"Fine!" glowed Chunky. "But, what kind of a club? They don't have horses in clubs."
"We shall, in this one. That is, we shall be the club, and the ponies will be our club-house. When we are on our ponies' backs we shall be in our club-house. Maybe we can get Ned Rector to join us. He knows how to ride—why, he rides almost as well as Tad."
Chunky nodded thoughtfully.
"What shall we call it? We must have some kind of a name for the club."
"I hadn't thought of that. I'll tell you what," exclaimed Walter, brightening, after a moment's consideration. "We will call ourselves the Rough Riders. That's what we will do, Chunky."
"Yes, but we are not rough riders," protested Chunky. "We are only beginners; that is, all of us except Tad, and he can't join us—just because he's too poor to have a horse. As for us—humph! We'd be rough riders only when we fell off!"
Walter laughed heartily.
"No," he admitted. "I guess we are not rough riders yet; but we may be some day, after we've learned to ride better. I can't think of any other name, can you?"
"We might call ourselves the Wild Riders," suggested Chunky.
"No, that won't do, either. It's as bad as the other name. Father'd never let me go out at all if we called ourselves the Wild Riders, because he would think it meant we were going to be too much like cowboys. I guess we shall have to think it over some more. But here comes Tad back. Suppose we ask him? He'll know what to call the club."