only a few feet distant, did not know till next morning that anything of
the kind had been. Sometimes these wretches would beg, and even steal,
on their way back from the dreadful Reservation. They were frightful,
terrible, at such times. They sometimes stood far off outside the gate,
and begged with outstretched hands. Their appearances were so against
them, hungry, dying; and then this traditional hatred of four hundred
years.

But this is too much digression. John Logan knew all the wrongs of his
people only too well. He sympathized with them. And this meant his own
ruin. A few Indians had made their way back of late, and John Logan had
harbored them while the authorities were in pursuit. This was enough. An
order had been sent to bring in John Logan.

He knew of this, and that was why he now stood all alert and on fire,
as these two men came stealing through the bush and straight for him.
Should he fire? To shoot, to shoot at, to even point a gun at a white
man, is death to the Indian. A slave of the South had been ten-fold more
safe in striking his master in the old days of slavery, than is an
Indian on the border in defending his person against a white man.

The two children, like frightened pheasants, when the old one gives
signs of danger, darted down behind him, quick as thought, still as
death. Their desperate and destitute existence in that savage land had
made them savages in their cunning and caution. They said no word, made
no sign. Their eyes were fixed on his every step and motion. He signaled
them back. They darted like squirrels behind trees, and up and on
through the thicket, toward the steep and inaccessible bluffs above. The
two men saw the retreating children. They wanted Carrie. They darted
forward; one of them jerked out and held up a paper in the face of John
Logan.

"We want you at the Reservation. Come!"

Phin Emens stood full before Logan. He shook the paper in his face. The
man did not move. Carrie was fast climbing up the mountain. She was
about to escape. Gar Dosson was furious. He attempted to pass, to climb
the mountain, and to get at the girl. Still Logan kept himself between
as he slowly retreated.

"Stand aside, and let me get that girl. I must take _her_, too!" shouted
Dosson. Still Logan kept the man back. And now the children had escaped.
Wild with rage, Dosson caught Logan by the shoulder and shouted, "Come!"
With a blow that might have felled an ox, the Indian brought the