t budge. His palms were still pressed tight. He
blinked at the wagon-bed.

"Charles," said the evangelist, earnestly, "you and I love the little
family over yonder. They have been good and kind. I want you to watch
over them while I am gone, and be faithful to them. The father is
crippled and weak, and he has no friends. Charles, you must be a friend
to him, and to the girls. No matter what happens, do not fail them.
There will be another guarding. Guard with him. Something may call him
away; someone may kill him. Take his place. If danger comes, tell of it
at the Fort. Do you promise, Charles? do you promise?" He leaned
forward, entreating.

The outcast moved from side to side uneasily.

"Promise, promise," said David Bond. "You must give up anything for
them, even your life. Remember that--even your life. I have told you
often, and you have not forgot: 'Greater love hath no man than this,
that a man lay down his life for his friends.'"

Again the Indian moved uneasily.

"'For his friends,'" repeated the evangelist. "Ah! they have been your
friends!" He put his fingers beneath The Squaw's chin and lifted it. The
two looked long into each other's eyes. Then they arose and parted.

Later, when the last buckle of Shadrach's harness was fixed, David Bond
climbed to the seat and took up the reins. A score of troopers about the
head of the white horse stepped aside and formed a little lane. Here and
there, a man reached up. Here and there, too, were awkward attempts at
wit. "Hope y' 've made yer will, parson," called one. "Look out them
locks o' yourn don't go t' trick out some big buck," admonished a
second. "Good-by," cried a third, saluting with great formality; "tell
ol' St. Peter he'll git a bunch of us some time this summer."

To all, the evangelist returned his blessing.

The interpreter shoved forward through the growing crowd and made a show
of friendliness. "Gran'pa," he said, "you're pritty game, all right.
Most old war-hosses like you'd be stayin' home and enjoyin' their
pension."

David Bond threw up his head resentfully. "Pension," he said, and shot a
searching look into Matthews' face. "I am not a man who sells his
principles for money. What I give to my country, I give free."

The crowd cheered him, swinging their caps.

Then there was a hush. A shrunken figure was hurrying up, stretching out
thin hands to detain him. No one scoffed now. But one stout trooper put
an arm about Jamieson to steady h