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"Better keep away from him, Ned." "Think I'll take the pink-eyed one," decided Tad. "Pink-eye. That will be a good name for him. Got a rope?" "Yes, kin you rope him?" "I'll try if you will stir them up a bit," answered the freckle-faced boy. "You might as well pick out our ponies, too," observed the Professor. "You are the only one of our party who is a competent judge of horse flesh."
Tad pondered over this problem some moments. "I know," he cried. "I'll hitch a rope to him and make Pink-eye tow him out. But where is that pony?" All at once the realization came to him that the pony had thrown him off. That was the last he had seen of Pink-eye. Tad whistled and called, listening after each attempt without the slightest result. "He's gone.
No sooner had he fired the first shot, than the bear sprang to its feet and sped away up a steep bank. Tad noticed that the bear's rolling had extinguished some of the fire, but he knew that it was still burrowing in the beast's fur, causing him great agony. "I am too far away to hit him. I've got to get closer," decided the boy. "Pink-eye, do you think you can make that climb?"
"Say, what ails you?" demanded Tad, putting down by supreme force of will, his own inclination to yawn. "I I guess yah it must be the the mountain air. Yah-hum," yawned the fat boy. Pink-eye coughed off among the cedars. "What means all this disturbance, young gentlemen?" demanded the Professor. "It's Chunky and the bronchos yawning," Ned Rector informed him. "So did you," observed Stacy Brown.
Bluff leaped from his pony and struck a match. Tad's mount lay dying in the brush. "There's no one here," said Bluff, his face working nervously. Of Tad Butler there was no sign. He had disappeared utterly. "There's Pink-eye!" exclaimed Ned Rector. "Is it possible?" answered the Professor. "Then something has happened to Tad."
Below stood Flap Sharper with the other half-brick in his hand. Arm drawn back. No other boy in sight. The two halves fitted exactly. It certainly looked like it. Poor old Flap found that it felt like it, too. But he had never chucked that half-brick. Ogilvie did it. Remember him? The one we called Pink-eye. Have a drink? "I offered Sharper my sympathy. Wouldn't have it.
He heard a sudden startled exclamation. At that instant, Pink-eye, alarmed by the unusual movement on his back, awakened and leaped lightly to one side. "I've got him," breathed the boy, feeling the line draw tight under his hand. "I've caught a man I " Pink-eye had discovered the presence of strangers now and with a snort he changed his position by again leaping to one side.
From whatever point I viewed the prospect that pink spot seemed to intrude; I turned my back and examined the jungle, but there it was repeated in a hundred pink blossoms among the massed thickets; I looked up into the tree-tops, where pink mosses spotted the palms; I looked out over the lake, and I saw it in my mind's eye pinker than ever. It was certainly a case of pink-eye.
He had no more than returned when Tad came dashing up on Pink-eye. "Where is he? Do you see him?" "Over there, I can see the fire in the bushes," answered Ned Rector. "Quick, give me the gun," demanded Tad. "Wait, I'll go with you," said Ned. "No, remain where you are," ordered Professor Zepplin. "Some of you will surely be shot. Thaddeus, remember, you are not to go far from camp.
Tad did not try to guide Pink-eye any more, but let him follow the others, and when he got a little out of his course, the pony next to him would crowd Pink-eye over where he belonged. "Seems to me we are a long time getting there," announced the boy finally. He was beginning to grow uneasy again. "Come camp bymeby," informed the young Indian. "Chief, him know way."
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