t
being a hero wasn't what it was cracked up to be. When any one praised
him he was inclined to blush, and that made him sore at himself.

But the extraordinary effect of the affair was the change in Gil Steele.
As Bill Jordan said, it had "jarred Gil loose from his meanness." The
result of this jarring was that Gil presented Whitey with the iron-gray
colt, with _a silver-mounted saddle and bridle_. The neighborhood gasped
at that, and gasped again when Gil gave Injun a pair of gold-mounted
six-guns, with an embossed leather cartridge-belt and holsters. You can
imagine the figure Injun cut when decorated with these. And he slept
with them on.

And, pleasing to relate, Gil prospered more when he was generous than he
had when he was mean. In time he became very well off.

Things seemed to be coming Whitey's way, for the school problem was
solved, too. Mr. Sherwood brought this news from the East. John Big
Moose was to return. Not that John had been unsuccessful in the Eastern
college; far from that. He had gained the respect and esteem of the
students. It is true that they called him "Big Chief," but there was
more affection in the nickname than even the boys suspected.

But John was like many another man--and boy--who, when he gets what he
wants, finds that he doesn't want it so much, after all. It was not only
that John longed for the greater reaches and the free life of the West;
he felt a call to return to and to aid his own people. There were plenty
of men to teach in colleges; there were few who could help the Indians
as John could.

And he agreed to direct Injun and Whitey's studies until the time came
for them to go away to school, which would not be long.

So, with Henry Dorgan safely in jail awaiting trial, and a vacation in
prospect, pending John Big Moose's return, something must be done.
Wouldn't do for the boys to sit around twirling their thumbs. They began
to talk about this, or rather Whitey began to talk and Injun to slip in
a grunted word now and then; and suddenly Whitey had an idea.

Often on the plains and in the mountains Whitey had thought of the
pioneer days of the West; thoughts such as the country arouses in the
minds of all boys and of some men. Whitey could close his eyes and
imagine that he saw an old wagon train wending its way across the
prairie, its line of white-topped schooners drawn by drooping, tired
horses, its outriding guard of scouts, clad in buckskin, alert,
keen-eyed, eac