ing matters the
little town and the dusty lanes became exceedingly tame and commonplace.

Harold's eyes glowed with passion as he talked to his sweetheart of
these wild scenes, and she listened because he was so alluring as he lay
at her feet, pouring out a vivid recital of his plans.

"I'm not going to stay here much longer," he said; "it's too dull. I
can't stand much more school. If it wasn't for you I'd run away right
now."

Dot only smiled back at him and laid her hand on his hair. She was his
latest sweetheart. He loved her for her vivid color, her abundant and
beautiful hair, and also because she was a sympathetic listener. She, on
her part, enjoyed the sound of his eager voice and the glow of his deep
brown eyes. They were both pupils in the little seminary in the town,
and he saw her every day walking to and from the recitation halls. He
often carried her books for her, and in many other little ways insisted
on serving her.

Almost without definable reason the "Wild West" came to be a land of
wonder, lit as by some magical light. Its canons, _arroyos_, and
mesquite, its bronchos, cowboys, Indians, and scouts filled the boy's
mind with thoughts of daring, not much unlike the fancies of a boy in
the days of knight errantry.

Of the Indians he held mixed opinions. At times he thought of them as a
noble race, at others--when he dreamed of fame--he wished to kill a
great many of them and be very famous. Most of the books he read were
based upon the slaughter of the "redskins," and yet at heart he wished
to be one of them and to taste the wild joy of their poetic life, filled
with hunting and warfare. Sitting Bull, Chief Gall, Rain-in-the-Face,
Spotted Tail, Star-in-the-Brow, and Black Buffalo became wonder-working
names in his mind. Every line in the newspapers which related to the
life of the cowboys or Indians he read and remembered, for his plan was
to become a part of it as soon as he had money enough to start.

There were those who would have contributed five dollars each to send
him, for he was considered a dangerous influence among the village boys.
If a window were broken by hoodlums at night it was counted against the
minister's son. If a melon patch were raided and the fruit scattered and
broken, Harold was considered the ringleader. Of the judgments of their
elders the rough lads were well aware, and they took pains that no word
of theirs should shift blame from Harold's shoulders to their own. By