"A Pu—-Pony Rider Boy."
"What are you doing here?"
"Ga—-gathering firewood."
"Who is your party?"
"Pro—-professor Ze—-Zep—-Zepplin and the boys," stammered the fat boy, trembling at the knees. "I haven't done anything, but I'm a bu—-bu—-bad man when I get ma—-mad."
The stern-faced stranger grinned appreciatively.
"You are not the fellows who came in at State Line the other day, are you?"
"Ye—-yes, we're the bu—-bu—-bunch."
"Oh, fudge!" groaned the stranger. "And to think I've been to all this trouble to round up a bunch of tenderfeet." The man thrust his revolver into its holster with a grunt of disgust.
"I'm Withem," he snapped.