Y.

"That's very kind of Reggy," said Roy. "Indians and buffaloes! Poor
Indians. If he ever comes here, we'll teach him to shoot the shutes. If
he's a good shot maybe we'll let him shoot the rapids."

"They all think America is full of Indians," said Winton.

"Indian pudding," said Roy; "_mmm, mmm!_"

"Well, let's see the newspaper," said Tom. "I don't suppose there's
anything particular in that. Somebody that lived in England has been
trying to go up the mountain--_maybe_. That's about all we know. We
don't know that, even. But anyway, he hasn't come back."

"Maybe he's up there shooting Indians and buffaloes," said Roy. "We
should worry."

"When was it he came here?" Tom asked.

"'Bout several days ago, I reckon," said Mr. Berry.

"That light's been up there all summer," Winton said.

"Until to-night," Tom added.

For a few moments no one spoke.

"Well, let's see the paper," said Tom, as he took it and began looking
it over. He had not glanced at many of the headings when one attracted
his attention. Following it was an article which he read carefully.

AUTOIST KILLS CHILD

Negligence and Reckless Driving Responsible for Accident

DRIVER ESCAPES

An accident which will probably prove fatal occurred on the road
above Hillsburgh yesterday when a car described as a gray
roadster ran down and probably mortally injured Willy Corbett,
the eight-year-old son of Thomas Corbett of that place.

Two laborers in a nearby field, who saw the accident, say
that the machine was running on the left side of the road where
the child was playing and that but for this reckless violation of
the traffic law, the little fellow would not have been run down.
The driver was apparently holding to the left of the road,
because the running was better there.

Exactly what happened no one seems to know. The autoist
stopped, and started again, and when the two laborers had reached
the spot where the child lay, the machine was going at the rate
of at least forty miles an hour.

All efforts of town and county authorities to locate the gray
roadster have failed.

"That's only about ten miles from where I live," said Gilbert Tyson.

Tom seemed to be thinking. "Let's look at that letter again," said he.
"Humph," he added and handed it back to Roy.

"What?" Roy asked.

"Nothing," said Tom. "I guess this is t