Dick jumped up and down in glee, for he had just knocked a chip of bone from the skull himself.

“Bud missed!  Bud missed!” he shouted, in glee.  “Bud, you’re an old tenderfoot.  Couldn’t hit a skull as big as the head of a barrel a hundred feet away.”

“Didn’t miss, neither,” said Bud, in a tone of mock anger.  “There’s where you’re fooled.  That is what I call a good shot.  See that left eye hole?  Well, I aimed at that, and the bullet went through it.  Ha!  That’s where the joke is on you.”  He grinned, and winked at Stella.

A few minutes later Dick shot and missed the skull.

“Yah!” shouted Bud.  “Goody!  You missed.  You shoot like a hayseed.  Couldn’t hit a skull as big as the head of a barrel.”

“That’s where you’re left,” said the boy.  “See that right eye hole?  That’s what I aimed at.”

The laugh was on Bud.

“All right, kiddie,” he laughed.  “You’re on.  We’d be in a dickens of a fix if that ole cow hadn’t left two eye holes when she died.”

So it was that Dick had made great progress in the rudiments of a cow-puncher’s life, and it exactly suited him, but, in the meanwhile, Stella was teaching him to read, and telling him the story of the rise and grandeur of his own country, and of the lands that lay beyond the seas.

So it was that Dick was unconsciously getting a better education than if he had gone to school, for he had a mind for the absorption of all sorts of knowledge like a sponge, and once a thing was told him he never forgot it.

The morning of the count he had started onto the range with the other boys, but as there would be great confusion, and perhaps danger of a stampede, Ted sent him back to camp.

“Run on back, Dick,” Ted said kindly.  “I’m afraid that pony of yours isn’t quick enough to get out of the way if these dogies should take it into their heads to act ugly.”

Dick never thought of rebelling when Ted spoke, for he knew that Ted was boss, and that he knew what was good for him.

“All right, Ted,” he said.  “Would it be any harm if I took a ride away from the camp?”

“Of course not, Dick,” answered Ted kindly.  He felt a little sore at himself for sending the boy away, but he knew that it was for the best.  There would be plenty of time and many occasions for Dick to run into danger when he grew up.

Dick went back to camp, which was deserted save for Bill McCall, the cook, who was asleep under the chuck wagon, and Mrs. Graham, who was lying down in her tent.

Dick buckled on his belt and holster, and, mounting his pony Spraddle, set out for a long ride across the prairie.

In the boot of his saddle rested his little Remington, a present from Stella.  He was going to look for an antelope, and he thought how proud Ted would be if he brought one back with him.

He knew how hard it was to get close enough to an antelope to shoot it, but he had just enough gameness to think that he could get one if he came within range of it.