ed for a soft felt of ordinary dimensions.
He bought shoes, socks, and some underwear, which the storekeeper
assured him was the latest thing, but which Pete said "looked more like
chicken-wire than honest-to-Gosh cloth," and fortified by his new and
inconspicuous apparel, he called on the principal of the high school
and told him just why he had come to Tucson. "And I'd sure look queer
settin' in with all the kids," Pete concluded. "If there's any way of
my ketchin' up to my size, why, I reckon I kin pay."

The principal thought it might be arranged. For instance, he would be
glad to give Pete--he said Mr. Annersley--an introduction to an
instructor, a young Eastern scholar, who could possibly spare three or
four evenings a week for private lessons. Progress would depend
entirely upon Pete's efforts. Many young men had studied that
way--some of them even without instruction. Henry Clay, for instance,
and Lincoln. And was Mr. Annersley thinking of continuing with his
studies and entering college, or did he merely wish to become
conversant with the fundamentals?

"If I kin git so I can throw and hog-tie some of them fundamentals
without losin' my rope, I reckon I'll be doin' all I set out to do.
No--I guess I'd never make a top-hand, ridin' for you. But my rope is
tied to the horn--and I sure aim to stay with whatever I git my loop
on."

"I get your drift--and I admire your purpose. Incidentally and
speaking from a distinctly impersonal--er--viewpoint" (no doubt a
high-school principal may speak from a viewpoint, or even sit on one if
he cares to), "your colloquialisms are delightful--and sufficiently
forceful to leave no doubt as to your sincerity of purpose."

"Meanin' you sabe what I'm gittin' at, eh?"

The principal nodded and smiled.

"I thought that was what you was tryin' to say. Well, professor--"

"Dr. Wheeler, if you please."

"All right, Doc. But I didn't know you was a doc too."

"Doctor of letters, merely."

Pete suspected that he was being joked with, but the principal's manner
was quite serious. "If you will give me your address, I will drop a
line to Mr. Forbes," said the principal.

Pete gave his name and address. As Principal Wheeler wrote them down
in his notebook he glanced up at Pete curiously. "You don't happen to
be the young man--er--similarity of names--who was mixed up in that
shooting affair in El Paso? Name seemed familiar. No doubt a
coincidence."

"It wa'n't n