"What d'ye say if we call you Whiskers?" called Stacy.

"Stacy!" rebuked the Professor sternly.

"Oh, let the little tenderfoot rant. He's harmless. Call me Whiskers,
if it does ye any good."

"I'm no tenderfoot," protested Chunky.

"Nor be I all whiskers," returned the guide, whereat Chunky's face
turned red.

"I guess we'll call you Dad, for you'll have to be our dad for some time
to come," decided Tad.

"That'll be all right, providing it suits the fat little tenderfoot."

Stacy did not reply to this. He was having too much trouble to keep
right side up just then to give heed to anything else.

"Go zig-zag. You'll never get to the top this way," called Tad. "You
know how a switchback railroad works? Well, go as nearly like a
switch-back as possible."

"That's a good idea," agreed Dad. "You'll get there quicker, as the
young gentleman says."

Tad looked at his companions, grinning broadly. As they got nearer to
the top the color of the cinders changed from black to a brick red.
They began to understand why the peak of Sunset always presented such