"If you chanced to capture a good one, yes. The poor stock, however, has been pretty well taken up, so that the horses on the ranges now are splendid specimens."
"Anybody want to run a race?" interrupted Stacy, riding up near the head of the procession.
"Too hot," answered Tad.
"Just the kind of a day for a horse race. I'll run any of you to see who cooks the supper," persisted Stacy.
"Oh, go back with the burros. I wouldn't eat any supper that you cooked, anyway."
"I'll remember that, Ned. Well, if none of you has spunk enough to race with me, I'll run a race with myself."
"That a dare?" questioned Walter.
Stacy nodded, blinking his blackened eye nervously.
Walter shook out the reins.
"Come on, then. I suppose you won't be satisfied until you've gotten into more trouble. Where do you want to race to?"