Mr. Sherwood, "Whitey's" father, had just finished reading aloud a letter from a firm of lawyers in Montana which stated that Uncle Robert Granville, who died some weeks before, had left a will bequeathing his large ranch and everything on it to Mr. Sherwood; and that, as the ranch was a profitable one, it would be necessary for him to come to Montana and either carry on the business or see to its disposal.
"Hooray! Hooray!" yelled "Whitey," executing a very wild dance, and letting out a series of whoops that almost deafened the other members of the family.
"What are you 'hooraying' about?" asked Mr. Sherwood, while his wife and his two small sisters held their hands over their ears. "I hope," said Mr. Sherwood, with a quizzical smile, "it is not because your poor uncle Robert is dead?"
"Why, of course not, Father," said "Whitey," somewhat abashed; "I'm very sorry that Uncle Robert is dead—but—I'm just glad that I'm going out West and can go hunting and be a cowboy, and maybe shoot a few grizzly bears and Indians!"
"Who told you that you were going?" asked his father, pretending to be very serious, but having hard work to keep back a smile.
"Well, I'd just like to see myself staying here if we owned a ranch out West!" said "Whitey," with fine scorn. "I've heard you say, lots of times, that the West is the place for a young man!"
Whitey had just attained the age of fourteen, and Mr. Sherwood had to conceal a smile behind his hand, as he glanced at his wife, who was an interested listener.
"And what do you want to kill Indians for—they never did anything to you, did they?" asked Mr. Sherwood.
"No," said Whitey, hesitating about making such an admission, "I don't know as they ever did anything to me—but everybody kills 'em, don't they? In all the Western books I read, people always kill 'em—'wipe 'em out' is what the scouts call it in the books—make 'em 'bite the dust!' I thought that was the proper thing to do," he said, in defense of his position.
"Well," said Mr. Sherwood, "I think I'd give the matter a little consideration before I started the slaughter. It isn't open season for Indians just now, and besides, if the Indians should happen to hear that you were coming, they might all leave, while there is yet time to escape the White Avenger! And as for the grizzlies—did you ever see a grizzly bear, Son?"