The car, instead of holding the slim-limbed, sleek ponies of the Overland outfit, was filled with huge draft horses, such as one sees exhibited at county fairs in the east.
“Mr. Agent, they have dropped the wrong car here. These are not our animals,” declared Hippy.
“I can’t help that,” replied the agent.
“Young man, you march right back to your office and send out a general alarm for one car of ponies missing, and tell your superiors that we shall hold them responsible for the delivery of our animals before night to-day,” warned Hippy. “Get busy.”
The agent said he could do nothing, but Hippy was of a different opinion, and led the agent to the telegraph office where the Overlander sent a peremptory message to the general superintendent.
This done the Overland Riders began looking about for a place to eat and to spend the day and night. They finally found quarters at a hotel, but, after looking the place over, they decided to go into camp. Fortunately, all their equipment had been shipped as baggage, so, hiring a man and a wagon, they had the equipment drawn to the edge of the little town where they pitched their tents and began preparing camp, not knowing how long it might be before they got their ponies.
Many of the villagers followed the party out and observed the process of camp-making with keen interest.
“Government party?” questioned the postmaster.
“No,” answered Lieutenant Wingate shortly.
“We are out for a pleasure trip through the Park,” Grace informed him.