a tree.

"Him kick like buck caribou. Him kick all time, both ways."

"We'll hopple him if he does," said Tad. "Be sure that you tie him so he
doesn't kick our ponies, Anvik. We can't have anything of that sort. If
he persists in kicking I'll see if I can't break him of it."

"You horse shaman?" asked Anvik.

"Yes, he's ashamed of his horse, that's it," chuckled Stacy.

Tad's face wore a puzzled look, which a few seconds later gave place to
a smile of understanding.

"Oh! you mean, am I a horse doctor? Is that it?"

"Uh."

"That's what he is. Anvik has got you properly located this time. Ha,
ha!" laughed Chunky.

"Come, boys, unpack. We must give our guide his first lesson. You sit
down and watch us, Anvik, while we make camp."

The guide did so, grunting with approval or disapproval from time to
time as the work pleased or displeased him. Under the now skillful hands
of the Pony Rider Boys the camp rapidly assumed shape and form. All the
tents were erected on this occasion in order that the guide might
observe the whole process. The tents up, the boys settled them. There
were plenty of trees about from which to get boughs for their beds, and
wood was brought and a campfire built up. This especially interested the
guide. He uttered grunts and nods of approval as he watched Tad build
the fire in true woodsman-like manner.

"White man no make fire like Indian. You make fire like Indian."

"Thank you," smiled Butler.

"You make cook fire. How you make sleep fire?"

"A little fire close up to the tent," answered Butler. "I make it so as
to get all the heat into the tent instead of sending the heat up into
the air where it will do no good."

"Heap good. You good Indian."

"That's what he is, Anvil, he's an Indian," cried Stacy.

"I seem to be a good many things in this camp," laughed Tad. "Any
further compliments you can pay me, Stacy?"

"No, but if you don't chase that buck over yonder behind the Professor's
tent, I reckon you'll lose your rope," reminded the fat boy.

Tad sprang to his feet, leaping over the tent ropes to the rear. A
native had reached under and was hauling out Butler's lasso. Tad grabbed
the fellow by an arm and sent him spinning.

"You get out of here or I'll wallop you!" threatened the freckle-faced
boy. "Don't you try that! It doesn't go in this outfit. Anvik, tell your
friend that someone will get knocked in the head if he steals anything
in this camp."

The guide uttered a