“Do your worst,” invited Bert.  “So long,” and he hastened after his friends, who had gone on slowly during this time.  “What did he say?” inquired Tom, and Bert repeated the substance of the brief exchange of talk.  “But I’m not worrying much over his threats,” he finished.  “I imagine he’ll be a little more careful in the future.”

They then repaired directly to the hotel, where they had supper.  Afterward they went out again to view an elaborate display of fireworks given under the auspices of the town.  Everywhere were hilarious cowboys, who as soon as they recognized Bert crowded about the party and made progress difficult.  At last they struggled to a point of vantage where they could see everything going on, and spent an enjoyable evening.

About ten o’clock they returned to the hotel, and after securing their ponies set out on the long ride back to camp, accompanied by such of the ranchmen as could tear themselves away so early.  They straggled in singly and in couples all the next day, and it was almost a week before the affairs of the ranch settled down into their usual well-ordered condition.

From that time on, the regard in which the three comrades were held by the rough Westerners never wavered, and the cowboys never wearied of discussing again and again the details of the great race that clipped the wings of the “townies.”

CHAPTER VII

The Wolf Pack

One evening not long after their arrival at the camp the three friends, wearied after a day of strenuous activity, were whiling away the time in reminiscences of some of their past adventures.  Mr. Melton, who made one of the little group, listened in an interested fashion, and seemed little disposed to interrupt the draught of “memories’ mellow vine.”

After a while they ceased talking, and a short silence ensued, which was abruptly broken by Bert.

“Look here, fellows,” he exclaimed, “here we are monopolizing the conversation, when we might be listening to some really interesting story from Mr. Melton.  I vote we petition the boss of this outfit to spin us a yarn.”

“Second the motion,” shouted Tom and Dick, and the vote was carried.

“You fellows seem to think I have a story on tap all the time,” he said with an indulgent smile, “but the fact is I’ve told you about all the exciting things that ever happened to me, or that I ever heard of.  My memory is squeezed as dry as a lemon.”

“Just the same, I’ll bet if you think real hard you can think of something worth telling,” said Bert; “try to, anyway, won’t you?”

At first their host made no reply to this entreaty, but gazed ruminatively off into space.  At last he spoke.