Some persons regard the Indians as a cruel and heartless race. I do not
hold with this opinion, but I am bound to state what Whitey's friend
Injun did now. He grinned--actually grinned. Whitey gave him a sad,
reproachful look, and with his package of lunch under his arm, slouched
into the schoolhouse.

It is needless to follow Whitey into this seat of learning. If this were
a record of the torments and horrors he underwent during his boyhood
days, it might be well to describe this period at length. But suffice it
to say that Jennie Adams, the teacher, was a young woman who, if given a
little time to think, could tell you, without using a paper or pencil,
how much six pounds of butter would cost at twelve cents a pound. Also,
that the girl pupils, of whom there were four,--those who rode the mules
double,--had a habit of tittering, also of leaning over close to each
and making whispered remarks about Whitey.

A week of this did not add to Whitey's thirst for knowledge, which was
not very strong at best, and it was just a week from this first day
that he was again riding toward the schoolhouse, and something
happened. It was another bright morning, and Whitey had reached a spot
where the road branched up into the foothills to avoid a marsh, when he
noticed signs of excitement in his pony, Monty. These signs would have
been stronger had the wind been blowing the other way, and had Monty's
nose made him aware of the exact danger that lurked near. As it was, his
ears, which were much keener than Whitey's, caught sounds of some
disturbing presence, and Whitey had difficulty in keeping him in the
road.

At a sharp turn, Whitey and Monty were greeted by a roar that was deeper