

"In the same direction you will observe the others of the San Francisco
mountains. However, we shall have more of this later on. For the
present you would do well to gather up Your belongings, for we shall
be at our journey's end in a few minutes."

This announcement caused the boys to spring up, reaching to the racks
above for such of their luggage as had been stowed there. All was
bustle for the next twenty minutes. Then the train drew into the
station, the cars covered with the dust of the desert, changing the
dark brown of their paint to a dirty gray.

The boys found that they had arrived at a typical western town, a
tree-surrounded, mountain-shadowed, breeze-blown place set like a gem
in a frame of green and gold, nestling, it seemed, at the very base
of the towering peaks of the San Francisco mountains, whose three
rough volcanic peaks stood silent sentinel over the little community
clustered at their base.

The railroad track lined one side of the main street, while business
blocks and public houses were ranged on the opposite side. Here the
garb of the Pony Riders failed to attract the same attention that it
had done further east. There were many others on the station platform
whose clothes and general get-up were similar to those of the boys.

But as they descended from the sleeping car, their arms full of their
belongings, each carrying a rifle in a case, they caught sight of a
man who instantly claimed their attention. He was fully sixty years
old, standing straight as a tree and wearing a soft black felt hat,
a white shirt and a wing collar. From his chin, extend almost back
to the ears, there stood a growth of white bristling whiskers. As he
tilted his head backward in an apparent effort to stand still more
erect, the whiskers stood out almost at right angles, giving him a
most ferocious appearance.

Tad felt a tug at his sleeve. He turned to find the big eyes of Chunky
Brown gazing up into his face.

"Is that the Wild Man of the Canyon?" whispered Stacy.

"I don't know. He looks as if he might be a Senator, or-----"

"Any of you boys know where we can find Jim Nance?" interru