"We forgot it, though."
"Speaking about forgetting, what about the German boy?" asked Mrs.
Wilder, who had come to learn the cause of the preparations.
At the mention of Hans the four lads looked at one another in
dismay. But the ranchman came to the rescue, saying:
"From all Larry and Tom say, I don't reckon he'll be keen on
hunting. You can let him help Ned."
"Ned's our handy man," explained Horace in a whisper. "He drives
the grub wagon to Tolopah, and to the boys in their camps."
"Well, here comes the wagon now," observed Mrs. Wilder as she
caught sight of the big white-covered wagon, called a prairie
schooner in the old days, bobbing over the plains about a mile away.
"Oh, don't let's wait," protested Horace. "We can saddle up and go
and meet them. I'll make my pony dance and perhaps that will scare
Hans so he won't care to go."
"All right," laughed Mr. Wilder. "Bring up the 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.
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