"I'll go and get Dunk and Fly," volunteered Jerry; "Fred can look around at your things," for he noticed that his companion had already begun an inspection of Carl's small library.
The Indian had built a workmanlike row of shelves around his room, and these were crowded with books of all sorts, some of which he had bought out of his scant earnings, and some of which had been given him. Everybody at the Fort knew that Carl was what they termed a "bookworm" and at Christmas he was well remembered with the article he craved. There was very little fiction, but Fred found ten grammars, six arithmetics, four histories—two of the United States—spellers, algebras, two biographies of Lincoln and Franklin, and the life stories of nearly all the great men of America. There were even text books on chemistry, astronomy and architecture, for, in his thirst for knowledge the young Indian found all subjects attractive. The Clevelander was also surprised to find a Bible, which his interest prompted him to open and examine. There were marginal notes in a youthful hand, presumably Carl's writing, and passages underscored.
The Indian boy then, thought Fred, was as straight and true as his stature, and the high degree of honor which the boys and all at the Fort ascribed to him was well deserved.
There was a cot and several chairs in the room, all of which had been made by Carl himself. A worn blanket was stretched across the spotless floor. In one corner stood an old bow over six feet long, the one Carl had spoken of as belonging to his father.
There was but one picture, and it puzzled Fred somewhat. It was a large engraving of an imposing structure, much like a university building. There was no inscription, and the style of engraving stamped it as old.
"What's this?" he asked Carl, who was stringing his bow and seeming to take no notice of Fred's examination.
"One of the soldiers here gave it to me and said it was the college he graduated from. I like to look at it." Then in answer to Fred's look of inquiry, the Indian added: "It helps me to save my pennies when I want to spend them for a traveling show at Silver City."
"Helps you save your pennies?" puzzled Fred, not comprehending the Indian's meaning.
"Yes. I'm trying to earn enough to go to a real school when I'm twenty. Never too late, you know. I've been through the grammar grades."
"You have!" exclaimed Fred. "I thought the boys told me you hadn't been to school."