Hastily the brothers dressed and then went to see if Horace was in
his room or had played some joke on them in letting them sleep. To
their relief, they found him in bed.
"Hey, you, get up!" cried Tom. "You're a fine one to be in charge
of the Half-Moon Ranch. If you stay in bed much longer, it will be
dark."
Deeply chagrined to think he had overslept, Horace leaped to the
floor, and soon the three boys were ready for breakfast.
At the sound of their voices Mrs. Wilder had ordered Hop Joy to
bring in their food, and as the lads entered the dining-room she
was awaiting them.
"Why didn't you call us?" protested Horace.
"Because I thought you were all tired and that sleep would do you
good."
"And I suppose if Larry or Tom hadn't happened to wake up, you
would have let us sleep all day?"
"I suppose I should," said his mother, smiling. "When you are in
bed I know that you are safe."
"You must not worry about us, Mrs. Wilder," interposed Larry. "I
always tell mother that we are old enough to take care of
ourselves. So I wish you would feel the same. I think it would
save you no end of anxiety."
"Undoubtedly. But I never can think of my Horace except as my
baby."
"Huh! I'm a pretty husky baby," grunted the boy. "See here,
mother, I'm fifteen now, so I wish you'd stop calling me your baby.
When a fellow has been put in charge of the Half-Moon herd he
doesn't like to be called a baby.
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