“No, no. I just wanted to say something,” returned Stacy, hastily stirring himself into activity and jumping on the bare back of his pony. No sooner was he on than he was off again, for the pony had never been ridden without a saddle, and promptly bucked when his owner mounted. Stacy landed flat on his back in the campfire, sending up a shower of sparks and smoke, and it was only the quick action of Nora Wingate that saved him from being burned. As it was, his clothing was smoking when he was dragged out. Hippy and Tom put Stacy’s fire out by grabbing the boy up and throwing him in the creek, where Stacy rolled over whooping and howling his disapproval of the entire proceeding.
“You should have known better than to try to ride that pony without a saddle,” rebuked Hippy.
Stacy turned angrily on his now meek-eyed pony.
“You donkey! Oh, you doddering idiot!” he raged, shaking a fist at the animal. “You’ll pay for that! You’ll rue the day and the minute that you bucked me off your back. Where is my saddle?”
“Never mind. I will get the ponies,” grinned Hippy. “You aren’t fit.”
“I am. I’m always fit. I’ll get ’em myself.”
“Be sure to bring back the donkey,” teased Emma.
Stacy cinched on his saddle before starting, and this time the little animal offered no protest, but galloped away as docile as could be desired. After he had left them, the Overlanders had a good laugh at his expense, then began packing in preparation for the day’s journey.
The Overlanders finally began to wonder what had become of Stacy, for he had been absent much longer than seemed necessary, then, all at once they heard a yell on the opposite side of the canyon.
“There he is! He is in trouble again,” cried Tom, starting for his own pony.