Not far away he heard the sound of the pony’s footsteps approaching.  Bill was an old cow-puncher, and he knew instantly that the pony was tired, and that he was under saddle, and also that the saddle was occupied.

The footsteps came nearer, and just as they were close to the camp daylight came on with a rush, as it does on the plains, and Bill gave a great shout of joy which brought every puncher in camp scrambling out of his blankets, for there rode in a very tired little boy on a very tired little, pony.

The boy was pale and tired from hunger and his long hours in the saddle, and it was all the pony could do to stagger in.

“It’s little Dick,” shouted Bud.  “Well, jumpin’ sand hills, whar you-all been all night?  Takin’ a leetle pleasure pasear?”

“Oh, Bud, I’m so tired and hungry,” said Dick, as Bud lifted him from the saddle.

“Here you, Bill, git busy in a hurry.  This kid ain’t hed nothin’ ter eat in a week.  He’s ‘most starved.  Bile yer coffee double-quick, an’ git up a mess o’ bacon an’ flapjacks pretty dern pronto, if yer don’t want me ter git inter yer wool.”

Bud was rubbing the cold and chafed wrists of the boy beside the fire, which one of the boys had replenished.  The boys surrounded little Dick with many inquiries, but Bud shooed them away.

“Don’t yer answer a bloomin’ question until yer gits yer system packed with cooky’s best grub.  I reckon, now, yer could eat erbout eighteen o’ them twelve-inch flapjacks what Bill makes, an’ drink somethin’ like a gallon o’ ther fust coffee what comes out o’ ther pot.”

Little Dick smiled, as he watched with glistening eyes the rapid movements of Bill McCall as he hustled over his fire, the air redolent with the odors of coffee and bacon and griddle cakes, so that his mouth fairly watered.

When Bill shouted breakfast, Ted and Bud sat Dick down and loaded his plate with good things, which he caused to disappear in a hurry.

But after a while he was stuffed like a Christmas turkey, and put his tin plate away with a sigh, and absolutely cleaned.

“Now,” said Ted, when he saw this good sign, “where have you been all day and all night?  We’ve been scared about you.  Thought we had lost you, too.”

Dick went ahead with his story from the very beginning, and told of the downfall of Pokopokowo, and his escape, and of his all-night ride into the west, to accidentally stumble, at daylight, into camp.

The boys listened in amazement to this record of courage on the part of its youngest member, and some seemed to doubt the Indian part of it.

“Sho, yer dreamin’, kid,” said Sol Flatbush, the cow-puncher.  “Thar ain’t no Injuns like that in this yere part o’ ther country.  Why, an Injun wouldn’t dare carry off a kid like that.”

“You don’t believe it, eh?” exclaimed Dick hotly.

“I believe yer,” said Bud soothingly, for the boy was very nervous from being up all night and his hard ride, which would have taxed the energies of a grown man.  “Don’t yer mind what thet ole pelican says.  He ain’t got no more sense than a last year’s bird’s nest, nohow.”