to leave the view that fascinated and held them so enthralled. That day
they journeyed over to the hotel for dinner. The guests at the quaint
hotel were much interested in the Pony Rider Boys, and late in the
afternoon quite a crowd came over to visit Camp Grand, as the lads had
named their camp after the pack train had arrived and the tents were
pitched.

There were four tents all pitched in a row facing the Canyon, the tents
in a straight line. In front the American flag was planted, the camp
fire burning about midway of the line and in front, so that at night
it would light up the entire company street.

They cooked their own supper, Tad attending to this. But the boys were
too full of the wonderful things they had seen that day to feel their
usual keen-edged appetite.

The dishes put away, the Professor having become deeply absorbed in an
argument with some gentlemen from the hotel regarding the "processes
of deposition and subsidence of the uplift," Tad slipped away, leaving
his chums listening to the conversation. Dad was also listening in
open-mouthed wonder that any human being could use such long words as
were being passed back and forth without choking to death. He was,
however, so absorbed in the conversation that he did not at the moment
note Butler's departure. Tad passed out of sight in the direction of
the Canyon.

After a few moments had passed, Dad stirred the fire, then he too
strolled off toward the rim. Tad, fearless, regardless of the peril to
himself, was lying flat on his stomach gazing down over the rim,
listening to the mysterious voices of the Canyon.

"I don't want you to be here, boy," said the guide gently.

Though he had approached silently, without revealing his presence, Tad
never moved nor started, the tone was so gentle, and then again the
boy's mind was full of other things.

"Why don't you want me here, Mr. Nance?" Dad squatted down on the very
edge of the rim, both feet banging over, one arm thrown lightly over
Tad's shoulders.

"You might fall."

"What about yourself? You might fall, too. You are in more danger than
am I."

"Dad is not afraid. The Canyon is his home---"

"You mean you live here?"

"The greater part of the year."

"Where?"

"Some day I will show you. It is far, far down in my beloved Canyon,
where the foot of the white man seldom strays. Have you heard the
strange voices of Dad's friend?"

"Yes, Dad, I have heard. I hear them now