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Updated: June 27, 2025
"Guess I know how to ride as well as the rest of you." "All right, it's not my lookout. Remember I gave you good advice," was Ned's parting admonition. Stacy's pony was a glossy black, the only one of that color among the contestants, and between pony and boy the cowmen were undecided as to which was the most conspicuous. "At the second shot of the pistol you will start," announced the foreman.
He had never known Stacy's real motive for that act, both Demorest and Stacy had kept their knowledge of the attempted robbery from their younger partner, it always seemed to him to be a precious revelation of Stacy's inner nature.
It was a time for quick action. Leading Chunky to the heap, which lay under a projecting ledge of rock some four feet from the floor, Tad forced his companion over behind the pile, then himself crawled in, puffing the blankets over them. Stacy's teeth were still chattering. "Stop it!" commanded Tad, giving the fat boy a violent pinch. This time Chunky did say "ouch!"
"Now get that saddle off," commanded Tad. "Come, Chunky! Do you think we are going to wait here all day for you?" The fat boy reluctantly obeyed the command of Tad Butler. After some further trouble, Stacy's pony was properly saddled, but still stubborn and ready for further trouble.
"Lucky I got there when I did." Stacy's eyes opened wide and his face blanched. "A a bob-cat?" they gasped. "Yes; I put a shot into him, but it did not kill kill him! Hear him squall?" the guide made answer. "Well of all the idiotic things I ever heard of!" exclaimed Ned, gazing at Chunky in bewilderment. "Yes; it was all of that," grinned Lige. Wake up, fellows!
With the exception of these trifling frictions, work in Miss Stacy's little kingdom went on with regularity and smoothness. The winter weeks slipped by. It was an unusually mild winter, with so little snow that Anne and Diana could go to school nearly every day by way of the Birch Path.
You see she got up an awful lot of side when I told her I didn't reckon to run a smelting furnace in a wooden hotel with the thermometer at one hundred in the office, and I reckon it was just an excuse for getting off in a hurry." But the continued delay in Stacy's promised telegram had begun to work upon Demorest's usual equanimity, and he scarcely listened in his anxiety for his old partner.
"Pity some other folks not more'n a million miles away wouldn't fall over," muttered Stacy. "What's that you say?" demanded Ned, turning on him. "I I was just thinking to myself," explained Chunky, edging away. Ned was glaring at him ferociously, at the same time struggling to keep back the laughter that rose to his lips because of Stacy's sharp retort.
The faces of all wore serious expressions. They had not looked for anything quite so lively as this. It was not the first time the Pony Rider Boys had smelled powder when the powder was being expended on them, but they liked it none the better for past experiences. Stacy's cheek was bleeding again. He was holding his handkerchief to the wound and his face was a little paler than usual.
We will divide the two spoons between the three of us," said Ned, with a twinkle in Stacy's direction. But his levity did not disturb the fat boy in the least. After having had his plate heaped with beans and bacon, Stacy calmly took from his pocket two sharp sticks that he had cut and trimmed just before supper.
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