t of sight out of mind" was almost always
the rule with the little Bunkers, as daddy frequently said. Besides,
there were so many new and interesting things to see that the matter of
the Indians escaped the new-comers' minds.

There were great corrals down behind the big house, as well as
bunkhouses in which the cowboys lived, and stables, and a long cook-shed
in which three men cooked for the hands, as Cowboy Jack called his
employees. Cowboy Jack owned a very large ranch and a great number of
steers and horses and mules.

"It's almost like a circus," said Russ. "And all the different kind of
dogs, too. _That_ dog has hardly any hair, and he comes from Mexico, so
they say. While that _wolfy_ looking dog comes from away up in Alaska.
Then there are dogs from places all between Alaska and Mexico."

This information he had gained from one of the Mexican boys with whom he
became acquainted. They did not think to ask the friendly Mexican about
the Indians, and not until the children went back to the house did they
think to make inquiry about the procession they had seen right after
breakfast. It was then Vi, inquisitive as usual, who broached the
subject.

"Why do Indians wear feather dusters in their hair?" she asked.

"For the same reason that ladies wear feathers in their bonnets,"
declared Daddy Bunker seriously. "Because they think the feathers are
ornamental."

"And why do they strap their babies to boards?" demanded Vi.

"Where did you see Indians?" asked Mother Bunker, guessing the source
from which Violet's questions were springing.

"Oh!" cried Rose. "There _were_ Indians--lots of them. We saw their
parade go by--just like a Wild West Show parade."

Cowboy Jack began to laugh. And when he laughed his great body shook all
over, and the chair in which he sat shook too.

"Are there Indians here, Mr. Scarbontiskil?" asked Mother Bunker.

"That's part of the surprise I told the children about," said Cowboy
Jack, nodding to Mother Bunker, but smiling at the interested children.
"Those Injuns are a part of it."

But he would not tell them any more--at least, not just then.

"It's a sort of a riddle," said Laddie eagerly, when they were all out
of doors again. "I know it's a riddle. And we ought to find the
answer."

"Well," scoffed Vi, his twin, "you can sit down and think of your old
riddle if you want to. I'm going to pick flowers for mother."

"There must be some nice flowers here," agreed Rose. "I'l