"'Bout a mile as the hawk flies. We'll be there in a jiffy."
It appeared that all arrangements had been made by Mr. Perkins for the stock, through a bank in Flagstaff, where he had deposited funds to cover the purchase of stock and stores for the trip through the Canyon. This the Professor understood. There remained little for the boys to do except for each to pick out the pony be fancied.
They looked over the mustangs in the corral, asking the owner about this and that one.
"I'll take that one," said Chunky, indicating a mild-eyed pinto that stood apparently half asleep.
The owner of the herd of mustangs smiled.
"Kind and sound, isn't he?" questioned the fat boy.
"Oh, he's sound all right."
"Do you know how to handle a pinto, boy?" questioned Nance.
"Do I? Of course I do. Haven't I been riding the toughest critters on the ranges of the Rockies for years and years? Don't I know how to rope anything that ambles on four legs? Well, I guess! Gimme that rope. I'll show you how to fetch a sleepy pinto out of his dreams."
The black that Chunky coveted seemed, at that moment, to have opened his eyes ever so little, then permitted the eyelids to droop. It was not a good sign as Tad viewed it, and the Pony Rider was an excellent horseman.