"I--I couldn't help it!" he exclaimed, as he wiped up as much of the
milk as he could on a napkin with which the waiter hastened to him.

"No, we know it was the train," said Daddy Martin. "It wouldn't have
happened if you had been traveling on pony-back, and had stopped to
camp out for the night before you got your supper; would it, Ted?" he
asked with a smile.

"No," said the little boy. "I wish we could camp out and hunt
Indians!"

"Oh my goodness!" exclaimed his mother. "Don't get such foolish
notions in your head. Anyway there aren't any Indians to hunt on
Uncle Frank's ranch, are there, Dick?" she asked her husband.

"Well, no, I guess not," he answered slowly. "There are some Indians
on their own ranch, or government reservation, not far from where
Uncle Frank has his horses and cattle, but I guess the Redmen never
bother anyone."

"Can we go to see 'em?" asked Teddy.

"I guess so," said Mr. Martin.

"Me go, too! Me like engines," murmured Trouble, who had also
spilled a little milk on himself.

"He thinks we're talking about _engines_--the kind that pull this
train!" laughed Ted. "I don't believe he ever saw a real _Indian."_