trousers pockets. He had observed the strange outfit coming down the
street, but at first the full meaning of it did not impress him. Now
he discovered that the procession consisted of Tad Butler and an
emaciated, hesitating old horse.

Stacy's eyes gradually closed until they were mere slits, through
which he peered inquiringly.

"Hullo, Tad," he greeted.

"Hello, Chunky," returned the freckle-faced boy with a grin.

"What you got there, a skeleton?"

"No; this is a mare. Her name is Jinny and she's mine."

"Huh! Skate, I call her. Where did you get her?"

"Bought her," answered Tad proudly.

Chunky emitted a long-drawn whistle.

"What are you going to do with her?" he demanded, a sudden suspicion
entering his mind.

"First, I am going to doctor her up and make a real live horse of
her. Then, perhaps, she will join the Pony Riders' Club."

"What?"