morning. The Pony Riders had no guide with them on this journey,
believing that one would not be needed. Nor did they carry a pack train.
One additional pony bore all their extra baggage, each mount being
loaded with all that he could carry in addition to its rider. For tents
they had brought one large enough to accommodate the entire party.
This was in sections, carried on the different ponies.

Five o'clock had come and gone. The sun was partly bidden by the ridge
of the Guadalupes towards which the Pony Rider Boys were slowly drawing.
Ned called up to the professor who was riding at the head.

"Where are we going to make camp, Professor?"

"Tad will decide that," answered Professor Zepplin without looking back.

"Near a stream, of course," answered Butler.

"Any mosquitoes there?" demanded Stacy.

"No odds, if there are," retorted Ned. "They wouldn't bite you."

"Not if they had got at you first," returned Stacy solemnly. "There's
a level place in there by the creek."

"I see it. I'll ride on and have a closer look at it."

Butler spurred his pony ahead of the others. Reaching the foothills
of the range he shaded his eyes, gazing up into the cool, green valley
or canyon that led into the mountains.