ponies. Get
Buster for me."

Running to the wagon shed, the boys gathered the saddles, bridles,
some oats and pans and started for the corral.

Opening the big gate, they entered, closed it and then threw their
saddles on the ground.

"Always close the gate before you start to get your ponies,"
instructed Bill. "Sometimes they cut up, and if they get out onto
the prairie it's the old Harry of a job to catch them again.

"Now put your oats in your pans. Watch Horace and me and you'll
see what to do."

When they had prepared the oat bait, the two Wilder boys began to
beat on the pans, calling Buster and the other ponies by name.

The animals, which were at the farther end of the corral browsing,
lifted their heads and then came trotting toward them, halting
about ten feet away.

"Swish your pans so they can hear the oats," whispered Bill.

Slowly the ponies approached, as though deciding whether they
preferred their oats or their liberty.

"Come, Blackhawk! Come, Buster!" called Horace.

The boys set the pans on the ground. For a moment the ponies eyed
them and then trotted up, the eight crowding one another to get at
the four measures.

"Now's the time," breathed Bill.

In a trice the bits were thrust into the ponies' mouths and the
leather over their ears.

Lightning plunged back, but Larry grabbed the reins just in time
and held him.

"Push the pan to him," directed Horace, and, as he smelled the
oats, the pony grew still and was soon munching contentedly.

After catching his own mount, Bill had bridled Buster, and as soon
as the oats were devoured, all five were saddled with little
trouble and the boys were quickly on the backs of four of them,
Bill leading the pony for his father.

It required but a few minutes to make fast the saddle bags Hop Joy
had filled with food, tin plates, cups, knives and forks, coffee
pot, sugar and coffee and to tie on their sleeping blankets.

Then they buckled on their cartridge belts, slung their rifles
across their shoulders and again mounted.

By the time they were ready, however, the grub wagon was coming
into the yard.

"Where's Hans?" gasped Larry, the first one to discover that there
was only one occupant.

With a broad grin suffusing his face, the driver cried:

"Whoa!"

As the horses stopped Mr. Wilder, fearing that the boy had been
made the butt of some mad prank, said severely:

"If anything happened to that lad, I shall hold you responsi