"Jarred me a little, that's all. Why don't you go on and win the race?"
"Waiting for you," announced the fat boy laconically.
Walter swung into his saddle.
"Come on, then. Gid-ap!" he cried, shaking out the reins.
The two little animals sprang away like projectiles. But Stacy seemed not to be in his best form. He came in bobbing up and down, several lengths behind Walter.
"You won the race. I fell off," announced Walter, with his usual spirit of fairness.
"I guess not," drawled Stacy. "Now I'm going to do some stunts."
With that, the fat boy galloped out over the alkali again, riding off fully half a mile ahead of the party, where he jogged back and forth for a time, then began riding in a circle.
After a little they saw him toss his hat into the air ahead of him, and putting spurs to his pony dart under it, giving it a swift blow with his quirt, sending it spinning some distance away, at the same time uttering a shrill whoop.
"Thinks he's having the time of his life," grunted Ned.