is beautiful? Injun and Whitey's ponies made short work of
the nine miles of road that skirted the foothills and led to the Forks,
the spirited animals seeming to drink in the bracing morning air that
swept down from the mountains as though it were a tonic, which indeed it
was.

The Forks was a spot at which a road that led down from the mountains
joined the road to the Junction. The mountain road was little more than
a trail, seldom traveled, and almost overgrown with grass, and where it
joined the other stood the shack which was used as a schoolhouse. This
shack had been built by some early homeseeker, who had long ago
abandoned it to seek other pastures. It was old and discouraged-looking,
and patched in spots with pieces of tin and boards. As a temple of
learning it was not an inviting-looking place.

The pupils evidently had assembled in the shack, for tied in the shelter
of some maples near by were four cayuses and two weary-looking mules.
There were eight scholars, as Whitey knew, so he guessed that the mules
carried double. Injun seemed much more cheerful on this occasion than
Whitey, who dismounted and tied Monty near the other animals. Then,
before entering for the sacrifice, he tiptoed over to the shack and
peeped into the window. He tiptoed back to where Injun sat calmly on his
pinto. There was a look of horror on Whitey's face.

"Girls!" he whispered.

Bill Jordan had not told Whitey that some of Miss Adams's pupils were of
the fair sex. He had left that as a pleasant surprise. And there were
just two things in life that Whitey was mortally afraid of--one was
girls and the other was school.

Some persons regard the Indians as a cruel and heartless race. I do not
hold with this opinion, but I am bound to state what Whitey's friend
Injun did now. He grinned--actually grinned. Whitey gave him a sad,
reproachful look, and with his package of lunch under his arm, slouched
into the schoolhouse.

It is needless to follow Whitey into this seat of learning. If this were
a record of the torments and horrors he underwent during his boyhood
days, it might be well to describe this period at length. But suffice it
to say that Jennie Adams, the teacher, was a young woman who, if given a
little time to think, could tell you, without using a paper or pencil,
how much six pounds of butter would cost at twelve cents a pound. Also,
that the girl pupils, of whom there were four,--those who rode the mules
double,--had a