"Depends upon the size of the torrent," retorted Rector.
"Was that one last night a single or a double r'd one?" inquired Stacy solemnly.
"I reckon it was a double r," laughed Butler. "You are safe in using two of them in this instance."
"Chunky's writing an article for the paper," suggested Walter mischievously.
"That's right. That's just what I am doing and that's where I get even with you fellows. I can have the last say—"
"Don't you use my name," snapped Ned. "I'm not looking for the kind of newspaper notoriety you would be likely to give a fellow. You tell them all you want to about Stacy Brown, but leave Ned Rector out of it."
"I have," answered the fat boy significantly.
"That's one for you, Ned," cried Tad. "But I wish you boys would keep quiet. I'm writing to Mother and she'll think something is the matter with me, for I've already written 'torrent' twice where it didn't belong and next thing I know I'll be putting in some of Chunky's stuff about last night. Do be quiet. If you don't want to write, go to sleep."
Stacy yawned broadly at the suggestion of sleep. He was ready for sleep at that moment, but his desire to tell the folks at home, through the medium of the weekly paper, through what an exciting experience the Pony Rider Boys had gone, outweighed all other emotions.
The boys had written for a half hour or more when suddenly a shot rang out somewhere off to the northwest. The lads glanced up inquiringly. At first they saw nothing of interest. Then a horseman swung into view, riding at a lively pace. As he drew near he began firing into the air from his revolver.