"But Starcus can read as well as anybody."
"He has been to school and learned, and then he is a good Indian, too, and I wouldn't care if he did read it."
"But maybe he will become bad like the other Indians," persisted the child.
The husband looked significantly at his wife, who was also watching his actions and listening to the conversation. She replied with a motion of the head, which said there might be something in the words of the little one.
Starcus was a young Indian that had been attending the Carlisle school for a couple of years, and had acquired a fair English education, being able to read, write, and talk intelligently. He had called at the house several times, and interested the family by his pleasing ways and kind words.
He remarked on his last visit, some weeks before, that he was likely to remain some time with his people, and possibly would not return again to the East. Many things were more unlikely than that he would be carried away by the craze that was affecting his tribe, and become one of the most ferocious foes of the Caucasian race.
"Tim," said Mr. Starr, turning to the Irishman, "did you notice whether he was among the group you saw?"
"I didn't observe him, but they were fixed out in war-paint and toggery so that I wouldn't have knowed the gintleman onless I was inthrodooced to the same. Thin, too, he might have been one of the spalpeens who were stampeding the cattle."
"Well, there's no use in thinking of that; we must take the chances; the Sioux will find out what course we follow without asking anyone to translate this message for them."
Mrs. Starr caught the arm of her husband, and as he turned he noticed that her face was pale with emotion.