"For goodness' sake, how much further have we to go?" begged Ned.
"The general store is down at the end of the street," the guide informed him. "I presume you want to get some clothes the first thing?"
"I should say so."
A whoop and a yell sounded far down the street.
"Here's trouble," muttered Tad, instantly recognizing the cowboy yell.
A band of them at that instant swung around a corner, straightening out in the main street, letting go a volley of revolver shots into the air. The band had come to town with a shipment of wild horses that had been captured among the desert ranges. They had been in Eureka for twenty-four hours and were by this time ready for whatever might turn up. The horsemen clad in pink pajamas attracted their attention at once. Here was fair game.
"Who-o-o-o-p-e-e-e!"
The shrill cry sent a shiver to the hearts of the boys. It was not a shiver of fear, either.
In a moment more the Pony Rider Boys were the center of a ring of racing ponies, as the horse-hunters dashed round and round, yelling like mad and firing off their revolvers.
"Oh, see that purty boy with the pink toes!" jeered one.