When the pony came up to the wagon she stopped so
suddenly that Ollie went over her head. But he still clung to the
weed, and struck the ground inside of it. He jumped up, still in
the weed, so that it now looked like a hay-stack on two legs. We
pulled him out of it, and found him none the worse for his
adventure. But he was a little frightened, and said:
[Illustration: Studying Botany]
"I don't think I'll chase those things again, Uncle Jack--not
with that pony."
"Oh, that's all right, Ollie," said Jack. "I'm going to
organize the Nebraska Cross-Country Tumbleweed Club, and you'll
want to come to the meets. We'll give the weed one minute start,
and the first man that catches it will get a prize of--of a
watermelon, for instance."
"Well, I think I'll take another horse before I try it,"
returned Ollie.
"Might try Old Browny," I said. "If he ever came up to a
tumbleweed he would lie right down on it and go to sleep."
"Yes, and Blacky would hold it with one foot and eat it up,"
said Jack. "Unless he took a notion to turn around and kick it
out of existence.
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