The Curlytops at Uncle Frank's Ranch Part 12

"I--say--it--does!" and Janet was very positive.

"Now, now, children!" chided their mother. "That isn't nice. What are you disputing about now?"

"Jan says her forgetter's better'n mine!" cried Ted.

"And it is," insisted Janet. "I can forget lots easier than Ted."

"Well, forgetting isn't a very good thing to do," said Mr. Martin.

"Remembering is better."

"Oh, that's what I meant!" said Jan. "I thought it was a forgetter.

Anyhow mine's better'n Ted's!"

"Now don't start that again," warned Mother Martin, playfully shaking her finger at the two children. "Be nice now. Amuse yourselves in some quiet way. It will soon be time to go to bed. You must be tired. Be nice now."

"Come on, let's go for a walk," proposed Jan again, and Ted, now that the forget-memory dispute was over, was willing to be friendly and kind and go with his sister.

So while Trouble climbed up into his mother's lap, and the older folks were talking among themselves, the two Curlytops, not being noticed by the others, slipped off the porch and walked toward the ranch buildings, out near the corrals, or the fenced-in places, where the horses were kept.

There were too many horses to keep them all penned in, or fenced around, just as there are too many cattle on a cattle ranch. But the cowboys who do not want their horses which they ride to get too far away put them in a corral. This is just as good as a barn, except in cold weather.

"There's lots of things to see here," said Teddy, as he and his sister walked along.

"Yes," she agreed. "It's lots of fun. I'm glad I came."

"So'm I. Oh, look at the lots of ponies!" she cried, as she and Ted turned a corner of one of the ranch buildings and came in sight of a new corral. In it were a number of little horses, some of which hung their heads over the fence and watched the Curlytops approaching.

"I'd like to ride one," sighed Teddy wistfully.

"Oh, you mustn't!" cried Jan. "Uncle Frank wouldn't like it, nor mother or father, either. You have to ask first."

"Oh, I don't mean ride now," said Ted. "Anyhow, I haven't got a saddle."

"Can't you ride without a saddle?" asked Janet.

"Well, not very good I guess," Ted answered. "A horse's back has a bone in the middle of it, and that b.u.mps you when you don't have a saddle."

"How do you know?" asked Janet.

"I know, 'cause once the milkman let me sit on his horse and I felt the bone in his back. It didn't feel good."

"Maybe the milkman's horse was awful bony."

"He was," admitted Ted. "But anyhow you've got to have a saddle to ride a horse, lessen you're a Indian and I'm not."

"Well, maybe after a while Uncle Frank'll give you a saddle," said Janet.

"Maybe," agreed her brother. "Oh, see how the ponies look at us!"

"And one's following us all around," added his sister. For the little horses had indeed all come to the side of the corral fence nearest the Curlytops, and were following along as the children walked.

"What do you s'pose they want?" asked Teddy.

"Maybe they're hungry," answered Janet.

"Let's pull some gra.s.s for 'em," suggested Teddy, and they did this, feeding it to the horses that stretched their necks over the top rail of the fence and chewed the green bunches as if they very much liked their fodder.

But after a while Jan and Ted tired of even this. And no wonder--there were so many horses, and they all seemed to like the gra.s.s so much that the children never could have pulled enough for all of them.

"Look at that one always pus.h.i.+ng the others out of the way," said Janet, pointing to one pony, larger than the others, who was always first at the fence, and first to reach his nose toward the bunches of gra.s.s.

"And there's a little one that can't get any," said her brother. "I'd like to give him some, Jan."

"So would I. But how can we? Every time I hold out some gra.s.s to him the big horse takes it."

Teddy thought for a minute and then he said:

"I know what we can do to keep the big horse from getting it all."

"What?" asked Janet.

"We can both pull some gra.s.s. Then you go to one end of the fence, and hold out your bunch. The big horse will come to get it and push the others away, like he always does."

"But then the little pony won't get any," Janet said.

"Oh, yes, he will!" cried Teddy. "'Cause when you're feeding the big horse I'll run up and give the _little_ horse my bunch. Then he'll have some all by himself."

And this the Curlytops did. When the big horse was chewing the gra.s.s Janet gave him, Ted held out some to the little horse at the other end of the corral. And he ate it, but only just in time, for the big pony saw what was going on and trotted up to shove the small animal out of the way. But it was too late.

Then Janet and Teddy walked on a little further, until Janet said it was growing late and they had better go back to the porch where the others were still talking.

Evening was coming on. The sun had set, but there was still a golden glow in the sky. Far off in one of the big fields a number of horses and cattle could be seen, and riding out near them were some of the cowboys who, after their supper, had gone out to see that all was well for the night.

"Is all this your land, Uncle Frank?" asked Teddy as he stood on the porch and looked over the fields.

"Yes, as far as you can see, and farther. If you Curlytops get lost, which I hope you won't, you'll have to go a good way to get off my ranch. But let me tell you now, not to go too far away from the house, unless your father or some of us grown folks are with you."

"Why?" asked Janet.

"Well, you _might_ get lost, you know, and then--oh, well, don't go off by yourselves, that's all," and Uncle Frank turned to answer a question Daddy Martin asked him.

Ted and Janet wondered why they could not go off by themselves as they had done at Cherry Farm.

"Maybe it's because of the Indians," suggested Jan.

"Pooh, I'm not afraid of them," Teddy announced.

Just then one of the cowboys--later the children learned he was Jim Mason, the foreman--came walking up to the porch. He walked in a funny way, being more used to going along on a horse than on his own feet.