He had
no intention of crying.
"Gee! I always wanted to camp out and watch the stars," he
told Silver stoutly. "Honest to gran'ma, I think this is
just--simply--GREAT! I bet them nester kids would be scared.
Hunh!"
That helped a lot. The Kid could whistle better after that.
He pulled of the saddle, laid it down on its side so that the
skirts would not bend out of shape--oh, he had been well-
taught, with the whole Happy Family for his worshipful
tutors!--and untied the rope from beside the fork. "I'll have
to anchor you to a tree, old-timer," he told the horse
briskly. "I'd sure hate to be set afoot in this man's
country!" And a minute later--"Oh, funder! I never brought
you any sugar!"
Would you believe it, that small child of the Flying U
picketed his horse where the grass was best, and the knots he
tied were the knots his dad would have tied in his place. He
unrolled his blanket and carried it to the sheltered little
nook under the ledge, and dragged the bag of doughnuts and
the jelly and honey and bread after it. He had heard about
thievish animals that will carry off bacon and flour and
such. He knew that he ought to hang his grub in a tree, but
he could not reach up as far as the fox who might try to help
himself, so that was out of the question.
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