t can be expected of him."

"It seems to me that saving the Indian from extermination, as all this
work is helping to do, is among the greatest things in the world," said
Helen. "The sad thing to me is that these people seem so remote from all
help. The world forgets so easily what it can't see."

"Yes, there are no newspapers out here to get up Christmas charity
drives, and there are few volunteer settlement workers to be called on
for help at any time. And there are no charity balls for the Indian. It
isn't that he wants charity so much as understanding."

"Understanding often comes quickest through charity," interposed Helen.
"It seems to me that no one could ask a better life-work than to help
these people."

"There's more to them than the world has been willing to concede,"
declared Lowell. "I never have subscribed to Parkman's theory that the
Indian's mind moves in a beaten track and that his soul is dormant. The
more I work among them the more respect I have for their capabilities."

Further talk of Indian affairs consumed the remainder of the trip.
Lowell was an enthusiast in his work, though he seldom talked of it,
preferring to let results speak for themselves. But he had found a ready
and sympathetic listener. Furthermore, he wished to take the girl's mind
from the matters that evidently were proving such a weight. He succeeded
so well that not until they reached the ranch did her troubled
expression return.

"Tell me," said Lowell, as he helped her from the automobile, "is he--is
Morgan better, and is he treating you all right?"

"Yes, to both questions," said she. Then, after a moment's hesitation,
she added: "Come in. Perhaps it will be possible for you to see him."

Lowell stepped into the room that served as Morgan's study. One wall was
lined with books, Greek predominating. Helen knocked at the door of the
adjoining room, and there came the clear, sharp, cynical voice that had
aroused all the antagonism in Lowell's nature on his first visit.

"Come in, come in!" called the voice, as cold as ice crystals.

Helen entered, and closed the door. The voice could be heard, in
different modulations, but always with profound cynicism as its basis.

Lowell, with a gesture of rage, stepped to the library table. He picked
up a volume of Shakespeare's tragedies, and noticed that all references
to killing and to bloodshed in general had been blotted out. Passage
after passage was blackened with heavy lines