"But all of this lot are genuine. Nobody had to prance around a tree with a dead yellow dog on his feet, pretending to chase after him," asserted Will.
"Whose doing was that, eh? Tell me that!
Didn't you just plead with me to make a fool of myself, and to save you pain I consented. I suppose I'll never hear the end of that fool joke," growled Jerry.
"Oh, yes, you will. It's all in the family. Others don't know the dog was dead when he had his picture taken. They all say he looks as though about to snap a piece out of your leg. Now, I think we've just had a glorious time of it up here, with nothing to mar our pleasure," remarked Frank, the peacemaker.
"Except that miserable job of mine in leaving my knife home," sighed Bluff.
"Talk to me about that, will you! He hasn't forgotten it yet!" exclaimed Jerry.
"I never can. Hello! Here comes Reddy with a bag of mail, the last we'll get, I suppose, before we go home. A letter for me? Now just keep your eyes to yourselves, fellows. I admit it's from Nellie, but no doubt the dear girl is anxious about her brother Frank, and wants information from a thoroughly reliable quarter."
Bluff sought out a lonesome corner of the big piazza in front of the ranch house, and presently all hands were absorbed in their letters. Suddenly the others heard Bluff utter an exclamation, and looked up just in time to see him sprint into the building.
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