buck with flaming face. Tad would have struck the Indian had
Nance not been on the spot. With a powerful hand he thrust Tad behind
him, saying something in the Indian language to Afraid Of His Face,
which caused the buck to smile faintly and proceed on his mission.

"If you had struck him you never would have gotten out of here alive,"
whispered the guide. Stacy had been a witness to the proceeding. He
smiled sarcastically when Tad came back to where the fat boy was
standing.

"Folks who live in glass houses, should not shy rocks," observed the
fat boy wisely.

By that time the squaws were setting out corn cakes, dried peaches and
a heap of savory meat that was served on a bark platter. The meal was
spread on a bright blanket regardless of the fact that grease from the
meat was dripping over the beautiful piece of weaving. The boys thought
it a pity to see so wonderful a piece of work ruined so uselessly, but
they made no comment. Then all sat down, the Indians squatting on
their haunches, while the white men seated themselves on the ground.
There were neither knives nor forks. Fingers were good enough for the
noble red man.

First, before beginning the meal, the Kohot lighted a great pipe and
took a single puff. Then he passed it to Professor Zepplin, who, with
a sheepish look at the Pony Rider Boys, also took a puff.

Stacy came next. The chief handed the pipe to the fat boy in person.
Stacy's face flushed.

"Thank you, but I don't smoke," he said politely. The lines of the
chief's face tightened. It was an insult to refuse to smoke the pipe
of peace when offered by the Kohot.

CHAPTER XXI

CHUNKY GETS A TURKISH BATH

"Put it to your lips. You don't have to smoke it," whispered Dad. "It
won't do to refuse."

Stacy placed the stem to his lips, then, to the amazement of his
fellows, drew heavily twice, forcing the smoke right down into his
lungs.

Stacy's face grew fiery red, his cheeks puffed out. Smoke seemed to
be coming out all over him. Ned declared afterwards that Stacy must
be porous, for the smoke came out of his pockets. Then all of a
sudden the fat boy coughed violently, and tumbled over backwards,
choking, strangling, howling, while the Professor hammered him between
the shoulders with the flat of his hand.

"You little idiot, why did you draw any of the stuff in?" whispered
Professor Zepplin.

"Da---Da---Dad to---to---told me to! Ackerchew! Oh, wow!"

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