"It ain't, neither," asseverated Bud. "It's a bully little ole pet coon. That's what it is."
He held out his hand, and the coon, making a queer little chuckling noise, came slowly toward him as he held out his finger, which the sharp-eyed little beast clasped in its fingerlike paw and pulled.
Bud reached out, tucked it under his arm, and climbed down with it.
"This yere coon was a pet ter ther fellers what rid line yere before," said Bud, when they were in the cabin again. "He's been hangin' eround ever since, an' when he saw us he thought it wuz his ole pardners come back. He's been taught ter swipe hats an' drop 'em down inter ther house through ther chimbley hole. That accounts fer it, an' I reckon he's ther whole ghost."
"Yah, mebbe I dinks so," said Carl, who looked rather sheepish at his exhibition of fear.
"He's a smart little piece," said Ted. "By the way, Carl, get busy with the pots and pans. I'm going to stay to supper and sleep here to-night. I've got the cattle and the boys planted, and it is too far to go on to the ranch house to-night. Stella and Kit went back an hour ago."
Carl went to work to cook supper, while Bud played with the coon, which was as full of tricks as a monkey, and kept the boys laughing all the time.
"A coon is a mighty smart animile," said Bud as they sat down to supper.
"So I've heard," said Ted. "But I've never seen many of them."
"Dere is no such beast in Chermany," Carl put in proudly.