louds again. They blushed scarlet, and the fields were red.

The grim face gave no sign that he saw the glory and beauty of a
wonderful Sabbath morning. His figure was rigid. His eyes set. A sweet
odor seemed to come from the scarlet rays of the sun. The man lifted his
head in surprise to find the direction from which the perfume came.

He looked at the ground and saw that he was standing in a bed of
ripening wild strawberries.

He turned from the sunrise, stooped and ate the fruit. He was ravenously
hungry. His hunger satisfied, he walked deliberately back to camp as the
white light of day flooded the clean fields and woods.

He called his men about the fire and searched for marks of the night's
work. As the full rim of the sun crept over the eastern hills and its
first rays quivered on the surface of the water, the huntsmen knelt by
the bank of the Pottawattomie and washed the stains from their swords,
hands and clothes.

Breakfast finished, the leader divided among his headsmen the goods
stolen from his victims and called his men to Sunday prayers.

With folded hands and head erect in the attitude of victory he read from
memory a passage from the old Hebrew prophet, singing in triumph over
the enemies of the Lord. From the scripture recitation, given in tones
so cold and impersonal that they made Townsley shiver, his voice drifted
into prayer:

"We thank thee, oh, Lord, God of Hosts, for the glorious victory Thou
hast given us this night over Thy enemies. We have heard Thy voice. We
have obeyed Thy commands. The wicked have been laid low. And Thy glory
shines throughout the world on this beautiful Sabbath morning. Make
strong, oh, God, the arms of Thy children for the work that is yet
before them. Thou art a jealous God. Thou dost rejoice always in blood
offerings on Thy altars. We have this night brought to Thee and laid
before Thy face the five offerings which the sins of man have demanded.
May this blood seem good in Thy sight, oh, God, as it is glorious in the
eyes of Thy servant whom Thou hast anointed to do Thy will. May it be as
seed sown in good ground. May it bring forth a harvest whose red glory
shall cover the earth, even as the rays of the sun have baptized our
skies this morning. We wait the coming of Thy Kingdom, oh, Lord, God of
Hosts. Speed the day we humbly pray. Amen."

Townsley's eyes had gradually opened at the tones of weird, religious
ecstasy with which the last sentences of the prayer w