"I guess we'd better not tie her, but let her follow," said
Jack. "As soon as we have gone a little ways she'll come to think
the wagon is home, and stick to it."
"Yes," I said. "I think she is really as great a tramp as
Snoozer, and just the pony for us." "Are we all tramps?" asked
Ollie.
"Well," said Jack, "I'm afraid Grandpa Oldberry thinks we
don't lack much of it. He says varmints will catch us."
"Do you think they will?" went on Ollie, just a little bit
anxiously.
"Oh, I guess not," said Jack. "You see, we've got four guns.
Then there's Snoozer."
"But will they try to catch us?"
"Well, I don't know. Grandpa Oldberry says the varmints are
awfully thick this fall."
"But what are varmints?"
"Oh, wolves, and b'ars, and painters, and--"
"What are painters?"
"Grandpa means panthers, I guess. Then there's Injuns, and
hoss-thieves, and--"
"There's a prairie-chicken!" I cried, as one rose up out of
the long grass.
"Perhaps we can get one for dinner," said Jack.
[Illustration: Mutiny of the Pony]
He took his gun and went slowly toward where the other had
been.
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