Tad was unusually muscular for his years, to which was added no little skill as wrestler. The Indian soon discovered both these qualities. And, at about that time, the lad was resorting to every trick he knew to place the Indian in a position where he could be thrown.
The moment came with disconcerting suddenness, and Mr. Redman uttered a loud grunt as he landed on the ground, flat on his back. With a spring he lifted himself up, and the next instant he had thrown the slight figure of the Pony Rider Boy so heavily that everything about Tad grew black. He felt himself going. Then all at once he lost consciousness.
When finally he awakened, Tad found a figure still bending over him.
Quick as a flash the boy's arms went up, encircling the neck of the man kneeling by him. The next instant the fellow was on his back, with Tad sitting on his chest.
"Here, here! What's the matter with you?" gasped a muffled voice, which Tad instantly recognized.
"Kris Kringle!" he gasped.
"Yes; and you nearly knocked the breath out of me," grinned the guide, struggling to his feet. "Well, you certainly are a whirlwind."
"I—I thought you were the Indian," mattered Tad in a sheepish tone.
"If it had been, there would have been no need for my interference."
"Where is he?"