Philip had lived so long in a country village that he had never chanced to read any of those absorbing romances in which one boy, of tender years, proves himself a match for a dozen Indians, more or less, and, therefore, he was very much amazed at Henry Taylor's avowal that he was going out West to kill Indians.

“What do you want to kill Indians for?” he asked, after an astonished pause.

Now it was Henry's turn to be astonished.

“Every boy wants to kill Indians,” he answered, looking pityingly at our hero.

“What for? What good will it do?” asked Philip.

“It shows he's brave,” answered his new friend. “Didn't you ever read the story of 'Bully Bill'; or, The Hero of the Plains'?”

“I never heard of it,” said Philip.

“You must have lived in the woods, then,” said Henry Taylor, rather contemptuously. “It's a tip-top story. Bully Bill was only fourteen, and killed ever so many Indians—twenty or thirty, I guess—as well as a lot of lions and bears. Oh, he must have had lots of fun!”

“Why didn't the Indians kill him?” asked Philip, desirous of being enlightened. “They didn't stand still and let him kill them, did they?”

“No; of course not. They fought awful hard.”

“How did one young boy manage to overcome so many Indians?”

“Oh, you'll have to read the story to find out! Bully Bill was a great hero, and everybody admired him.”

“So you wanted to imitate his example?” asked Philip.

“To be sure I did.”

“How did you happen to get out of money?”

“Well,” said Henry, “you see me and another boy got awful excited after reading the story, and both concluded nothing could make us so happy as to go out West together, and do as Bill did. Of course, it was no use to ask the old man—”

“The old man?” queried Philip.

“The gov'nor—father, of course! So we got hold of some money—”

“You got hold of some money?” queried Philip.

“That's what I said, didn't I?” rejoined Henry irritably.

“Yes.”

“Then what's the use of repeating it?”

Philip intended to ask where or how Henry got hold of the money, but he saw pretty clearly that this would not be agreeable to his new acquaintance. Though without much experience in the world, he suspected that the money was not obtained honestly, and did not press the question.

“Well, me and Tom started about a week ago. First of all, we bought some revolvers, as, of course, we should need them to shoot Indians. They cost more than we expected, and then we found it cost more to travel than we thought.”

“How much money did you have?”

“After paying for our revolvers, Tom and me had about thirty dollars,” said Henry.

“Only thirty dollars to go west with!” exclaimed Philip, in amazement.

“Why, you see, the revolvers cost more than we expected. Then we stopped at a hotel in Albany, where they charged us frightfully. That is where Tom left me.”

“Tom left you at Albany?”

“Yes, he got homesick!” said Henry contemptuously. “He thought we hadn't money enough, and he said he didn't know as he cared so much about killing Indians.”

“I agree with Tom,” said Philip. “I don't think I should care very much about killing Indians myself, and I should decidedly object to being killed by an Indian. I shouldn't like to be scalped. Would you?”

“Oh, I'd take care of that,” said Henry. “I wouldn't let them have the chance.”

“It seems to me the best way would be to stay at home,” said Philip, smiling.

“If I stayed at home I'd have to go to school and study. I don't care much about studying.”

“I like it,” said Philip. “So Tom left you, did he?”

“Yes; but I wasn't going to give up so easy. He took half the money that was left, though I thought he ought to have given it to me, as I needed it more. I wasn't going home just as I'd started.”

“Then you've spent all your money now?”

“Yes,” answered Henry gloomily. “Have you got much money?” he asked, after a pause.

“Yes, I have about a hundred dollars-say, ninety-five.”

“You don't mean it!” ejaculated Henry, hie eyes sparkling.

“Yes, I do.”

“How did you get it?”

“I earned most of it by playing on the violin.”

“I say,” exclaimed Henry, in excitement, “suppose you and me go into partnership together, and go out West—”

“To kill Indians?” asked Philip, smiling.

“Yes! With all that money we'll get along. Besides, if we get short, you can earn some more.”

“But what advantage am I to get out of it? I am to furnish all the capital and pay all expenses, as far as I can understand. Generally, both partners put in something.”

“I put in my revolver,” said Henry.

“One revolver won't do for us both.”

“Oh, well, you can buy one. Come, what do you say?” asked Henry eagerly.

“Let me ask you a few questions first. Where does your father live?”

“In New York.”

“What is his business?”

“He is a broker in Wall Street.”

“I suppose he is rich?”

“Oh, he's got plenty of money, I expect! We live in a nice house on Madison Avenue. That's one of the best streets, I suppose you know!”

“I never was in New York. Is your mother living?”

“No,” answered Henry. “She died three years ago.”

If his mother had been living, probably the boy would never have made such an escapade, but his father, being engrossed by business cares, was able to give very little attention to his son, and this accounts in part for the folly of which he had been guilty.

“Have you got any brothers or sisters?” he asked.

“I have one sister, about three years younger than I. Her name is Jennie.”

“I wish I were as well off as you,” said Philip.

“How do you mean?”

“I mean I wish I had a father and sister.”

“Haven't you?”

“My father is dead,” said Philip gravely, “and I never had a sister.”

“Oh, well, I don't know as I'm so lucky,” said Henry. “Sisters are a bother. They want you to go round with them, and the old man is always finding fault.”

Philip's relations with his father had always been so affectionate that he could not understand how Henry could talk in such a way of his.

“I don't know what makes you ask me such a lot of questions,” said Henry, showing impatience. “Come, what do you say to my offer?”

“About forming a partnership?”

“Yes.”

“I'd rather not—in that way.”

“In what way?”

“I mean for the purpose of going out West to kill Indians.”

“You've no idea what fun it would be,” said Henry, disappointed.

“No, I suppose not,” said Philip, smiling.

“Then I suppose I shall have to give it up,” said Henry.

“Now I have a proposal to make to you,” said Philip.

“What is it?”

“If you agree to go home, I'll pay your expenses and go along with you. I've never been to New York, and I'd like to have some one with me that could show me round the city.”

“I can do that,” said Henry. “I know the way all about.”

“Then will you agree?”

“Yes.”

“Then come along, and we'll stop at the first convenient place and get some supper.”