“Is that your name?” asked Ned.
“It’s my Indian one,” was the answer, “but at the school I am known as Paul Rader. Now let me bid you good day, and a pleasant journey.”
Then, before they could ask him to take a ride with them, the boys saw the Indian leap on his pony, from which Bob had dismounted, and ride away at a smart gallop, his blanket flying out behind him in the wind.
“Well, that’s the limit!” exclaimed Ned. “To think of a wild-civilized Indian playing a trick like that.”
“I certainly thought he was as wild as they come,” put in Bob. “I was afraid it was all up with us.”
Then the professor appeared and they told him the story.
“I wish I had met him,” said the professor.
“What for; did you know him?” asked Jerry.
“No, but he would probably be able to tell me where to get some fine specimens,” remarked the scientist.
In a short time they were all in the auto again, and were bowling along over the table land, the machine humming in a way that told that the cylinders were working well. They camped for supper, and then, as it was a fine moon light night they determined to continue on slowly, as they wanted to make up for lost time.