the bunk house where the cowboys slept. There was only one person in
there, and he was an old man to be called a "boy," thought Janet. But
all men, whether young or old, who look after the cattle on a ranch,
are called "cowboys" so age does not matter.

"Howdy," said this cowboy with a cheerful smile, as the Curlytops
looked in at him. He was mending a broken strap to his saddle.
"Where'd you get that curly hair?" he asked. "I lost some just like
that. Wonder if you got mine?"

Janet hardly knew what to make of this, but Teddy said:

"No, sir. This is _our_ hair. It's fast to our heads and we've
had it a long time."

"It was always curly this way," added Janet.

"Oh, was it? Well, then it can't be mine," said the cowboy with a
laugh. "Mine was curly only when I was a baby, and that was a good
many years ago. Are you going to live here?"

"We're going to stay all summer," Janet said. "Do you live here?"

"Well, yes; as much as anywhere."

"Could you show us where the Indians are that took Uncle Frank's
ponies?" Teddy demanded.

"Wish I could!" exclaimed the cowboy. "If I knew, I'd go after 'em
myself and get the ponies back. I guess those Indians are pretty far