“Because it will be more proper for you to write. I am a stranger to him.”
“You won’t be long, Philip? I shall want you to come and make me a visit.”
“Perhaps you’ll be tired of me before we get to New York,” suggested Philip, with a smile.
“There isn’t much chance of it. I like you better than any boy I know. You’re awful brave, too. You didn’t seem to be at all scared last night when the Indian came in.”
“It was because I felt sure that any Indian to be found about here would be harmless.”
“I wish we could make a journey together some time. I’d like to go West—”
“To kill Indians?”
“No. If they’ll let me alone, I’ll let them alone; but there must be a lot of fun out on the prairies.”
“Well, Henry, go and write your letter, and we can talk about that afterward.”
The letter was written and mailed, and arrived in New York several days before the boys did.