Tad uttered a long-drawn whistle; his face sobered. It was more money
than he ever had seen at one time in his life. Would he ever have as
much as that? The freckle-faced boy doubted it.

"We fellows were talking about getting up a club," spoke up Walter.

"Club? What kind of a club?" asked Tad absently.

"Oh, some sort of a riding club. Chunky is going to ask his uncle to
buy him a pony; then we are going out with my tutor on long rides in
the country.

Tad eyed them steadily.

"Somehow we can't just decide on the name for the new club. I thought
maybe we would call ourselves the Bough Riders. Chunky doesn't like
that name. We had an idea that, perhaps, you could give us one. What
do you say, Tad?"

"Chunky's uncle is going to get him a pony?" asked Tad a bit
unsteadily.

"We hope so," nodded Walter. "And that's not all. We are going to get
Ned Rector to join the club. He already has a pony. Wish you might
come in with us, Tad."

"Wish I might," answered Tad wistfully.

"Of course, we know you can't really, but you belong to us just the