y enough so you can catch the stage out of
White Lodge."

Much smoking on the way home did not clear up the mystery for Lowell.
Nor did sitting up and weighing the matter long after his usual bedtime
bring him any nearer to answering the questions: Why did Miss Scovill
come here determined to take Helen Ervin back to San Francisco with her?
Why did Miss Scovill change her mind so completely after arriving at
Morgan's ranch? Also why did said Miss Scovill betray such unusual
agitation on passing the scene of the murder on the Dollar Sign road--a
murder that she had been hearing discussed from all angles during the
day?

This last question was intensified the next morning, when, with Helen in
the back seat with Miss Scovill, Lowell drove back to White Lodge. When
they passed the scene of the murder, Lowell took pains to notice that
Miss Scovill betrayed no signs of mental strain. Yet only a few hours
before she had been completely unnerved at passing by this same spot.

The women talked little on the trip to White Lodge. What talk there was
between them was on school matters--mostly reminiscences of Helen's
school-days. Lowell could not help thinking that they feared to talk of
present matters--that something was weighing them down and crushing them
into silence. But they parted calmly enough at White Lodge. After the
stage had gone with Miss Scovill, Helen slipped into the seat beside
Lowell and chatted somewhat as she had done during their first journey
over the road.

As for Lowell, he dismissed for the moment all thoughts of tragedy and
mystery from his mind, and gave himself up to the enjoyment of the ride.
They stopped at the agency, and Helen called on some of the friends she
had made on her first journey through. Lowell showed her about the
grounds, and she took keen interest in all that had been done to improve
the condition of the Indians.

"Of course the main object is to induce the Indian to work," said
Lowell. "The agency is simply an experimental plant to show him the
right methods. It was hard for the white man to leave the comfortable
life of the savage and take up work. The trouble is that we're expecting
the Indian to acquire in a generation the very things it took us ages to
accept. That's why I haven't been in too great a hurry to shut down on
dances and religious ceremonies. The Indian has had to assimilate too
much, as it is. It seems to me that if he makes progress slowly that is
about all tha