"After you have finished your breakfast I want you to start in and
look for Master Butler. You'll have to find a way to get down there,
even if you have to wade in the stream--"
"Spirits git um boy."
"We will leave that out of the question. You find him, that's all."
"He won't go down there," said Ned. "He may say he will, but he
won't."
"I'll see that he does," replied the Professor, with a firm closing of
the lips. "I have trifled long enough. Now we shall do something.
I--"
"Well, what's all the excitement about?" demanded a cheery voice
behind them.
"Tad! It's Tad!" shouted the boys in chorus.
With yells of delight they pounced upon him and for a moment there was
a regular football scrimmage, with Tad Butler at the bottom of the
heap, the others mauling him about with shouts of glee.
It was the Pony Rider Boys' way of showing their delight at the return
of their companion. But Tad did not mind it at all. Throwing them
off with a prodigious effort he scrambled to his feet, dust-covered,
hatless and with hair in a sad state of disorder.
Professor Zepplin had thrust the other boys aside and was gripping
Tad's hands.
"It's the last time you ever get me to consent to your taking such a
chance," he said. "How did you get out? You certainly did not climb
up the side of the mountain.
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