"No, I didn't know anything about it," answered Uncle Fred. "But the cowboys often ride wild like that when they come in from their work and find visitors. They shoot off their revolvers, 'guns,' as they call them, and make as much noise as they can."
"What for?" asked Violet.
"Oh, just because they feel good, and they want to make everybody else feel good, too, I suppose."
"Will the Indians come?" asked Laddie hopefully.
"No, there aren't any Indians," his uncle told him. "At least not any around here now. Sometimes a few come from the reservation, but there's none here now."
The six little Bunkers watched the cowboys ride away to put their horses out to grass and wash themselves for supper, or "grub," or "chuck," or "chow," as they called it, giving the meals different names used according to the place where they had worked before.
"I'm glad they weren't Indians," said Laddie to Russ, as they went in the ranch house where Uncle Fred lived.
"Pooh! I wasn't afraid!" said Russ.
"No, I wasn't either," went on Laddie. "But I don't like Indians to come at you the first thing. I was glad they were cowboys."
"If they'd've been Indians I'd've lassoed 'em!" declared Russ.