a pine tree on a poster,
typical of strength, a banner with a sunburst, the sun shedding warmth
upon the earth.

And then--then! To the little squat figure of a woman, as the Indians
depicted her, with a torch in her hand, Wisdom's torch--her own emblem
as Wantaam of the Council Fire.

But there was another representation of that Wantaam--that Wise Woman.
Pem had designed it herself, painted it herself upon a two-foot poster,
gaining thereby a green honor-bead for handicraft.

And before that the girl, wrestling with the heavy disappointment of
that tantalizing will, brought up--her hands clasped.

It was a curious scene: a lot of little tents with a wall around them,
the same symbolic figure of the woman with the torch stood upon the
wall, pointing a stiff arm at a man outside, a warrior, who had a knife
in hand.

Underneath were printed in flaming characters two Indian words: "Notick!
Notick!" signifying: "Hear! Hear!"

"I always did feel fascinated by that Wise Woman who saved--a--city."
Pem looked adoringly at her handiwork. "A besieged Jewish city, away
back in King David's time! To be sure, one reads of it in--in what's a
bloodthirsty chapter of the Old Testament! And she saved the town by
ordering the death of a rebel, a traitor, proclaiming that she, herself,
was loyal and faithful to the king--so were her people--making Joab,
David's captain, that man with the knife, outside the wall, listen when
she cried to him: 'Hear! Hear!' She had more sense than the men about
her--and one isn't told the least thing further about her, not even her
name. That's what makes her mysterious--and fascinating.... Yet she
saved a city!"

The girl drew a long breath--a suddenly fired breath.

Was it up to her now to save a city: the citadel of her father's
courage--of that rose-colored conviction which is half the battle on
earth or in the air? How was she to do it?

Her eye went wandering around the room. Trained to the eloquence of
symbols, it lit on something. Just a sheen of pearls and a little loom
upon a table--myriads of pearly beads, woven and unwoven, with here and
there a ray of New Jerusalem colors, ruby, emerald, blazing through
them--the New Jerusalem of hope.

"Ah-h!"

Breathlessly she caught it up, that something, four feet and a half of
the beaded history of a girl,--pearl-woven prophecy, too!

Hugging it to her breast, that long leather strip, an inch and a half in
width, on which her glowing young