"No," said the little boy. "I wish we could camp out and hunt
Indians!"
"Oh my goodness!" exclaimed his mother. "Don't get such foolish
notions in your head. Anyway there aren't any Indians to hunt on
Uncle Frank's ranch, are there, Dick?" she asked her husband.
"Well, no, I guess not," he answered slowly. "There are some Indians
on their own ranch, or government reservation, not far from where
Uncle Frank has his horses and cattle, but I guess the Redmen never
bother anyone."
"Can we go to see 'em?" asked Teddy.
"I guess so," said Mr. Martin.
"Me go, too! Me like engines," murmured Trouble, who had also
spilled a little milk on himself.
"He thinks we're talking about _engines_--the kind that pull this
train!" laughed Ted. "I don't believe he ever saw a real _Indian."_
"No, Indians do not walk the streets of Cresco," said Mrs. Martin.
"But finish your suppers, children. Others are waiting to use the
table and we must not keep them too long."
There were many travelers going West--not all as far as the
Curlytops though--and as there was not room in the dining-car for all
of them to sit down at once they had to take turns. That is why the
waiter made one, two, and sometimes three calls for each meal, as he
went through the different coaches.
Supper over, the Martins went back to their place in the coach in
which they had ridden all day.
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