Wilder, who had reached the black and
was dismounting.
"No. I'm all right, thanks to the prairie grass," replied the
younger of the brothers. "Is Blackhawk hurt?"
"I don't think so. Ease up, Bill. I've got him by the bridle."
Quickly the elder of the Wilder boys rode forward, and as the
prostrate pony felt the rope loosen he bounded to his feet.
With skilled eye the ranchman looked him over and there was a world
of relief in his voice as he said:
"We got out of that scrape mighty luckily. There isn't a scratch
on Blackhawk, and if Tom's----"
"There's no scratch on me either," returned the boy. "But what
about the race, do I win or not?"
"Considering you flew from Blackhawk's back almost to the tree, I
reckon you do," declared Mr. Wilder.
And looking up, Tom noticed that he was, indeed, standing under the
branches of the tree that marked the goal.
CHAPTER VIII
HORACE IN DANGER
As the others reached the tree they dismounted, unbuckled the
saddle bags and removed the saddles.
"Well, commander, do you wish me to select a place to hobble the
ponies?" asked Mr. Wilder, addressing Tom.
"Yes, sir. I never was in charge of a camp before, so you must
tell me what to do."
"Oh, make me your lieutenant and I'll tell you," pleaded Horace.
"I know all about it."
"You can give orders all right," grunted Bill, "there's no doubt
about that.
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