“Some years ago I felt that I was well on my way to success, for I found a youth who offered every promise of great manhood.  I studied him until I knew his every trait and his every strength—­he didn’t seem to have any weaknesses.  I raised him according to my own ideas; he became a tall, straight fellow, handsome as a bronze statue of a god.  Physically he was perfect, and he had a mind as fine as his body.  He had the best blood of his nation in him, being the son of a war chief, and he was called Thomas Running Elk.  I educated him at the Agency school under my own personal supervision, and on every occasion I studied him.  I spent hours in shaping his mind and in bending him away from the manners and the habits of his tribe.  I taught him to think like a white man.  He responded like a growing vine; he became the pride of the reservation—­a reserved but an eager youth, with an understanding and a wit beyond that of most white boys of his age.  Search him as rigorously as I might, I couldn’t find a single flaw.  I believed I was about to prove my theory.

“Running Elk romped through our school, and he couldn’t learn fast enough; when he had finished I sent him East to college, and, in order to wean him utterly away from the past, instead of sending him to an Indian school I arranged for him to enter one of the big Eastern universities, where no Indian had ever been, where constant association with the flower of our race would by its own force raise him to a higher level.  Well, it worked.  He led his classes as a stag leads a herd.  He was a silent, dignified, shadowy figure; his fellow-students considered him unapproachable, nevertheless they admired and they liked him.  In all things he excelled; but he was best, perhaps, in athletics, and for this I took the credit—­a Jovian satisfaction in my work.

“News of his victories on track and field and gridiron came to me regularly, for his professors were interested in my experiment.  As for the boy himself, he never wrote; it was not his nature.  Nor did he communicate with his people.  He had cut himself off from them, and I think he looked down upon them.  At intervals his father came to the Agency to inquire about Running Elk, for I did not allow my protege to return even during vacations.  That was a part of my plan.  At my stories of his son’s victories the father made no comment; he merely listened quietly, then folded his blanket about him and slipped away.  The old fellow was a good deal of a philosopher; he showed neither resentment nor pleasure, but once or twice I caught him smiling oddly at my enthusiasm.  I know now what was in his mind.

“It was in Running Elk’s senior year that a great thing came to him, a thing I had counted upon from the start.  He fell in love.  A girl entered his life.  But this girl didn’t enter as I had expected, and when the news reached me I was completely taken aback.  She was a girl I had dandled on my knees as a child, the only daughter of an old friend.  Moreover, instead of Running Elk being drawn to her, as I had planned, she fell desperately in love with him.