A rider with a thatch of straw-colored hair was the first one off his mount. He watched as a pudgy kid tottered away from his horse. He knew the kid's name was Herman but didn't know him well. He had heard a couple of other kids say that Herman had trouble at home. He wasn't sure what kind of trouble, but it was obvious that he was also having problems right here. He bent over, wobbled, and looked as if he was going to pitch forward onto his face. Finally, he stopped, braced his hands on his knees, gagged, and vomited.
Everyone around him roared. They elbowed each other and pointed at the pathetic scout.
"Herman's horsesick," one of them yelled.
"Yeah, and he wet his saddle, too," another howled gleefully.
The blond scout, whose uniform was dressed with a Hopi woven belt, walked up to Herman and asked if he was okay. There was a look of concern and understanding on his face and not a trace of ridicule. It was obvious that he was more mature than the others, and no one dared say a word as he led Herman away.
Mr Havelock yelled for the boys to follow him.
"Now, don't anybody wander off. Some of the passages in here run on for miles." As the troop fell into step behind their leader, the scouts mumbled under their breath. "This better be good," one said.
"Yeah, the circus arrives today," another murmured. "We could be watching them pitch the tents."