"I never
knew I could do that. I reckon. I'll be having some fun with this
outfit. Yes, I'll try it on right now."
Stacy spurred his pony close up to the leaders. The lad's face was
solemn, but it shone like an Eskimo's after a full meal of blubber.
Ned Rector was next ahead of the fat boy. Chunky pretended not to
see Rector. Riding close up to him, the fat boy softly gave his
rattlesnake imitation.
Ned Rector made a high dive, landing head first in a thicket of
mesquite brush, while his pony was left kicking and bucking on the
trail. Stacy was having more trouble with his own pony.
"Whoa, there, you fool! Whoa! What's got into this beastly pinto?"
howled the fat boy.
"That's what I'd like to know too," snapped the captain, wheeling his
horse, giving the fat boy a quick, sharp glance.
Ned, having picked himself out of the mesquite bush, was limping back.
"You hit him, Stacy Brown!" shouted Rector.
"I never touched him. What's the matter with you?" protested Chunky
indignantly.
"No quarreling, boys," warned the professor.
"Well, he doesn't want to be poking my pony!"
"Well, he doesn't want to be accusing me of poking his old bundle of
bones."
"Pretty lively critter for a bundle of bones, I should say," answered
the captain grimly.
"Nobody trailing," announced the scouts returning a few minutes later.
The captain may have had a suspicion, but if so he kept it to himself,
making no reply to the report of his two scouts.
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