"We have one," replied Hippy briefly.
"I don't see none. Who be he?"
"Name's Hindenburg," said Hippy, pointing to the bull pup. "Greatest little guide west of the Atlantic Ocean. I paid a thousand dollars for his bark alone. The breeder threw in the rest of the dog because, when you peel the bark off a tree, it dies."
Emma Dean uttered a high, trilling laugh, and the other girls joined in so heartily that, for a moment, or so, work came to a standstill. Hippy then briskly attacked the packs, while Tom secured them to the backs of the ponies.
While this was being done Grace left the party to buy food sufficient to last for at least a two-days' journey, and returned with her arms full of bundles, the contents being transferred to the mess kits of her companions.
"Are you going to let the dog run?" questioned Anne.
"I am not. He rides horseback," replied Hippy briefly. "I am a man of resources."
"Especially in leading educated ponies," murmured Emma.
In the meantime, Hippy had taken a canvas bag from his pack and hung it over the pommel of his saddle.
"Come, Little Hindenburg. We will now go bye-bye," cooed Hippy, lifting the bull pup, depositing it in the open bag, and tying the dog's lead string to the saddle.