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 dollars."
This knowledge of the expense to which Mr. Nichols had been put to provide him with a mount, for Bob believed it was he who had ordered the agent so to do, grieved the boy and he became silent, wondering if he should not send back the one hundred dollars present in part payment.
