"Good Indians, of course," nodded the Professor.
"Well, you know the old saying that 'the only good Indian is a dead Indian.' They're good when they have to be. We have very little trouble with the Crows, but sometimes the Black feet and Flat Heads get off their reservations and cause us a little trouble."
Chunky was listening with wide open eyes. "I—I don't like Indians," he stammered. "None of us are overfond of them, I guess. Since you arrived I have been thinking of something that may interest you."
"We are in your hands," smiled the Professor.
"As I said a short time ago, I have a ranch out near Gracy Butte."
"Cattle?" asked Tad, with quickened interest.
"No, sheep. I have another up on the Missouri River. I am getting in five thousand more sheep that some of my men are bringing in on a drive. They should be along very shortly now."
"You deal in large numbers in this country," smiled the Professor.
"Yes, we have to if we expect to make a profit. I intend to send these five thousand new sheep to the Missouri River ranch. It will be a long, hard drive and we shall need some extra men. How would you boys like to join the outfit and go through with them? I promise you you will get all the outdoor life you want."
"Well, I don't know," said Tad doubtfully. "I don't just like sheep."