er showed a light. The bar-rooms were open full
blast, and as Pete glided down the sawdust street it needed all the
remembrance of Bill's fist to keep him from parting with a portion of
the jingling money for an equal amount of good cheer. But the fist had
the best of it, and he went straight on to the last bar-room. Surely
Bill was right. Nothing but a miracle could stop him.

But the miracle was performed, and when Pete least expected it.

Pete knew better than to go into the front door of the bar-room. He knew
how well he and all his race are protected by the government. It had
been decided that no one should be allowed to sell liquor to an
"Injun"--at least at the regular bar. If an "Injun," however, could so
far lose sight of his personal dignity as to come sneaking in at the
back door, and pay an extra price for his liquor, whose business was it?

Pete knew the way of bar-tenders. He had been in the business before. He
did not go in at the front door where the higher-bred white men were
made welcome, but slunk down an alley by the side of the building,
meaning to go in the back way.

There was no light in the store next the bar-room. It was a milliner's
store and had been closed for some hours. But in the back room two women
were working away anxious to finish a hat, evidently intended for some
village belle's Christmas. Pete stopped in the dark alley for a moment
to watch them.

A man sat asleep in a chair by the stove, but the women worked on with
tireless fingers. The hat was growing more and more brilliant under
their quick touches. By their side stood a basket of artificial flowers
and bright ribbons. It seemed to Pete that he had never before seen
anything so beautiful. Here were flowers--why could he not get some for
the little sick girl?

It was a severe struggle for the poor "Injun," out there in the dark
alley. The thought of the thrashing he would receive on the one hand,
and the sad eyes of Marie on the other. What could he do? But even an
"Injun" can remember a kindness. It may have been a miracle, or it may
have been just the out-cropping of the desire to repay a kindness which
even an "Injun" is said to possess. At any rate the eyes conquered and
Pete braved the fist of Bill. For fear that he should lose courage, he
pushed against the door of the room, and entered without ceremony.

There was a great commotion, I can assure you. The idea of an "Injun"
pushing his way into the back parlor of a