Not far away he heard the sound of the pony's footsteps approaching.
Bill was an old cow-puncher, and he knew instantly that the pony was
tired, and that he was under saddle, and also that the saddle was
occupied.
The footsteps came nearer, and just as they were close to the camp
daylight came on with a rush, as it does on the plains, and Bill gave a
great shout of joy which brought every puncher in camp scrambling out of
his blankets, for there rode in a very tired little boy on a very tired
little, pony.
The boy was pale and tired from hunger and his long hours in the saddle,
and it was all the pony could do to stagger in.
"It's little Dick," shouted Bud. "Well, jumpin' sand hills, whar
you-all been all night? Takin' a leetle pleasure pasear?"
"Oh, Bud, I'm so tired and hungry," said Dick, as Bud lifted him from
the saddle.
"Here you, Bill, git busy in a hurry. This kid ain't hed nothin' ter eat
in a week. He's 'most starved. Bile yer coffee double-quick, an' git up
a mess o' bacon an' flapjacks pretty dern pronto, if yer don't want me
ter git inter yer wool.
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