wling, boy. None of these men are going to harm me."

A moment the dog looked at Bob, then leisurely glanced from one to
another of the cowboys--and stopped snarling.

"That beats all," declared Crazy Ned. "Say, kid, you don't need to fear
anybody's playin' tricks on you when that brute is with you."

"No, I guess not," smiled Bob. And then in a burst of confidence he
added: "But I don't want people to be nice because they are afraid of
Chester. If they don't like me for myself, I don't want them to like me
at all."

"That's all right, kid. But there's some ornery critturs wearin' the
clothes of cowboys, so just take advice of a man who knows and keep the
dog with you," said Yellow Tom.

"Yellow's givin' it to you straight," asserted Shorty Flinn. "There's
some folks ain't never happy unless they're makin' others onhappy."

Bob took the advice in the spirit it was given and, while Merry Dick was
putting together enough food to last them for the three days he was to
be with the boy, chatted and joked with them, answering such questions
as he saw fit and turning off those he did not care to. And such
manliness and good nature did he display that he won the respect of the
four cowpunchers, than whom there were no harder characters riding the
plains.

At last Merry Dick had stowed the food in his saddle bags, unhobbled and
made ready his broncho, and as he waited for Bob to mount, the others
began to tease him.

"No tricks, now," said one. "Remember what John said about the
comparative value of cowboys and steers. Don't put salt instead of sugar
in Bob's coffee."

"Don't worry about _me_," laughed Bob. "With Chester my friend, we're
more likely to play tricks on Merry Dick than he is to play any on us."

And amid the shouts of merriment this suggestion produced, the cowboy
and his youthful companion galloped away.

"Ain't that Firefly you're ridin'?" asked Merry Dick, after having tried
in vain to leave Bob behind by sending his own pony at a mad gallop.

"Y--yes," returned Bob. "Mr. Thomas, the station agent, bought him for
me."

"_Bought_ him?" repeated the cowboy in amazement. "You must be rollin'
in money, kid. Simons said he'd never sell for less than two hundred
dollars."

Bob had no idea as to the value of horseflesh, so he asked:

"Is that much to pay for a pony?"

"Much? Well, I don't know what you call much, but I do know that you can
buy all the ponies you want, good ones at that, for fifty do