started.

"Waubeno, you have come from Black Hawk. He slays men, and we know him.
An Indian killed my father."

"An Indian killed your father--and what did you do?"

"My brother Mordecai avenged his death, and caused many Indians to bite
the dust."

"White brother," said Waubeno, "a white man killed my father. What ought
_I_ to do?"

The men held their pipes in silence.

"My father was an innocent man," said the pioneer.

"My father was an honorable warrior," said Waubeno, "and defended his
own rights--rights as dear to him as your father's, or yours, or mine.
What ought _I_ to do?" He turned to young Lincoln. "What would _you_
do?"

"I hold that in all things right is might, and I defend the right of an
Indian as I would the rights of a white man, but I never would shed any
man's blood for avarice or malice. Waubeno, I would defend you in a
cause of right against the world. I would rather have the approval of
Heaven than the praise of all mankind."

"Brother," said Waubeno, "I believe that you speak true, but I do not
know. If I only knew that you spoke true, I would not do as Mordecai
did. I would forgive the white man."

The candles smoked, and the men talked long into the night. At last
Thomas Lincoln and Jasper and Waubeno went home, where Mrs. Lincoln was
awaiting them. They expected Abraham to follow them. They sat up that
night late, and talked about the prairie country, and the prospects of
the emigrants to Illinois.

"Now you had better go to rest," said Sarah Lincoln. "I will sit up
until Abe comes. I do not see why he is so late to-night, when the
Tunker is here, too, and the Indian boy."

"He's with the Grigsbys, I guess," said Mr. Lincoln.

The two men went to their beds, and Waubeno laid down on a mat on the
floor. Hour after hour passed, and Mrs. Lincoln went again and again to
the door and listened, but Abraham did not return. It was midnight when
she laid down, but even then it was to listen, and not to sleep.

In the morning Abraham returned. His eyes were sunken and his cheeks
were white.

"Get me some coffee, mother," he said. "I have not slept a wink
to-night."

"Why, where have you been, Abraham?"

"Watchin'--watchin' with a frozen drunken man. I found him on the road,
and carried him to Dennis's on my back. He seemed to be dead, but I
rubbed him all night long, and he breathed again."

"Why did you not get some one to help you?"

"The boys all left me. They said that ol