livelihood from the prairies has accustomed them to giving and receiving hard knocks, and they don't stop to think how what they say will sound. Just take it good-naturedly and give them back better than they send—if you can."
"I'll try," said the boy. "But please don't call me Mr. Nichols. Just Bob. I like it better."
At this request, Bob rose a hundred per cent. in the estimation of the agent.
"All right. But if I do, you must call me Hal," he replied.
When they had carried the trunk into a little room off the station, Thomas said:
"Can you ride horseback at all, Bob?"
"No."
"That's too bad. You'll have to learn. Everybody rides out here. I've orders to get you the best pony possible and I wanted to know just what kind to get. Most of 'em have some mean trick. But there's one, Firefly they call him, that is as gentle as a lamb. Whether Shorty Simmons will sell him or not, I don't know, but I'll find out."
"Is he fast?" asked Bob, fearing that the pony might be slow and old because he was gentle.
"There's not a horse in Fairfax that can keep up with him. Now this will be your room. It's mine too, but I'll move if you wish."
"If you do, I'll go to the hotel."
