s," said Janet. "We want to go,
but we've got to stay here."

"And we can ride our ponies good, too," went on Teddy. "Uncle Frank said
we could."

"Yes, you're getting to be pretty good riders," admitted Baldy. "But
that isn't saying you're big enough to go on a trail after Indians. Of
course these Indians may not be very bad, and maybe they aren't the ones
that took our horses. But riding on a trail takes a long while, and
maybe the boys will be out all night in the open. You wouldn't like
that."

"We went camping with our grandpa once," declared Teddy.

"And we slept in a tent," added his sister.

"And we saw a funny blue light and we thought it was a ghost but it
wasn't," continued Teddy.

"Hum! A ghost, eh?" laughed Baldy. "Well, I've never been on a trail
after one of _them_, but I've trailed Indians--and helped catch 'em,
too."

"How do you do it?" asked Teddy eagerly.

"Well, you just keep on riding--following the trail you know--until you
catch up to those you're after. Sometimes you can't see any marks on the
ground and you have to guess at it."

"And do the Indians ride on ahead and try to get away?" asked Janet.

"Indeed they do. When they know we're after 'em they ride as fast as
they can. That is, if they've done wrong, like taking horses or cattle
that aren't theirs. We just keep chasing 'em until we get close enough
to arrest 'em."

"It's like a game of tag, isn't it?" asked Janet.

"Well, yes, you could call it sort of like that," admitted Baldy, with
another laugh. "But it's a kind of game of tag that little boys and
girls can't very well play."

"Not even when they have ponies?" asked Teddy.

"Well, of course, having a pony makes it easier to keep on the trail.
You couldn't go very far walking over the prairies--at least none of us
do. We all ride. But I'll tell you some stories about cowboys and
Indians and that will amuse you for a while. Like to hear 'em?"

"Oh, yes!" cried Teddy.

"Very much, thank you," added Janet, a little more politely but still
just as eagerly as her brother.

So Baldy, sitting on the bench in front of the bunkhouse and resting his
lame foot on a saddle on the ground, told the Curlytops stories of his
cowboy life--of sleeping out on the prairies keeping watch over the
cattle, of Indians or other bad men who would come and try to steal
them, and how he and his friends had to give chase to get the steers or
ponies back.

"Did you ever get captured by the