Mr.Mildini was chatty and not a bit stand-offish, as one might think a talented person would be.
So, when that old fall sun sank down toward the west, it outlined two shabby wagons, crawling along the lonely prairie.

Near one rode an eager white boy, occasionally leaning over and drinking in the wisdom that fell from the lips of a little Irishman; near the other, a pink-shirted Indian lad, stolid and silent, but in his breast burning the fever that stirs every boy who is going to a show..