They accordingly packed their "war-bags" that same evening, and before
retiring had made every preparation for the morrow's trip.
The next morning they were up with the sun, and after a hasty breakfast
leaped into their saddles and were off. It was a glorious day, and the
exhilarating air made them feel "right up on their toes," as Tom
expressed it. Bert felt called upon to reprove Tom for using this
expression, for, as he gravely pointed out, they were not on their own
toes at all, but on the horses', so to speak.
"Aw, forget it," retorted Tom flippantly; "it's toe bad about you,
anyway."
Having delivered this shot Tom chirruped to his horse, and set off at a
smart gallop, followed by Dick and Bert. The two latter hadn't decided
what they would do to Tom when they caught him, but they were longing for
a canter, anyway, and this gave them a good excuse. But after traveling
in this rapid manner for a short distance they pulled in their steeds,
for it would never do to tire them thus early in the journey. Tom, seeing
that the pursuit had been abandoned, also reined in his horse, and
allowed his companions to gain on him.
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