the agent, and the agency police were
sullen over recent happenings. Sandy was notified by a call from the
post adjutant about 11:30, just as he was softly locking up for the
night. He listened in silence, made no comment, asked no questions,
completed his few preparations, bade Priscilla keep it all from his
mother until after he was gone, for rest and sleep were most essential,
and at dawn, with dark-rimmed eyes and solemn face, he stole to the
half-open doorway, beyond which the night lamp dimly glowed; listened;
entered one moment and softly kissed the dear hand that lay so wearily
upon the coverlet; looked fondly at the gentle, careworn face, and then,
with firm, set lips, turned stealthily away. Priscilla was up and had
hot coffee ready for him below stairs, and possibly admonition, but this
she spared him. Oh, if Priscilla had but known what Aunt Marion had seen
at the rear gate two nights before, what might she not have said to
both! for Priscilla, too, had had her vigil, had both seen and heard and
knew more than Aunt Marion even thought she knew.

"It is barely ten miles," said Sandy. "Couriers will be riding to and
fro. Then there's the telephone by way of town, unless the wires are
cut. Let me hear of mother night and morning, Pris. Now, I've got to
go."

She stood at the window of his room an hour later, watching the little
command as it wound away among the dips and waves of the southward
prairie, until finally lost to sight. This was a new phase to the
situation. Priscilla had never pictured the modern redman save as she
had heard him described at church sociables, peace society meetings and
the occasional addresses of inspired "Friends of the Indian," who came
soliciting the sympathies--and subscriptions--of the congregation. The
few specimens that had met her gaze about town, the station and the
fords were, she felt sure, and justly sure, but frowsy representatives
of a magnificent race. It was only when the agent, himself a godly man,
had come and told his recent troubles, after evening service, that
Priscilla began to realize how, despite his innate nobility of character
and exalted ideals and eloquence, the average ward of the nation was not
built on the lofty plane of Logan, Osceola and Chief Joseph. He was
quite capable of extravagant demands of his own and of raising the devil
when he didn't get what he wanted.

There were other eyes, and anxious eyes, along the bluffs and the
southward windows