"Surprised nothing," retorted Whitey. "Did you like it when you were a
kid?"

"Nope," Bill confessed promptly. "But I'm dern sorry I didn't, now. You
ain't got no idea what a handicap a feller's under what ain't got no
eddication."

Whitey thought that what Bill had just said had given him a pretty good
idea of the handicap, but he was wise enough to say nothing. Bill sat
down and began to roll a cigarette.

"O' course, they's a lot of things in life that you can't learn outa
books," Bill said. "But th' feller with th' book-learnin' generally has
th' upper hand. There's one thing books never rightly teached no boy,
an' that's lookin' ahead. I've often wondered why they didn't pay more
'tention t' that, but mostly a boy has t' learn it for himself. If he
happens t' be born in the wilderness he just nach'lly has t' learn it,
or I reckon he'd die."

Whitey fidgeted about, knowing that Bill was on one of his favorite
topics, and wouldn't stop and tell the rest of his news until he was run
down.

"Take Injun, f'r instance," Bill went on. "He's got a way o' figurin'
out things that's wonderful, an' once in a while that way o' figurin'
has saved his life. They's a highbrow word for that stuff, an' it's
'observation.' You just stick to that observation thing, kid, an' you'll
find it a heap o' use t' you in this country."

Whitey knew of Injun's wonderful powers of observation which he had