“You were pretty well frightened last night,” said Philip, smiling.
“Who wouldn’t be!” asked Henry; “to wake up and see a big Indian in the room?”
“I dare say many boys would be frightened,” said Philip, “but I don’t think a boy who left home to go out West to kill Indians ought to be afraid of one.”
“I guess I’ll give up going,” said Henry, rather abashed.
“I think myself it would be as well,” observed Philip quietly. “You’d find it rather serious business if you should meet any real Indian warriors.”
“I don’t know but I should,” Henry admitted, rather awkwardly. “I didn’t think much about it when I left home.”
“I suppose you thought you’d be a match for half a dozen Indian warriors?” said Philip, laughing.
“That was the way with ‘Bully Bill’; or, ‘The Hero of the Plains,’” said Henry. “He always came off best when he fought with the Indians.”
“I don’t think either you or I will ever prove a Bully Bill,” said Philip. “I might enjoy going out West some time, but I shouldn’t expect to kill many Indians. I think they would stand a good deal better chance of shooting me.”
Henry said nothing, but looked thoughtful. His romantic ideas seemed to have received a sudden shock, and he was trying to adjust his ideas to the new light he had received.