“Bully fer you, me boy,” said Pat. “It’s a thoroughbred ye are, fer sure.”
“The kid’s all right,” said Jim encouragingly; “he stuck to that buckin’ bronk like a tick. He’ll stick to anything. Come,” he added, spurring up, “let’s hit the trail; it’s long after bunk time.”
“Yis, and when ye tuck yourselves in the blankets, make sure ye say yer prayers twice,” called Pat, as they struck a livelier pace. “Thank the Lord we’re all gettin’ home to-night without punctures in our hides.”
A few moments later they had all tumbled into their beds in the old shack. But it was some time before either of the boys had worried through their troubled thoughts and fallen asleep. Dick kept nursing his bitterness against his companion into a real hate, and he seized every opportunity thereafter to express his mean feelings by ridiculing and injuring Fred in every way he could.
Chapter IX
AFTER THE BALL
THE sun found a sleepy crowd at breakfast next morning. The boys had life enough, however, to hector one another about the fun of the night before.
“It’s hip, hooray for the Mormon lassies,” chirruped Pat, as he banged about among his cooking utensils.
“And how about the Mormon beer, Chuck?” asked Dick.
“Dry, dry, dry,” he sang dolefully, “dry as—”
“Their bloomin’ prayers,” put in Dick; “did you hear that long-faced old elder bawl to the Lord for blessings? I thought he’d never quit; but Teddy here took it like a saint. The kid’s pious enough to show ’em the way to glory.”