gladly given him at every cabin; for
wherever he sought shelter, that place was safe from any Indian attack.

While Mrs. Moulton hurried her child to the fort and hushed its weeping
with pot-pie the young men raised a yelping chorus and came dancing into
the clearing with all the prancing steps of the red men. Deep-voiced oaths
and thunderous welcomes were showered upon Baby Kirst as he proudly rode
among them, his huge face further distended by a broad grin.

Awkwardly dismounting from his rawbone horse, he stared around the circle
and with one hand held behind him tantalizingly said:

"Got something. Sha'n't let you peek at it."

"Let's see it, Baby," coaxed Runner, his tone such as he might use in
pleading with a child.

"No!" And Baby shook his head stubbornly and grinned mischievously.

"'Lasses on mush. Heaps of it, Baby," bribed Davis.

Baby became interested. Davis repeated his offer. Slowly Baby drew from
behind him the scalp of a white man. It was long, dark brown hair, burned
to a yellowish white at the ends by the sun.

"That's Ben Kirby's hair!" gasped Scott, staring in horror at the exhibit.
Then aside, "Good God, he ain't took to killing whites, has he?"

"Where'd you git it, Baby?" coaxed Hacker. "Davis will give you a big bowl
of mush and 'lasses."

"That man had it," proudly informed Baby, and he fished from the bosom of
his hunting-shirt a hank of coarse black hair.

"A Shawnee sculp or I'm a flying-squirrel!" yelled Runner. "Don't you
understand it, men? Some dog of a Shawnee rubbed out Kirby. His hair's
been off his head these six weeks. No wonder he ain't come in to help you
folks to fort.

"Baby meets this Shawnee and gives him his needings. The red devil's sculp
ain't more'n three days old. Good for you, Baby! Good boy! Give him all
the 'lasses he can hold. Needn't worry about any raid s'long as he stays
here, Davis. You can just take your time in finishing that fort."

"If we could only keep him!" sighed Davis.

"But you can't," spoke up a young man. "Every one has tried. A day or two,
yes. Then he must go back to the woods. When the Injuns failed to finish
him off they did a bad job for themselves."

"We'll keep him long's we can," said Davis. "Hi, mother! Fill the
mixing-bowl with mush and cover it with sweeting."

As proud as a boy being praised by his elders, Baby started to strut to
the Davis cabin, but quickly fell into a limping walk and whimpered a
bit.

"Crippled on