"Well, I guess, seeing as how the little lady doesn't like scary stories, I'd better tell one that isn't. We must please the ladies, you know, Teddy."
"Oh, yes, I know that," the little boy said. "But after you tell the not-scary story, Mr. Baldy, couldn't you tell me one that is scary—a real, terrible scary one. You can take me out behind the barn where Jan can't hear it."
"Well, maybe I could do that," agreed the good-natured cowboy, laughing at the Curlytops. "Now then for the not-scary story."
"And you don't have to take Teddy out behind the barn to tell him the scary one," put in Janet. "You could stay here, and I could cover up my ears with my hands when you came to the terrible parts, couldn't I? Is there any parts in it that isn't scary? I'd like to hear them, Mr. Baldy."
"Well, I guess we can fix it that way," said the cowboy. "Now the first story I'm going to tell you, is how I was captured by the Indians," and the children sat closer to him and waited eagerly.
"Once upon a time," said Baldy, "a lot of Indians lived not far from the house where I lived."
"Weren't you afraid?" asked Janet.
"Please don't ask questions till he tells the story," begged Teddy.
"All right," agreed his sister, and Baldy went on:
"No, I wasn't much afraid, or if I was I've forgotten it now, as it was quite a while ago. Anyhow, one day I was out on the prairie, picking flowers, I think, for I know I used to like flowers, and, all of a sudden, along came a lot of Indians on horses, and one of them picked me up and took me right away with him, on the horse in front of him.