CHUNKY'S NEW IDEA
Three of the ponies, they found, had been knocked down and so severely shocked that they were only just beginning to regain consciousness.
"Why didn't you tell us?" demanded Ned, turning on Stacy savagely.
"You wouldn't let me. Maybe next time I've got an idea, you'll stop and listen."
Kris Kringle's face wore a broad grin.
"Master Stacy is right. He tried hard enough to tell us," he said.
Chunky was humming blithely as the party set out next morning. He was pretty well satisfied with himself, for had he not been through a prairie fire, knocked a savage Apache off his horse, saved himself and his companions, besides having just escaped from being struck by lightning? Stacy swelled out his chest and held his chin a little bit higher than usual.
"Chunky's got a swelled head," said Ned, nodding in the direction of the fat boy.
"Swelled chest, you mean," laughed Walter. "Nobody has a better right. Chunky isn't half as big a fool as he'd have everybody believe. When we think we are having lots of fun with him he's really having sport with us. And those Indians— say, Ned, do you think they will bother us any more?"
"Ask Chunky," retorted Ned. "He's the oracle of the party."