“Ain’t that Firefly you’re ridin’?” asked Merry Dick, after having tried in vain to leave Bob behind by sending his own pony at a mad gallop.

“Y—­yes,” returned Bob.  “Mr. Thomas, the station agent, bought him for me.”

“Bought him?” repeated the cowboy in amazement.  “You must be rollin’ in money, kid.  Simons said he’d never sell for less than two hundred dollars.”

Bob had no idea as to the value of horseflesh, so he asked: 

“Is that much to pay for a pony?”

“Much?  Well, I don’t know what you call much, but I do know that you can buy all the ponies you want, good ones at that, for fifty dollars.”

This knowledge of the expense to which Mr. Nichols had been put to provide him with a mount, for Bob believed it was he who had ordered the agent so to do, grieved the boy and he became silent, wondering if he should not send back the one hundred dollars present in part payment.

Merry Dick, however, mistook his silence for displeasure and exclaimed: 

“I don’t mean Firefly ain’t a good pony.  He’s the best within fifty mile, so you didn’t get stuck.”

In due course of time, they reached a spot where a few trees surrounded a spring, and there the cowboy said they would pitch camp.

With surprise, he watched Bob hobble his pony and then rub him down, observing: 

“I reckon you ain’t so green as you make out.”

Ignoring the left-handed compliment, Bob asked: 

“What do I have to do with the cattle?”

“Mighty little, so long as you have the dog with you.  He’s as good as any cowboy.”  And then Merry Dick explained that Bob’s duties lay in riding around and driving back the cattle that strayed from the herd, especially in the morning, and in case of a stampede, than which there is nothing more dreaded by cowboys, in outrunning the leaders and changing their direction, yelling and waving arms, until the frenzied animals are made to tire themselves out traveling in a circle.

The hours till twilight passed quickly with the stories the cowboy told of experiences he had had and had heard, in both of which he did not hesitate to draw freely on his imagination.

As the sunset bathed the plains in a glorious red, the two rode out and drove the straggling cattle back to the herd, and then Merry Dick showed Bob how to boil coffee over a bed of coals and fry bacon by holding it on a fork.

As night fell, many sounds reached the boy’s ears, but none scared him except the melancholy howl of the coyotes.

Without incident the hours of darkness passed and the two days that Merry Dick was with him, and, on the third, Ford rode over to see how they were getting along.

“He’ll do,” announced the cowboy, nodding toward Bob.

“Then you can go back to the others,” returned his boss, who remained with the boy.

Day followed day with monotonous regularity, and many a time Bob was glad of the dog’s company.  Several times Thomas came to see him, bringing letters from both Mr. Perkins and Mr. Nichols and taking back Bob’s answers, which told of his experiences, gratitude for their assistance, and delight in his new life.