"Your father's sent for him," answered Bill. Mr. Sherwood's business had
again taken him to the big city. "An' now that this here gold mine's
turnin' out so well," Bill continued, "an' John has some money, your
father don't think it's fair t' keep him here teachin' a couple o' kids,
when there's a big openin' for John right there in New York. An' it
seems your father's got John some job as a chemist, though goin' into a
drug store don't seem no big openin' t' me," Bill added thoughtfully.

"John isn't going to be a drug clerk," Whitey said, disgusted at Bill's
ignorance. Whitey knew something of the big Indian's ambitions, having
heard him discuss them with Mr. Sherwood. "Father probably has heard of
an opening in some college, where John can become an instructor in
chemistry."

Bill didn't know what that meant, either, but, not wishing to display
his ignorance further, he said hastily, "Oh, that's diff'runt."

"When's John going?" demanded Whitey.

"Right off. Gonna drive him t' th' Junction to-day."

"Then no more lessons!" cried Whitey. "We'll be off for a hunting trip.
I hear Moose Lake is just loaded with wild geese. Where's Injun? I must
run and tell him."

"Wait a minit," cautioned Bill. "There's somethin' more. But first I
must tell you how s'prised an' pained you make me by showin' this here
dislike for learnin'."