. This aroused him, and he called,
repeatedly,--

"Mother! mother!"

"Hush," she whispered, at last; "they'll hear you!"

"Who?" whispered Tom, alarmed.

The mother kept perfectly still, listening intently, until satisfied
that the danger was really past; then she related to her son what she
had seen, and what her fears had been.

"But, mother," said Tom, confidently, "there are no signs of trouble
from them. They wouldn't dare to attack the settlers; for they have
always been beaten by the white man. Besides, there are not many near
us. You see that these have not harmed us; they only stole an ox. Why,
mother, don't you know that there has been no Indian war for a good
many years, and that the Indians have been growing weaker and weaker
all the time, and going farther and farther off?"

This was plausible; and Tom only expressed the views of the settlers.
Mrs. Jones knew that there was no reason for her anxiety, except her
fears, and she had not ventured to express them to any one before;
for she was aware, such was the prevalent feeling on this subject,
that it would expose her to ridicule. But now she only shook her head,
and said,--

"I wish your father was safe at home."

"Why, mother, you don't worry about him--do you?" exclaimed Tom, in
amazement. "The Indians always liked him, and he can go anywhere over
the prairies and through the woods without guide or compass, and not
get lost. And he's a great marksman, you know: it wouldn't do for an
Indian to get in the way of his rifle."

"But, Tom," said the mother, taking his hand, and suddenly changing
the subject, "why is it that you don't get better faster? Your skin is
real hot, and you look feverish. The doctor said you ought to have
been out before this." Tom looked down, but did not reply. "Tom,"
continued she, tenderly, "something is troubling your mind. I have
known it for some time. Don't you love your mother well enough to make
her your confidant? What is the matter, my son?"

Still the lad did not reply; but his heart was deeply moved by this
unexpected and loving attack upon the citadel that held his secret
secure, as he had supposed. Soon the tears began to stream from his
eyes, and he sobbed aloud.

Mrs. Jones's eyes closed, and her lips moved as if she were in
prayer; upon which Tom, after she had ceased, asked, softly,--

"Mother, are you a Christian?"

"That is a serious question, my son," said she. "I sometimes hope that
I am one; b