ere setting off in the
direction of Arkansas City and elsewhere.

"Something curious about them air Arbuckles," observed Rasco as they
flew along side by side. "Mortimer Arbuckle said as how he was coming
hyer fer his health, but kick me ef I kin see it."

"I think myself the man has an axe to grind," responded the leader of
the boomers. "You know he came West to see about some land."

"Oh, I know thet. But thar's somethin' else, sure ez shootin' ez
shootin', Pawnee. It kinder runs in my noddle thet he is a'lookin' fer
somebuddy."

"Who?"

"Ah, thar's where ye hev got me. But I'll tell ye something. One night
when the boy wuz over ter Arkansas City the old man war sleeping in the
wagon, an' he got a nightmare. He clenched his fists an' begun ter moan
an' groan. 'Don't say I did it, Bolange,' he moans. 'Don't say
that--it's an awful crime! Don't put the blood on my head!' an' a lot
more like thet, till my blood most run cold an' I shook him ter make him
wake up. Now, don't thet look like he had something on his mind?"

"It certainly does, and yet the man is not quite right in his upper
story, although I wouldn't tell the son that, Rasco. But what was the
name he mentioned?"

"Bolange, or Volange, or something like thet. It seems ter me he
hollered out Louis onct, too."

A sudden light shone in the great scout's eyes. He gripped his companion
by the arm.

"Try to think, Jack. Did Arbuckle speak the name of Vorlange--Louis
Vorlange?"

"By gosh! Pawnee, you hev struck it--Vorlange, ez plain ez day. Do yer
know the man?"

"Do I know him?" Pawnee Brown drew a long breath. "Jack, I believe I
once told you about my schoolboy days at Wellington and elsewhere before
I left home to take up a life on the cattle trails?"

"Yes, Pawnee. From all accounts you wuz cut out for a schoolmaster,
instead of a leader of us boomers."

"I was a professor once at the Indian Industrial school at Pawnee
Agency. That is where I got to be called Pawnee Brown, and where the
Pawnees became so friendly that they made me their white chief. But I
aspired to something more than teaching and more than cow punching in
those boyhood days at Wellington; I wanted to have a try at entrance to
West Point and follow in the footsteps of Grant and Custer, and fellows
of that sort."

"Ye deserved it, I'll bet, Pawnee."

"I worked hard for it, and at last I got a chance to compete at the
examination. Among the other boys who competed was Louis V