"If I knew I wouldn't be asking you, would I?"
This line of reasoning seemed to strike Jim Abs forcibly, for he nodded his head until Chunky feared the storekeeper would dislocate his neck.
"Where are they?"
"I reckon they're on their way to Smoky Bald."
"Smoky Bald? On their way to Smoky Bald?" shouted the fat boy.
"Sure. Didn't you know that?"
Chunky regarded the storekeeper keenly for a few seconds, then bolted out through the door. Shading his eyes he gazed off across the plateau. There in the far distance he could just make out a body of horsemen jogging along.
"Is—is that my crowd?" he demanded, turning to the grinning faces of the mountaineers.
"I reckon it is, boss," answered one.
"That's what I call a mean trick!" shouted the fat boy, making a dash for his pony. In the meantime the pony had been moved around to the other side of the store. Chunky howled when he failed to find the animal where he had left it, and it was some five minutes later when he discovered the horse. It did not take the boy many seconds to leap into the saddle, and urging his horse he went dashing off across the plain in pursuit of his party, shouting and occasionally shooting up into the air to attract their attention.