“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.”