Injun and Whitey to the Rescue

e Bar O in its grip. And though winter was no gentle thing in Montana, there was a tingle in the cold, sharp air that made a boy want to whoop and to get on his snowshoes and go after rabb

erved that form of expres

the ranch from New York, stopping over at St. Paul, on his way, to buy supplies. And as the snow was not too deep for sleighing, Whitey drove down to the Junction, with B

ll this there was another thing that naturally came to his mind. Mr. Sherwood would not come back to the ranch without bringing Whitey some sort of present, and his father was singularly silent about what this was. I

e things that were in it, and his eyes popped out, and for a momen

a bit he rushed over and a

he never had owned any. In New York all the boys wore shoes, and when Whitey had come to the ranch he had worn them, to

little bead decorations. In the cold of winter, when the snow was deep, and when the big thaws came, Whitey wore heavy, moccasin-like

wboys on the ranch their boots. For you must know that there are two things on which a puncher spends his mone

d them. And they were beauties; with tops of soft leather with fancy stitching, inlaid with white enameled leather, and high heels, that a fellow could dig

nd I doubt if he could have done it. I know that Bacon could not. Whitey's first impulse was to put the boots on, and go out and show them t

stretch out his legs and admire the boots. Then he would twist his feet about so that he could get a good view of the high heels. Then he would double up his knees, and fairly hug the boots. And if

re there, just finishing the meal, and rolling their after-breakfast cigarettes. Whitey sat down, sort of offhand and careless-like, and to his pain

them, and feeling of the leather, and estimating how much they cost. After a while Injun arrived. Now, Injun did not care about

s, and the horses and the pigs-all the stock, in fact-had a good look at the boots. And Si

was also the postoffice, and every man, woman, and child that happened to be there at mail-time had a f

s frozen over, with its first solid covering of ice. Now, the Indians never fish in the summer-time. Few white people know about it, but the Indians don't like to fish. They only eat fish when they ca

le in the ice, and lies down on the blanket and industriously watches the hole. You know that fish are very inquisitive, and when Mr. Inq

too,-Harrowing Trouble,-but Whitey didn't know it. On the frozen river were about a dozen tepees, standing up something like big stacks of cor

is reception was very gratifying. Little Eagle was the owner's name, and he didn't care much about boots, b

dark. And Whitey didn't fall into the hole in the ice-he walked into it. His life was not in danger, because he didn't mind a little cold water, and the Indian ly

t them off, two pulling on each boot, and two to hold Whitey. And when they were off, Whit

fact, it held four or five such sticks of cordwood, which, you can imagine, made a good fire. And straight to this fire went Whitey. He was wet, and he was ashamed. And he put the bo

eavens fall? What once was a pair of proud boots, looked like two little, brown wrinkled apples! It was

, Whitey ran, and his father, not knowing why, I suspect, ran after him. Whitey was fleet of foot, and much smaller than his f

of a superior enemy-at least, when he couldn't run any farther. When he was finally run down, he backed into a corner, lifted

it was, his father paused and looked at him sternly; then his piercing blue eyes began to soften, and signs of his s