Marylyn raised to her father a quick, warning finger. "It's in the
Bible, pa," she whispered.

"Heh?"

"It's in the Bible."

"Don' y' think Ah know?" Evan poked the fire cheerfully. He was fairly
started in a conversation. "Thet Shadrach was a prophet, ef Ah recall it
jes' right," he said tentatively.

The evangelist shot him a sorrowful glance.

"No, pa," whispered Marylyn again. "He was put in a furnace. Remember
the furnace, pa?"

"With th' lions!" cried the section-boss. "Certainly Ah do."

"Oh, pa, _that_ isn't the story."

Evan stroked his moustache. "Ah'm kinda offen th' trail, honey, ain't
Ah?" he said aside. Then, to cover his mistake and forestall any
embarrassing explanation, he poked the fire again and resolutely began:
"Pahson, how'd y' come t' name you' hoss Shadrach?"

"He had been christened Spooks," began the evangelist as if repeating an
oft-told tale, "because his last owner mistook him, one night, for a
ghost. I could not bear to call the faithful animal by that name, and,
day after day, thought over all the names I had ever heard, striving to
find one suitable. That summer something happened that decided for me.
Spooks and I awoke to find ourselves surrounded by a prairie fire. And
I, having hitched up and then gotten down into the bottom of the wagon,
my good horse was forced to meet the wall of flame alone. He came out
unscorched. I knew at once what his name should be. Henceforth, I called
him Shadrach."

The light of returning knowledge--of blessed total recall--illumined the
face of the listening section-boss. He gave the fire a glad poke that
sent the burning chips to every side, thrust out his chest proudly and
pinned the other with a triumphant eye. "Wal, how 'bout Meshach and
Abednego?" he demanded.

David Bond studied a moment, knitting his brows until their heavy
archings met in a single hoary line. "I take their place," he said at
last, with dignity.

Following supper, which Dallas prepared, all gathered before the cheery
blaze. There, the evangelist, anxious over the welfare of the people
among whom he had preached and taught, promptly began to question Squaw
Charley.

"You have not told me of your capture," he said, "or of the fight that
came before it. Were you taken in the north--in the country of the White
Mother--or in Dakota?"

The Indian nodded.

"Dakota?"

Swiftly, the pariah's whole aspect altered. A moment before, satisfied
as to food, happy and comforta