kicked a
fallen brand back to the live coals. I know old saws are poor comfort to
people in distress, being chiefly applicable when they are not needed.

"What in the world can be keeping Father Holland?" I asked, leading off
on another tack. "Here we are almost into the summer, and never a sight
of him."

"Did you really expect him back alive from the Bloods?" sneered
Hamilton. He had unconsciously acquired a habit of expecting the worst.

"Certainly," I returned. "He's been among them before."

"Then all I have to say is, you're a fool!"

Poor Eric! He had informed me I was a fool so often in his ravings I had
grown quite used to the insult. He glared savagely at the fire, and if I
had not understood this bitterness towards the missionary, the next
remark was of a nature to enlighten me.

"I don't see why any man in his senses wants to save the soul of an
Indian," he broke out. "Let them go where they belong! Souls! They
haven't any souls, or if they have, it's the soul of a fiend----"

"By the bye, Eric," I interrupted, for this petulant ill-humor, that saw
naught but evil in everything, was becoming too frequent and always
ended in the same way--a night of semi-delirium, "by the bye, did you
see those fellows turning up soil for corn with a buffalo shoulder-blade
as a hoe?"

"I wish every damn Red a thousand feet under the soil, deeper than that,
if the temperature increases."

It was impossible to talk to Hamilton without provoking a quarrel.
Leaning back with hands clasped behind my head, I watched through
half-closed eyes his sad face darkling under stormy moods.

At last the rain succeeded in soaking through the parchment across the
window and the wind drove through a great split in chilling gusts that
added to the cabin's discomfort. I got up and jammed an old hat into the
hole. At the window I heard the shouting of Indians having a hilarious
night among the lodges and was amazed at the sound of discharging
firearms above the huzzas, for ammunition was scarce among the Mandanes.
The hubbub seemed to be coming towards our hut. I could see nothing
through the window slit, and lighting a pine fagot, shot back the
latch-bolt and threw open the door. A multitude of tawny, joyous,
upturned faces thronged to the steps. The crowd was surging about some
newcomer, and Chief Black Cat was prancing around in an ecstasy of
delight, firing away all his gunpowder in joyous demonstration. I lifted
my torch. The In