times of civil war change
conditions for our children," he mused to himself, rather than spoke to
me. "We expect a call to the front soon, Phil. When I am gone, I want
you to do a man's part in Springvale. You are only a boy, I know, but
you have a man's strength, my son."

"And a man's spirit, too," I cried, springing up and standing erect
before him. "Let me go with you, Father."

"No, Phil, you must stay here and help to protect these homes, just as
we men must go out to fight for them. To the American people war doesn't
mean glory nor conquest. It means safety and freedom, and these begin
and end in the homes of our land."

The impulse wakened on the prairie that evening at the sight of Marjie's
peril leaped up again within me.

"I'll do my best. But tell me, Father," I had dropped down beside him
again, "do you still love my mother? Does a man love the same woman
always?"

Few boys of my age would have asked such a question of a man. My father
took both of my hands into his own strong hands and in the dim light he
searched my face with his keen eyes.

"Men differ in their natures, my boy. Even fathers and sons do not
always think alike. I can speak only for myself. Do I love the woman who
gave you birth? Oh, Phil!"

No need for him to say more. Over his face there swept an expression of
tenderness such as I have never seen save as at long intervals I have
caught it on the face of a sweet-browed mother bending above a sleeping
babe. I rose up before him, and stooping, I kissed his forehead. It was
a sacred hour, and I went out from his presence with a new bond binding
us together who had been companions all my days. My dreams when I fell
asleep at last were all of Marjie, and through them all her need for a
protector was mingled with a still greater need for my guardianship. It
came from two women who were strangers to me, whose faces I had never
seen before.

CHAPTER V

A GOOD INDIAN

Underneath that face like summer's ocean,
Its lips as moveless, and its brow as clear,
Slumbers a whirlwind of the heart's emotion,
Love, hatred, pride, hope, sorrow,--all save fear.

Cast in the setting of to-day, after such an attempt on human life as we
broke up on the prairie, Jean Pahusca would have been hiding in the
coverts of Oklahoma, or doing time at the Lansing penitentiary for
attempted assault with intent to kill. The man who sold him the whiskey
would be in the clutches of the law, carryi