"Have I?" grinned Bud. "What did you want me to do with them?"
"Take them with you, of course," answered Tad, as yet failing to understand the horse-hunter's plan.
"Don't you want them, kiddie?"
"Want them—want them?" stammered Tad.
"Yes. They're yours, yours and the fat boy's."
"Oh, no, no, Mr. Stevens! I couldn't think of such a thing."
"Master Tad is right," approved the Professor. "We have not the least claim in the world on those animals. We——"
"Say, Professor, who's running this side show?" demanded Bud.
"Why—why, of course it's your hunt, but——"
"All right then, seeing as it's my outfit, I've decided that I don't want the stallions. Look here! We'd have lost part of that bunch, at least, if it hadn't been for your kids. Master Tad alone saved the herd from scattering all over the Ralston Desert. No, sir, I'm getting off cheaply. The stallions belong to the boys, and that's all there is to be said. S'long everybody. Come up to Eureka on your way out, and if I don't cut the town wide open for you, my name ain't Bud Stevens."