"Wrangler? What's a wrangler?" demanded Stacy, delaying the progress of a large slice of bacon, which hung suspended from the fork half-way between plate and mouth.
"A wrangler's a wrangler," answered Big-foot stolidly.
"He's a fellow who's all the time making trouble, isn't he?" asked Stacy innocently.
"Oh, no, this kind of a wrangler isn't," laughed the foreman. "The trouble is usually made for him, and it's served up hot off the spider. The horse wrangler is the fellow who goes out and rounds up the ponies. Sometimes he does it in the middle of the night when the thunder and lightning are smashing about him like all possessed, and the cattle are on the rampage. He's a trouble-curer, not a troublemaker, except for himself."
"I guess there are some words that aren't in the dictionary," laughed Tad.
"I think you will find them all there, Master Tad, if you will consult the big book," said the Professor.
The meal was soon finished, Pong having stood rubbing his palms, a happy smile on his face, during the time they were eating.
"A very fine breakfast, sir," announced the Professor, looking up at the Chinaman.
"He knows what would happen to him if he didn't serve good meals," smiled Stallings.
"What do you mean?" asked Ned Rector.