him to be suffering. Still back of them rode three other young
men, the last in the line being a disconsolate fat figure of a boy who
slouched from side to side in his saddle, each lurch threatening to
precipitate him to the ground. The boy's pony was dragging along
with nose close to the earth, the bridle rein slipping lower and lower
over the animal's neck. The fat boy was plainly asleep. He had been
slumbering in the saddle for more than an hour, and occasional
mutterings indicated that he was dreaming.

"Professor, don't you think we had better make camp and take a rest?"
asked the first boy in the line, addressing the grizzled leader.

Professor Zepplin cast a critical glance down the line of jaded horses
and riders, a faint smile twitching the corners of his mouth.

"All tired out, eh, Tad?" he questioned.

"Yes, I'll confess that I am for once. Of course I can stand it as
long as the next one, but there's no use in wearing out the stock,"
answered Tad Butler. "Chunky's asleep. Ned and Walter will be in a
few minutes more."

"Very good; call a halt. We will ride into the bushes over there on
the other side of the stream. The water cannot be deep. Some hot
coffee will wake us all up."

"Hoo---oo!" cried Tad, interrupting the professor. "Wake up, fellows,
and make camp!"

"Wha---what's up?" demanded Ned Rector, straightening in his saddle.

"Nothing's up, except ourselves, and we'll all be down in a minute.
We're going to ford the stream and make camp on the other side."

"Is this the Guadalupe range?" asked Walter Perkins sleepily.

"This is the loop all right, but not the Guadalupe," laughed Rector.
"Hullo, Chunky's in the Land of Nod."

"Wake him up, Ned," nodded Tad.

"Not much. Let him wake himself up."

"His pony has gone to sleep, too," added Walter.

"Yes, they are a couple of sleepy heads, Tad."

As the lads turned to gaze at the fat boy, they could not repress a
shout of laughter. Stacy Brown's pony now stood the picture of
dejection, its nose clear to the ground. Chunky had settled in his
saddle until it seemed that the boy was less than half his natural
height. His body had fairly telescoped itself. The fat boy sat
leaning forward, his sombrero tipped forward until it covered his face,
leaving only the point of the chin exposed.

By this time Professor Zepplin had driven his own pony into the creek,
the others following, where the horses drank greedily. Stacy and his