And, too, Mr. Sherwood made certain concessions. The apprehension of the boys was so great at the thought of Whitey being in the wilds of Montana without a gun, that, after some hesitation, Whitey's father allowed a Winchester .22 calibre rifle, with a safety-lock, to be added to the equipment. It was expressly agreed, however, that the rifle must not be loaded until the boy had arrived at the ranch in Montana.
Mr. Sherwood put Whitey through a sort of drill, instructing him in the mechanical workings of the gun, and how to handle it under all circumstances—walking, running, climbing a fence or a hill or a tree, or on horse-back; and explaining that a different method must be used when a companion is with you than if you are alone. Whitey was made to understand that when not in use, the muzzle of a gun must point either straight up into the air or straight down at the ground, and never in the direction of any other person nor in the direction of himself. "And," said Mr. Sherwood, "if you ever aim the gun at any one, I will take it away from you and never let you have it again."
"But," said Whitey, "if the gun isn't loaded, what harm can it do?"
"That is exactly the trouble," said his father, impressively. "It is the guns that 'are not loaded' that kill somebody! Careless boys—and men, too—often think the gun isn't loaded, when it is, and that is the time when the damage is done! So, the only rule is, don't ever point a gun at any one whether it is unloaded or not!"
Whitey readily agreed to all these conditions, for he could see the wisdom of them. The corduroy suits were purchased and the wide-brimmed hat as well as two pairs of heavy shoes and a pair of water-proof boots that came high up on Whitey's legs above the knee. The compass—a small pocket one—was added to allay Tom's fear that Whitey might get lost in the wilderness of Butte! Then Mr. Sherwood added two things which the boys had not thought of—a big strong jack-knife and a camera.
"You boys will find that hunting with a camera is just about as much fun as hunting with a gun," said Mr. Sherwood. "It isn't necessary to kill every animal you run across. It is just as interesting and far less cruel to take his picture, and the animal likes it a great deal better—and you've got something to show afterward. And as for the jack-knife, you'll find that to be one of the most useful things you can have when you are in the wilds."
"Yes," said the excited Bobby, "an' if Whitey kills an Indian, he can take his picture first, with the camera, and scalp him afterwards with the knife!"
"You don't ever scalp an Indian—nobody does!" said Tom, reprovingly.
"Father says it ain't open season for Indians now—the sheriff won't let any one kill 'em," said Whitey, a little disgustedly. "They put 'em to work on the rock-pile if they get gay, like they used to. Besides," he added, with an air of superior wisdom, "the Indians are kind o' dyin' out, anyway—just like buffaloes—and the ones that don't die go to Carlisle College, or some place."
"Gee!" said George, "I saw the Carlisle football team play over at the Polo Grounds last fall! They didn't look as though they were 'dyin' out!' They 'put it all over' some Eastern college! I wouldn't advise Whitey to try to scalp one of those fellows!"