y, while Rube Carter was occupied in the
work of unloading the canoe and setting the cabin in order, Kiddie
engaged himself in opening his delayed correspondence and writing
letters.

Many of the letters he opened were business communications from his
lawyers in London, requiring immediate attention. Some were letters
from friends in England, regretting his absence and imploring him to
return. The one that he left to the last was addressed in a familiar
handwriting, and he read it with close interest.

MY DEAR COUSIN HARRY,--

Do you remember once when we sat together in the billiard-room at St.
Olave, and you were yarning to me about Buckskin Jack and Gideon
Birkenshaw and the Pony Express? I said something about wishing I
could go out West again and enjoy some such adventures as yours, and
you said: "Well, you'd better come out with me." I don't know what I
answered, but I believe you thought I didn't quite take to the idea,
and you went off suddenly without repeating the invitation.

Now, however, I'm not going to wait to be asked. Since you didn't take
me with you, I am going to come out on my own. I want to see you
again, Kiddie. I want to be your chum for a few weeks, and share your
life in that shack in the Bush that you were going to build. By this
time you ought to be pining for a companion.

There are so many things I want to do and to see, with you to teach me.
Golf and tennis and billiards are all very well, but I yearn for the
wide spaces and the wilds. I want to see a real herd of buffalo and a
pack of wolves, and to go bear hunting, to do some trapping, and to see
some Indians--not the imitation article that hangs around on railway
stations wearing breeches and a top hat, but the real noble savage, the
wigwam Redskin with painted face and feathered head-dress. But more
than all, I want to live in the same world of adventure with you. So I
am coming out West. Before you get this letter I shall have started,
and some day very soon you may meet me riding along the trail on my way
to Sweetwater Bridge.

Then when I have had enough of it, I count upon your coming back home
to England with me. This is imperative. There are heaps of important
things waiting for you to do and to see to here.

Always your affectionate cousin,
HAROLD FRITTON.

P.S.--Give my love to Sheila, and stroke her velvet ears for me.

Kiddie drew a deep breath. Rube Carter, who was behind him dusting the
boo