I led her out. She was a medium-sized brown Colorado pony, well decorated with brands, and with a white face and two white feet. She wore a big Mexican saddle and a horse-hair bridle with a silver bit.
"She'll do," said Jack. "In case of wreck, we'll escape on her, if possible. She'll also be very handy in making landings where the harbor is poor, and in exploring unknown coasts."
"THEY'LL ALL BE SCALPED BY INJUNS," SAID GRANDPA OLDBERRY.
All of this work took several days, but when it was done the Rattletrap was ready for the voyage, and we decided to start the next morning.
"She's as prairie-worthy a craft as ever scoured the plain," was Jack's opinion; "and if we can keep the four wheels from starting in opposite directions we'll be all right."
But where was Ollie all this while? The fact is I had forgotten about Ollie. And who was Ollie, anyhow? Ollie was Jack's little nephew, and he lived back East somewhere—I don't remember where. The nearer we got ready to start, the more firmly Jack became convinced that Ollie would like to go along, so at last he sent for him to come, and he arrived the night before our start. Ollie liked the idea of the trip so much that he simply stood and looked at the wagon, the guns, the pony, and the horses, and was speechless. At last he managed to say,
"Uncle Jack, it'll be just like a picnic, won't it?"
The next morning we started as early as we could. But it was not before people were up.