“Aren’t you an Indian?” asked Ned.
“A full blooded one, and the chief of a tribe,” spoke the red man. “But I am not the half dime library sort.
“You see,” he went on, “I have just come back from the school at Carlisle, where I am taking a post graduate course. I felt a sudden longing to don the dress of my ancestors, and roam the broad fields. I did so, starting from my home on the reservation this morning. I came along and saw the auto. As I said, the temptation was too strong to resist. I got in and took a little spin, as you saw. I am sorry if I caused you annoyance, or made you fear your machine had been stolen.”
The eyes of the Indian twinkled and, beneath the paint on his face, the boys could see a smile coming.
“But how in the world did you learn to run a car?” asked Jerry.
“Easy enough,” was the answer. “I acted as chauffeur for several months this vacation to earn money enough to continue my studies. I got to be quite an expert. That is a fine car you have.”
“Well I’m stumped!” exclaimed Bob.
“How do you like my pony?” asked the red man. “I think we made a sort of unfair exchange, though, in spite of the fact that the animal is valuable. Now let me apologize once more, and then I will take my animal and go home.”
“You are welcome to the ride,” said Jerry. “We were so surprised at first that we took you for a thief.”
“I don’t blame you,” spoke the Indian. “The sight of a red man in an automobile is enough to make any one wonder. Well, heap big chief, Whistling Wind in the Pine, must go.”