substitutin' on this job, and wasn't in fer takin' no extry risks."

"Here, boy!" cried Donald, "hold my horse. The girth's broken; I'll
have to make another hole in the strap."

The word "boy" being a generic term was promptly appropriated by each
of the youngsters as applying to himself, and a fierce scramble ensued
in which the larger was victorious.

"Skeeter's it," announced the flagman, a self-constituted umpire. "Git
out 'er the way there, Chick, and give the gent a chanct to see what
he's a-doin'."

Chick, a large-headed, small-bodied goblin of a boy, made an
unintelligible, guttural sound in his throat and remained where he
was, evidently considering it of paramount importance that _he_ should
see what the gentleman was doing.

It was with some difficulty that the new hole in the strap was made,
and to secure the buckle more firmly Don gave it several sharp raps
with the handle of his riding whip. At the last one the silver knob
flew from the handle and rolled to the roadside.

In an instant the small boys were after it, the older having deserted
his post without compunction, when a question of booty was involved.
They grappled together in the dust of the road, long before they
reached the prize, and with arms and legs entwined rolled toward it.

Chick was underneath when they arrived, but he loosened his clutch of
Skeeter's throat, and darted forth a small, grimy hand that closed