"I'm going back," howled the fat boy. "I didn't come up here to climb
slumbering volcanoes."

"I'll tell you what I'll do, I'll carry you, Stacy," said Tad, smiling
and nodding toward the cinder-blackened face of his companion.

"You mean it?"

"Of course I mean it."

"I guess I can walk. I'm not quite so big a baby as that."

"I thought so. Have your fun. If you get into trouble you know your
friend, Tad Butler, is always on the job."

"You bet I do. But this is an awful climb."

It was all of that. One step upward often meant a slide of several short
steps backward. The Professor's face was red, and unuttered words were
upon his lips. Jim Nance was grinning broadly, his whiskers bobbing up
and down as he stumbled up the side of Old Sunset.

"I reckon the tenderfeet will get enough of it before they get to the
Canyon," chuckled the guide.

"Say, Mr. Nance, we don't want to Mister you all the time. What shall
we call you for short?" asked Tad Butler.

"Anything you want."