pt to think that because the red and yellow people look
pretty much alike, they all are alike. Then when we come to know them,
and find that they have as many differences as we have, we are rather
surprised. This may be conceited of us, but it is natural. You probably
know by now that Injun was a very independent person. So he started off
to take charge of affairs himself.

Meanwhile Whitey, feeling much like a fool, and possibly looking like
one had there been light enough to see, was being led to the ranch
house. Arrived there and seated in the living-room, motherly Mrs. Steele
apologized for not thinking of him before, and surrounding him with all
the comforts of home, away from those vulgar men. She was inclined to be
proud of herself for having done so at this late hour. Had she known
what Whitey was thinking about the comforts of home and about her, she
would not have been so proud.

For a while she entertained Whitey by talking about New York, which she
had visited ten years before, when on her honeymoon. She was surprised
to learn that Whitey had not even heard of any of the people she had met
there, he having been born in New York and having lived there the first
fourteen years of his life. Well, well; it was a queer world, anyway.
Perhaps you will get the best idea of how unhappy Whitey was by
imagining yourself in the same position.

In his misery Whitey formed vague plans for escape. Then a new horror
awaited him. He was to sleep in the Steeles' bedroom, in a cot at the
foot of their bed! In vain he protested that the living-room floor was
good enough for him. Mrs. Steele wouldn't hear of it. So he was shown
into the bedroom, and when he was undressed and clothed in one of Gil
Steele's long white night-shirts, Mrs. Steele returned and took his
clothes away to brush them!

Whitey's cup of bitterness was full. This was a fine position for a hero
to be in. He tried the sour-grapes idea: perhaps Injun hadn't learned
anything that amounted to anything, after all. But that didn't work.
There were no two ways about it, he was an abused being. By golly, this
was worse than school! But after working hard all day in the hot sun,
even an abused being will get sleepy. So at last the curtain of sleep
fell on Whitey; of dreamless sleep--perhaps he was too mad to dream.

CHAPTER XXII

THE NEW ORDER

At midnight Whitey was awakened; awakened and almost strangled at the
same time. A hand was clamped across hi