Each evening Billy would come home with the same question on his lips: "Has my magazine arrived?"
But New York is a long way from Arizona, and it was many weeks before the magazine, in which the winning story was to appear, at last came.
It was one evening after Billy had had a particularly exciting day chasing buffaloes (in the form of tame sheep) with Bah, that he came home to find his magazine awaiting him. It had not been opened and was lying on his little desk. It was addressed to him—and inside it was—maybe—his story! He longed to find out, but he couldn't move his fingers to open the wrapper.
He suddenly grew hot all over and realized then how he longed to see that story inside those covers. If he had been an Indian instead of a white boy he would have made a prayer stick and prayed via the eagle feather to the Great Father.
The next morning Father and Mother found Billy curled up in a big chair in the living room poring over his magazine. They could not see his face.
Father took up his paper, but before starting to read he remarked: "Who's the lucky winner of the radio, Son?"
Billy did not answer, but arose from his chair and brought the magazine over, to Father. Father glanced at the page with a wicked smile, and remarked: "Needless to say, it wasn't a chap named William!"
Billy, his head drooping, left the room, and Mother felt sorry for him. So did Father. In fact I think Father was sorry for what he had said, as he got up and called him back.
It was then that Billy told Father what he had done—all about it from the first day that the idea had occurred to him until the moment when he had, with trembling fingers, opened the magazine and found....
"You're a good boy, Bill," said Father, "and I've been wronging you."