e and wherein
were already seated Mercy, with Kitty's children. "If it wasn't for
these babies of yourn, I'd never stir stick nor stump out this
afflicted town."

"Well, dear Abel, the babies _are_, and must be cared for. I know that
you and Mother Mercy will spoil them with kindness; but I hope we'll
soon be all together again. Good-by, good-by."

The Sun Maid's voice did not tremble nor the light in her brave face
grow dim, though her heart was nearer breaking than Abel's; in that
she realized far more keenly than he the peril in which she was
voluntarily placing herself.

"Well, Kitty, lamb, do take care. Take the herb tea constant and keep
your feet dry."

"That will be easy to do, if this heat remains," answered the other
quietly, looking about her as she spoke upon the sun-parched ground
and the hot, brazen sky. "And you must not worry, any of you. Gaspar
says the tepees are as comfortable as the best log cabins, though so
hastily put up. You will have plenty of air and the delicious shade of
the trees; the blessed spring water, too; and if you don't keep well
and be as happy as kittens, I--I'll be ashamed of you. I declare,
Mercy dear, your face is all a-beam with the thought of the old
clearing, and the bleaching ground, and all. So you needn't try to
look grave, for, as soon as we can, Wahneenah and I will follow."

Then she turned to speak to Gaspar, who sat on Tempest close at hand,
his handsome face pale with anxiety and divided interests, but stern
and resolute to do his duty as his young wife had shown it to him. And
what these two had to say to one another is not for others to hear;
for it was a parting unto death, it might be, and the hearts of the
twain were as one flesh.

Also, if Mercy's face was alight with the glow of her home returning,
it was moved by the sight of the two women--Wahneenah and her
daughter--who were taking their lives in their hands for the service
of their fellow-men.

Never had the Indian woman's comeliness shown to such advantage; and
her bearing was of one who neither belittled nor overrated the dignity
of the self-sacrifice she was making. She wore a white cotton gown,
which draped rather than fitted her tall figure, and about her dark
head was bound a white kerchief that seemed a crown. With an impulse
foreign to her, Mercy held out her hand; because in ordinary she
"hated an Indian on sight."

"Well, Wahneeny, I'd like to shake hands for good-by. There hain't
nev