.
They were lessons calling for chastisement and you didn't need
chastising.

I've taken God's punishment dear, and thanked Him for it. And I believe
I'm fit company for you now.

I am coming next Monday to Custer, four miles from where you are, and on
Tuesday morning, starting at eight, I shall walk toward your bungalow by
way of the path by the river. I am familiar with every inch of the road,
as you know I wrote "Treasure-trove" at the Wilson ranch near your
canon.

Will you and your little son meet me if only a few yards from your home
so that you may judge for yourself if I am fit company for you now.

If you do not meet me--then the will of Allah be done, for I shall turn
back.

DONALD.

October 10.

Your message came too late, dear; already at eight o'clock Tokacon, with
my son in his arms, and I were far along on the river path that leads
out to the world. Our progress was slow with only the croonings and
gurglings of my beautiful child to interrupt the silences of nature, as
he clung affectionately to the neck of our red man protector, whose
solemnity, though he knew not my mission was superb.

Half way, where Tokacon has built an exquisite rustic bower, we stopped
and waited while the Indian returned to the bungalow.

What a strange hour I spent waiting with my baby, who had fallen asleep
in my arms. Thousands of rebellious thoughts burned themselves upon the
retina of my brain, as I sat planning and wondering. I want to be just
before I'm generous, or I'm afraid I'll never have the chance to be
generous. I sat staring like one at strife with a memory--and then he
came, slowly, resignedly. His hair is quite white and there are strange,
deep lines on his forehead, and marked parentheses round his mouth which
can be but the foot-prints of pain and thought. He could not see us in
our secluded shelter and I could not make my mouth utter his name--he
who had wrung my heart as a peasant twists an osier withe.

On he walked with his head hung low and a lost look in his eyes--then I
called "Don," as I used to do when I loved him, and he stopped suddenly
and listened with his hand to his ear. Again I called "Don." He turned
and saw us. Slowly and with the dignity that he cannot lose, he came
back to where we sat. He could not speak, but knelt beside us and kissed
the baby's lips; my infant opened his innocent eyes and put his arms
around