stuff,
and-----"

"How is the chuck made?" demanded Jim Nance.

"I'll tell you. To make spirit soup you catch a snipe. Then you starve
him to death. Understand?"

Nance nodded.

"After you've starved him to death you hang him up on the sunny side
of the house till he becomes a shadow. A shadow, you understand?
Well, after he's become a shadow you let the shadow drop into a
barrel of rainwater. The result is spirit soup. Serve a teaspoonful
a day as directed," added Stacy, coming to a sudden stop as Ned trod
on his toes with a savage heel.

Jim Nance's whiskers stood out, the ends trembling as if from the
agitation of their owner, causing Chunky to shrink within himself.

"Very unseemly, young man," rebuked the Professor.

"It seems so," muttered Walter under his breath; then all hands
laughed heartily.

The meal being finished, Nance ordered a three-seated buckboard
brought around. Into this the whole outfit piled until the bottom
of the vehicle bent almost to the ground.

"Will it hold?" questioned the Professor apprehensively.

"I reckon it will if it doesn't break. We'll let the fat boy walk if
we've got too big a load," Nance added, with a twinkle.

"No, I'll ride, sir," spoke up Stacy promptly. "I'm very delicate and
I'm not allowed to walk, because-----"

"How far is it out to the corral, Mr. Nance?" questioned Tad.

"'Bout a mile as the hawk flies. We'll be there in a jiffy."

It appeared that all arrangements had been made by Mr. Perkins for the
stock, through a bank in Flagstaff, where he had deposited funds to
cover the purchase of stock and stores for the trip through the Canyon.
This the Professor understood. There remained little for the boys to
do except for each to pick out the pony be fancied.

They looked over the mustangs in the corral, asking the owner about
this and that one.

"I'll take that one," said Chunky, indicating a mild-eyed pinto that
stood apparently half asleep.

The owner of the herd of mustangs smiled.

"Kind and sound, isn't he?" questioned the fat boy.

"Oh, he's sound all right."

"Do you know how to handle a pinto, boy?" questioned Nance.

"Do I? Of course I do. Haven't I been riding the toughest critters
on the ranges of the Rockies for years and years? Don't I know how to
rope anything that ambles on four legs? Well, I guess! Gimme that
rope. I'll show you how to fetch a sleepy pinto out of his dreams."

The black that Chunky coveted s