This seemed to be good judgment, so the boys hastened to saddle the
Professor's mount, and in a few moments he was jogging away as rapidly
as the uneven ground would permit, his eyes fixed on the distant
spiral of smoke curling lazily upward.

"Guess we had better follow as fast as we can," suggested Tad.

"Chunky, get busy. What are you standing around with your hands in
your pockets for while Rome is burning?" shouted Ned Rector. "Hurry
up! Take down those tents, pack all the stuff over to the mules
and--"

"And what are you going to do while I'm doing that?" drawled Stacy.

"Me? I'm going to boss the job. What did you suppose I was going to
do?"

"Oh, that's about what I thought you would be doing. I'll pack my own
stuff. You can leave yours here for all I care," laughed the fat boy,
sauntering to his tent without the least attempt to hurry.

"Don't tease him so," advised Tad in a low voice.

"What, tease Chunky Brown? You couldn't tease Chunky with a club. I
just say those things to get him started. He says such funny things."

Nevertheless, the camp was struck in record time that morning, and the
pack mules loaded so rapidly that they turned back their soulful eyes
in mild protest.