men
discussed the Indians there was no need for her to worry, so she took out
Seth's cup and retired to her kitchen.

In the meantime Seth had reached the river. Here he again dismounted, but
this time for no more significant reason than to wash out the rag he had
rescued from the bush south of the Reservations. He washed and rewashed
the cotton, till it began to regain something of its original color. Then
he examined it carefully round the hem.

It was a small, woman's handkerchief, and, in one corner, a name was
neatly written in marking ink. The name was "Raynor."

CHAPTER IX

THE ADVENTURES OF RED RIDING HOOD

It is Sunday. The plaintive tinkle of the schoolroom bell at the Mission
has rung the Christianized Indians to the short service which is held
there.

"Indian Mission." The name conveys a sense of peace. Yet the mission
histories of the Indian Reservations would make bloody reading. From the
first the Christian teacher has been the pitiable prey of the warlike
savage. He bears the brunt of every rising. It is only in recent years
that his work has attained the smallest semblance of safety. The soldier
fights an open foe. The man in charge of an Indian mission does not fight
at all. He stands ever in the slaughter-yard, living only at the pleasure
of the reigning chief. He is a brave man.

The service is over. It is perforce brief. The grown men and women come
out of the building. The spacious interior is cleared of all but the
children and a few grown-up folk who remain to hold a sort of
Sunday-school.

There are Wanaha and Seth. Rosebud, too, helps, and Charlie Rankin and his
young wife, who have a farm some two miles east of White River Farm. Then
there is the missionary, Mr. Hargreaves, a large man with gray hair and
rugged, bearded face, whose blue eyes look straight at those he is
addressing with a mild, invincible bravery. And the Agent, James Parker, a
short, abrupt man, with a bulldog chest and neck, and a sharp, alert
manner.

These are the workers in this most important branch of the civilizing
process. They are striking at the root of their object. The children can
be molded where the parents prove impossible. Once these black-eyed little
ones have mastered the English language the rest is not so difficult. They
have to be weaned from their own tongue if their Christian teachers would
make headway. A small, harmless bribery works wonders in this direction.
And all these children