."

"Reckon he zigzagged back to town to get somethin' he forgot at Conlow's
shop," put in Cam. "Didn't find any dead dogs nor children next
mornin', did ye, O'mie?"

Conlow kept the vilest whiskey ever sold to a poor drink-thirsty
Redskin. Everybody knew it except those whom the grand jury called into
counsel. I saw my father's brow darken.

"Conlow will meet his match one of these days," he muttered.

"That's why we are runnin' you for judge," said Cam. "This cussed
country needs you in every office it's got to clean out that gang that
robs an' cheats the Injuns, an' then makes 'em ravin' crazy with
drinkin'. They's more 'n Conlow to blame, though, Judge. Keep one eye on
the Government agents and Indian traders."

"I wonder where Jean did go anyhow," O'mie whispered to me. "Let's foind
out an' give him a surprise party an' a church donation some night."

"What does he come here so much for, anyhow?" I questioned.

"I don't know," replied O'mie. "Why can't he stay Injun? What'll he do
wid the greatest common divisor an' the indicative mood an' the Sea of
Azov, an' the Zambezi River, when he's learned 'em, anyhow? Phil,
begorra, I b'lave that cussed Redskin is in this town fur trouble, an'
you jist remember he'll git it one av these toimes. He ain't natural
Injun. Uncle Cam is right. He's not like them Osages that comes here
annuity days. All that's Osage about him is his clothes."

While we were talking, Jean Pahusca came silently into the company and
sat down under the oak tree shading the walk. He never looked less like
an Indian than he did that summer morning lounging lazily in the shade.
The impenetrable savage face had now an expression of ease and superior
self-possession, making it handsome. Unlike the others of his race who
came and went about Springvale, Jean's trappings were always bright and
fresh, and his every muscle had the poetry of motion. In all our games
he was an easy victor. He never clambered about the cliff as we did, he
simply slid up and down like a lizard. Jim Conlow was built to race, but
Jean skimmed the ground like a bird. He could outwrestle every boy
except O'mie (nobody had ever held that Irishman if he wanted to get
away), and his grip was like steel. We all fought him by turns and he
defeated everyone until my turn came. From me he would take no chance of
defeat, however much the boys taunted him with being afraid of Phil
Baronet. For while he had a quickness that I lacked, I k