"
"But it is only a youth who asks an interview."
"Does he look like an insurance agent? If so, say that I have
already policies in three Hartford companies. Meanwhile prepare
the stake, and see that the squaws are ready with their implements
of torture."
The youth was admitted; he was evidently only half the age of the
Boy Chief. As he entered the wigwam and stood revealed to his host
they both started. In another moment they were locked in each
other's arms.
"Jenky, old boy!"
"Bromley, old fel!"
B. F. Jenkins, for such was the name of the Boy Chief, was the
first to recover his calmness. Turning to his warriors he said,
proudly--
"Let my children retire while I speak to the agent of our Great
Father in Washington. Hereafter no latch keys will be provided for
the wigwams of the warriors. The practice of late hours must be
discouraged."
"How!" said the warriors, and instantly retired.
"Whisper," said Jenkins, drawing his friend aside; "I am known here
only as the Boy Chief of the 'Pigeon toes.'"
"And I," said Bromley Chitterlings, proudly, "am known everywhere
as the Pirate Prodigy--the Boy Avenger of the Patagonian Coast.
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