The Pony Rider Boys in the Rockies; Or, The Secret of the Lost Claim

Produced by Kent Fielden
Oh, let me get up. Let me ride him for two minutes, Walter.
Walter Perkins brought his pony to a slow stop and glanced down hesitatingly into the pleading blue eyes of the freckle-faced boy at his side.
Please! I'll only ride him up to the end of the block and back, and I won't go fast, either. Let me show you how I can ride him, urged Tad Butler, with a note of insistence in his voice.
If I thought you wouldn't fall off——
I fall off? sniffed Tad, contemptuously. I'd like to see the pony that could bounce me off his back. Huh! Guess I know how to ride better than that. Say, Chunky, remember the time when the men from Texas had those ponies here—brought them here to sell?
Chunky—the third boy of the group—nodded vigorously.
And didn't I ride a broncho that never had had a saddle on his back but once in his life? Say, did I get thrown then?
He did that, endorsed Stacy Brown, who, because of his well-rounded cheeks and ample girth, was known familiarly among his companions as Chunky. I mean, he didn't. And he rode the pony three times around the baseball field, too. That broncho's back was humped up like a mad cat's all the way around. 'Course Tad can ride. Wish I could ride half as well as he does. You needn't be afraid, Walter.
Thus reassured by Chunky's praise, Walter dropped the bridle rein over the neck of his handsome new pony, and slid slowly to the ground.
All right, Tad. Jump up! But don't hold him too tightly. He doesn't like it, and, besides, he has been trained to run when you tighten up on the rein, and father would not like it if we were to race him in the village.
I'll be careful.