"Oh, how is he?" asked Lydia eagerly, "and what is he doing?"
"He's pretty seedy," answered Kent. "He's been trying to keep the whites off the reservation by organizing the full bloods to stand against the half-breeds. But after a year of trying he's given up hope. The full bloods are fatalists, you know, and Charlie has gone back to it himself."
"Charlie Jackson is an old schoolmate of ours." Lydia turned to Willis and gave him a rapid sketch of Charlie's life. The Harvard man was deeply interested.
"Can't you get him back to his work with the doctor?" he asked Kent.
Kent shook his head. "The only way to keep an Indian from reverting is to put him where he never can see his people or the reservation. Charlie's given up. He's drinking a little."
"And still you folks will keep on, stealing the reservation!" exclaimed
Billy.
Kent gave Billy a grin, half irritated, half whimsical. "I know it's Sunday, old man, but don't let's have a sermon. You're a farmer, Bill, anyhow, no matter what else you try to be."
"Thank God for that," laughed Billy.
"My word!" ejaculated Willis. "What a country! You spout the classics on week days and on holidays you steal from the aborigines!"
"Oh, here, draw it mild, Professor!" growled Kent.