A friendly bush aided him to avoid the big boy's hand.
"Never mind, Smarty," warned Jack. "Hello! Look at this horse show!"
A number of mustangs, already saddled, were packed together in a bunch on the edge of the clearing.
"Make yerselves to hum," said Big Jim, as they emerged from the timber. "A purty big room, with a high ceilin', ain't it?" Reynolds chuckled at his bit of humor. "Hello!" he straightened up, "thought you was all here. Who's that a-comin'?"
The crowd of men and boys heard the sound of footsteps crashing through the brush, and caught glimpses between the trees of a form pushing steadily toward them.
"By the great horn spoon, I believe—I believe it's actually Dick Travers!" cried Bob, with an earnest look.
"That's just who it is!" almost yelled Tim, delightedly. "Whoop! Hello, you old scamp! Where in thunder—"
"Cut out any questions," advised Bob, in low tones.
Dick Travers, with easy unconcern, stepped out into the clearing, nodding calmly toward the group.
"Morning, everybody!" he saluted, waving his hand.