u beat the Dutch!"

The young horsewoman rode up to the front door of her house, and
paused to let her old friends admire her to their satisfaction. But
their admiration aroused neither surprise nor vanity in her simple,
straightforward mind. Years before, the old clergyman had said to her,
upon their first meeting, that the Lord had been very good to her in
giving her a beauty so remarkable and impressive; and under his wise
instruction she had accepted the fact as she did all the others of her
life. Only she had striven to keep her soul always worthy of the
glorious form in which it was housed and to use all her gifts and
graces for good. So she stood a while, letting the honest couple
inspect and comment, and finally answering Abel's curiosity, in honest
modesty.

"Why am I so dressed up? Because I have a mission to perform, and I
need to make myself as beautiful as possible."

"Kit--ty Bris--coe! I've read in my red Bible that 'favor is deceitful
and beauty is vain.' I'm amazed at you. Livin' with a minister, too.
Well, _he_ can't preach to _me_. I'd despise to set under him."

Abel's eyes twinkled, but the gravity of the Sun Maid's face did not
lessen. She explained gently, yet with unshaken decision, that her
self-adornment was right, and gave her reasons.

"You will remember, dears, that I am a 'Daughter of the
Pottawatomies.' They believe that I have supernatural gifts, and that
I am a spirit living in a human form."

"And you let 'em, Kit, you let 'em?"

"I couldn't prevent it if I tried. And I do not try. That idea of
theirs is far too powerful a factor for good. Even Wahneenah, who
knows better and is to me as a real mother, even she treats me a
little more deferentially when I attire myself like this."

"Put on your war paint, eh?"

"No, indeed: my peace paint," laughed the girl. "The messenger you saw
talking with Wahneenah and me is from an encampment a dozen miles or
so to the westward. There are about five hundred Indians in the camp,
and they are getting restless. They are always restless, it seems to
me," and she sighed profoundly. "It is such a problem, isn't it? They
think they have right on their side, and the whites think _they_ have;
and there is so much that is good, so much that is evil, on both.
Well, the red people are planning treachery. The brave you saw is a
real friend to the pale-faces, and one of my closest confidants. He
came to warn me. His tribe, or the mixed tribes in the