"Woof!" said the pony.

"Come out of here!" commanded the lad, jerking the animal to its
feet and starting for the exit.

The pink-eyed broncho followed its new master out as if he had been
doing so every day for a long time.

Tad picked out a spotted roan for Stacy Brown, to which he gave the
appropriate name of "Painted-squaw". Bad-eye, was considered an
appropriate name for Ned Rector's broncho, while Walter drew a
dapple gray which he decided to call Buster.

After choosing a well broken animal for the Professor, and picking
out a suitable pack horse, the boys announced that they were ready
for the start. An hour or so was spent in getting provisions enough
to last them for a few days, all of which, together with their camp
equipment, was strapped to the backs of the ponies.

It was now three o'clock in the afternoon. Ahead of them was a
thirty mile journey over an unknown trail.

"I think we had better have a guide to take us out to the foothills
until we shall have found our permanent guide," said the Professor.

"No, please don't," urged Tad.

"We are plainsmen enough now to he able to find our own way," added
Ned. "It's a clear trail. We can see the Rosebud Range from here.
That's it over there, isn't it, Mr. Simms?"