“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.”

CHAPTER XLI.

An adventure in the woods.

“I shall do a good thing if I induce Henry to go home,” thought Philip.  “That is rather a queer idea of his about wanting to kill Indians.  It seems to me as much murder to kill an Indian as any one else.”

He only thought this, but did not express it, as he did not care to get into a discussion with his new acquaintance, lest the latter should recall his consent to go home.

“I say, Philip,” said Henry, who had now learned our hero’s name, “we ain’t in any hurry to go to New York, are we?”

“I thought we might take a train to-morrow morning, and go straight through.”

“But I’d rather take it easy, and travel through the country, and have adventures.”

“But you forget that your father will be anxious about you.”

“Yes, I suppose he will.”

“I’ll tell you what I’ll do.  If you’ll write a letter to your father, and let him know that you are safe with me, I’ll do as you say.”

“All right,” said Henry, in a tone of satisfaction; “I’ll do it.”

“Father’ll pay you all you have to spend for me,” Henry added, after a moment’s pause.

“Very well; then I will be your banker.”

Philip was not foolish enough to protest that he did not care to be repaid.  All he had in the world was a little less than a hundred dollars, and when that was gone he was not absolutely sure of making any more at once, though he felt tolerably confident that he could.

“Suppose you let me have ten dollars now,” suggested Henry.

“I think I would rather keep the money and pay the bills,” said Philip quietly.

He was not sure but that Henry, if he had a supply of money in his pockets, would reconsider his promise to go home and take French leave.

Of course, it would be extremely foolish, but his present expedition did not indicate the possession of much wisdom.