e to suppression in childhood.

"It's something like the battle fever which will come out along about
the fourth or fifth generation," he said. "I suppose there's a certain
amount of talk that every man must do in his lifetime, and, having
been kept in a state of silence by my parents all through my youth,
I'm now letting myself loose in the woods."

"Don't apologize, Will," said Colden. "Your chatter is harmless, and
it lightens the spirits of us all."

"The talker has his uses," said Tayoga gravely. "My friend Lennox,
known to the Hodenosaunee as Dagaeoga, is golden-mouthed. The gift of
great speech descends upon him when time and place are fitting."

"And so you're an orator, are you?" said Carson, looking at Robert.

Young Lennox blushed.

"Tayoga is my very good friend," he replied, "and he gives me praise I
don't deserve."

"When one has a gift direct from Manitou," said the Onondaga, gravely,
"it is not well to deny it. It is a sign of great favor, and you must
not show ingratitude, Dagaeoga."

"He has you, Lennox," laughed Wilton, "but you needn't say more. I
know that Tayoga is right, and I'm waiting to hear you talk in a
crisis."

Robert blushed once more, but was silent. He knew that if he protested
again the young Philadelphians would chaff him without mercy, and he
knew at heart also that Tayoga's statement about him was true. He
remembered with pride his defeat of St. Luc in the great test of words
in the vale of Onondaga. But Wilton's mind quickly turned to another
subject. He seemed to exemplify the truth of his own declaration that
all the impulses bottled up in four or five generations of Quaker
ancestors were at last bursting out in him. He talked more than all
the others combined, and he rejoiced in the freedom of the wilderness.

"I'm a spirit released," he said. "That's why I chatter so."

"Perhaps it's just as well, Will, that while you have the chance you
should chatter to your heart's content, because at any time an Indian
arrow may cut short your chance for chattering," said Carson.

"I can't believe it, Hugh," said Wilton, "because if Providence was
willing to preserve us, when we camped squarely among the Indians, put
out no guards, and fairly asked them to come and shoot at us, then it
was for a purpose and we'll be preserved through greater and
continuous dangers."

"There may be something in it, Will. I notice that those who deserve
it least are often the chosen favorites o