However, he gathered that String had returned from the mine on account of an injury to his foot, caused by a piece of rock falling on it.  That there had been some excitement at the mine, owing to a “bug hole” being discovered.  Whitey learned afterwards this was a sort of pocket caused by the dripping of water, and containing a small but very rich quantity of ore.  Whitey also heard something about a certain date, on which the three were to be at a certain place, but here, to his disgust, the voices were again lowered, as if in caution.

On the whole, though this secret meeting seemed suspicious, the boy did not learn enough to form a basis for action.  Presently the men went away, and after waiting until he considered it safe, Whitey left the bunk house, followed by the faithful Bull.  Whitey decided not to tell Bill Jordan what he had heard.  Bill probably would only poke fun at him and hand him one of those arguments he couldn’t answer.

But the next day he took Injun into his confidence.  Injun had no use for String and Ham, and furthermore was a person who could keep a secret.  And here was something for the boys to keep to themselves—­a mystery,—­something to be solved.  They would lie low and await events.  It made them feel quite important.

CHAPTER III

MYSTERY

Awaiting events did not seem a very thrilling occupation.  Of course, there was always John Big Moose’s tutoring to fill in the gaps, but that was less thrilling than just waiting, if possible.  The teaching took place in the big living-room of the ranch house, a room with a great stone fireplace, the stone for which had been carted down from the mountains; with walls decorated with Indian trophies—­tomahawks, bows and arrows, stone pipes and hatchets, knives—­and with beadwork, snowshoes, and many other interesting things.  All these were enough to take a fellow’s mind off his lessons, and besides there was the floor, with its bear and moose and panther skins, each with its history.

And outside, viewed through the big windows, was the rolling prairie, with the touch of early fall on it, sometimes revealed in a light curtain of haze, at which a fellow could gaze and imagine he saw the squaws of the savage tribes gathering the maize for the coming winter’s store, while the braves rode off to hunt the buffalo.

Yes, it was rather distracting, but John Big Moose was very patient about the lessons, though he had been eager for knowledge himself.  He had worked his way through a Western college, spurred on by the hope of bettering his people, the Dakotas, and he had bettered them.  And when Mr. Sherwood, Whitey’s father, had gone East, with the understanding that John was to tutor Whitey and Injun, John had resolved to do his best.

But this other Injun, Whitey’s pal, was not what you might call eager for knowledge.  Reading and writing were all right, and might be put to some practical use, but arithmetic seemed rather useless, and when it came to the “higher branches,” geometry and trigonometry, they loomed up to Injun like a bugbear of the future.  In his heart Injun pined for his truly loved field of study—­the great outdoors.