could not imagine what it was. They tumbled out, shouting to each
other.

"What is it, Indians?" cried Stacy, dancing about in his pajamas.

"No, it's nothing but a mule with an overloaded stomach," answered Ned
turning back to his tent growling his disgust.

"Wish it wouldn't dream quite so loudly," grumbled Chunky.

When morning came, and still no tidings from either the Professor or
Tad, the boys began to realize the seriousness of their position.

"Something's got to be done, fellows," announced Ned Rector.

"I wonder if we could not shoot some game," suggested Walter.

"That's a good idea. But, is there any game here?"

"I heard an owl last night," said Stacy.

"We haven't got down to owls yet. We may when we get hungry enough,"
returned Ned. "I think I'll take my rifle and go out gunning."

"Do you think the Professor would like you to do that?" questioned
Walter.

"I am sure he would not wish us to starve. There must be some kind of
game in these mountains that's fit to eat. I'll shoot almost anything
that comes along."