the law, but not to vengeance."

Cut Finger thereafter spoke no word, did not even look back, though
Curtis detected him turning his head whenever the sound of the galloping
horse grew faint or died away for a few moments. The baby ceased to
wail, and on the rough ground, when the wagon jarred, the father held
the little one high as in a sling.

Upon entering the camp of Crawling Elk they found all the people massed,
waiting, listening, and their presence excited the prisoner greatly, and
he began again to sing his death-chant, which now seemed infinitely more
touching by reason of the small creature he cradled so lovingly in his
arms.

"Be silent!" commanded Curtis. "You must not sing. Drive fast, Two
Horns!"

Answering wails and fragments of chanting broke from the women; one or
two cried out, "Take him from the agent!" But the men shook their heads
and sadly watched them pass. "He has done a foolish thing; he must now
suffer for it," said Crawling Elk.

As they drew up before the door of the parsonage Curtis sprang out and
said to Cut Finger:

"Give me the baby; he shall be well cared for."

The father gave up the child passively, and Curtis called to Jennie:

"Here is a babe that is tired and hungry--be good to it."

"Where is the mother?" asked Jennie, as she tenderly received the little
brown boy.

"She is coming," he said, and the mother galloped up in a few moments
and fairly tumbled off her horse. "See!" Curtis said to her and to the
father, "My sister will give the baby milk, and its mother shall also be
fed. You need not fear; both will be taken care of. We are your
friends."

Cut Finger watched Jennie as she carefully carried the baby into the
house, and as he turned away, a look of apathetic misery, more moving
than any cry, settled on his face.

Maynard, who had been standing in the door, said, in a tone of
astonishment, "Did that wild Injun carry his papoose all the way down?"

"Yes, and was as tender of it as a woman, too."

"Well, I'll be hanged! There's a whole lot for me to learn about Injuns
yet. Want a guard?"

"Yes; I think it safer. There is a good deal of sympathy for this poor
chap."

"I don't blame 'em very much," said Maynard. "Take him right down to our
guard-house, and I'll have Payne detail a squad of men to take care of
him."

"I intend taking him to Pinon myself. I can't find it in my heart to
give him over into the hands of these whites--they'd lynch him, sure."