"Won't they worry about you?"
"Just at first, but I shall write to them when I am far enough away. They'll be proud enough of me, when they read about my exploits. Maybe there'll be a play written about me. When I get home I shouldn't mind going round, playing in it myself. Have you got any money?"
"No, only my fare to New York and a quarter over."
"Then it would be no use for you to go with me. It'll take money to get out West, and to pay for a gun and ammunition. I shall get them at Chicago, I think."
"Have you considerable money with you?" Dean ventured to inquire.
"A little over a hundred dollars. You see I had that much in the Savings Bank. It's presents I've got from different persons in the last five years. I drew it all out a day or two since, and decided to start out in search of glory."
"I don't think you ought to go without letting your folks know about it," said Dean.
"Oh, they would oppose it, of course. They think I'm a baby, but I'm a year older than Daredevil Dick, the Young Hunter of the Rio Grande. I suppose you've read about him?"
"No, I never heard of him."