"And say, Herb, father's got some business on hand this morning with a fellow from San Jose. Guess we can't have the mix-up here; makes too much noise. Let's have Ike take the boxes to Carl's room."

"That's fine. And don't open 'em till we get there. Tender an' I will be over in a jiffy."

"Fine work!" declared Carl heartily, when Jerry and Fred called on him and informed him that the uniforms had arrived. "Sure, bring them all over here."

"I'll go and get Dunk and Fly," volunteered Jerry; "Fred can look around at your things," for he noticed that his companion had already begun an inspection of Carl's small library.

The Indian had built a workmanlike row of shelves around his room, and these were crowded with books of all sorts, some of which he had bought out of his scant earnings, and some of which had been given him.

Everybody at the Fort knew that Carl was what they termed a "bookworm"

and at Christmas he was well remembered with the article he craved.

There was very little fiction, but Fred found ten grammars, six arithmetics, four histories--two of the United States--spellers, algebras, two biographies of Lincoln and Franklin, and the life stories of nearly all the great men of America. There were even text books on chemistry, astronomy and architecture, for, in his thirst for knowledge the young Indian found all subjects attractive. The Clevelander was also surprised to find a Bible, which his interest prompted him to open and examine. There were marginal notes in a youthful hand, presumably Carl's writing, and pa.s.sages underscored.

The Indian boy then, thought Fred, was as straight and true as his stature, and the high degree of honor which the boys and all at the Fort ascribed to him was well deserved.

There was a cot and several chairs in the room, all of which had been made by Carl himself. A worn blanket was stretched across the spotless floor. In one corner stood an old bow over six feet long, the one Carl had spoken of as belonging to his father.

There was but one picture, and it puzzled Fred somewhat. It was a large engraving of an imposing structure, much like a university building.

There was no inscription, and the style of engraving stamped it as old.

"What's this?" he asked Carl, who was stringing his bow and seeming to take no notice of Fred's examination.

"One of the soldiers here gave it to me and said it was the college he graduated from. I like to look at it." Then in answer to Fred's look of inquiry, the Indian added: "It helps me to save my pennies when I want to spend them for a traveling show at Silver City."

"Helps you save your pennies?" puzzled Fred, not comprehending the Indian's meaning.

"Yes. I'm trying to earn enough to go to a real school when I'm twenty.

Never too late, you know. I've been through the grammar grades."

"You have!" exclaimed Fred. "I thought the boys told me you hadn't been to school."

"Correspondence school," explained Carlito. "Here's my certificate."

He had arisen and taken a long envelope from the top drawer of the chest.

The certificate testified that Carlito had satisfactorily pa.s.sed all examinations, and was a full-fledged graduate of the correspondence school.

"How did you do it?" exclaimed Fred, his frank eyes shining with admiration. Just then Jerry, Fly and Dunk came into the room.

"Do what?" inquired Jerry.

"I was looking at Carlito's certificate," replied Fred, a.s.suming that the other boys had seen it.

"Oh, I studied nights a little, and whenever I got a chance," answered Carl, modestly.

"A little!" echoed Fly. "He just studied his old head off."

"Why didn't you go to college when Phipps wanted you to, Carl?" asked Dunk. "He was willin' to pay your way."

"I was afraid I could never pay him back," said Carl. "An Indian has no business owing anything to a white man, anyway."

"Here's Herb and Tender," shouted Fly, who had gone to the window.

The southerner and his cousin were soon in the room, hot and perspiring from their rapid ride over.

"Good mornin', gentlemen," greeted the rancher's son cheerfully, throwing aside his hat, and pouring out a gla.s.s of water from a pitcher which stood on the table. "Have a drink, anybody? No? Then I'll drink it myself," and he drained the gla.s.s. Carl quickly brought another one for Tender Gray.

"Make room for Ike," ordered Herb, as the darky came laboring up the stairs, a huge box on his back. The boys met him at the landing, and helped him to deposit his heavy load on the floor.

"Dere's some more," announced Ike. "Greaser just brought one over for Mr. Fred Windham."

"What's that," exclaimed the latter in surprise. "Oh, I guess it's that stuff Mr. Stanton spoke about in the letter," he recollected.

"Yuh fellahs must be gwine to start a store foh sure," exclaimed Ike, as he dropped the second box with a thud.

"Look out--that one was full of ripe watermelon," responded Gray.

"Oh, golly," groaned the negro, "An' I 'most drapt it."

"Be very careful of the next one," warned Jerry, with mock seriousness.

"It's loaded with spring chickens."

"Oh, das easy--I'll jes' open de box and let 'em fly up," answered the darky, dodging the hat which Gray pitched after him.

"Eeny, meeny, miny, mo--which one shall we open first?" queried Herb, when the three boxes had been set down in the room.

"Let me do it," volunteered Ike, with some curiosity, but a hasty chorus of protest stopped him.

"We want to do it ourselves," explained Fly. "It's more fun."

"You'er gwine to litter up this here room scan'lous," was the negro's comment, as he departed regretfully.

"I'll clean that up," hastily a.s.sured Carl.

"The big one first," urged Dunk.

"All hands on deck," ordered Herb.

"Say, Windy," interrupted Jerry, halting the proceedings. "Show the kids your letter."

"I clean forgot that," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the eastener, pulling a soiled envelope out of his pocket.

"I been readin' it," he explained guiltily, referring to its murky condition.

Work on the boxes was suspended for a few minutes, while Fred read the letter aloud.

"Things sure are comin' our way," said Herb, when the general shout of approval had died down. "Where's Hawke this morning?"

"I saw him right after breakfast, and he said he was coming over. He got the letter about being scout master, and--"