CHAPTER XXIII
AT SUNSET
It was Dr. Mishell speaking.
"My dear young lady, if Mr. Hastings must go to England, as he says hemust, he should not go alone. He needs care. I have recommended you asa competent nurse." His eyes twinkled.
"Is it _safe_ for him to travel now?" asked Esther.
"If he makes the journey by slow stages."
The physician spoke with some hesitation.
"At any rate he should get out of this intense heat as soon aspossible."
"But the ocean voyage," she suggested.
"Probably do him good."
The physician had already extended his congratulations to them. Beforeleaving, he gripped Kenneth's hand, and said heartily:
"My nurse will be a helpmate to you. She is a woman of sense."
While he still gripped Kenneth's hand, he turned to Esther, andextended his other hand to her. He placed her hand in Kenneth's, andsaid impressively:
"'What _God_ hath joined together, let not man put asunder.' MissBright, you are to marry a true man. Always _trust_ him."
His eyes filled. He turned abruptly and was gone.
Poor Dr. Mishell!
The wilting heat of August was upon them.
At evening, Esther, wearied with packing trunks, joined Kenneth onthe veranda. As she sat there, Wathemah ran to her, and flung a bunchof flowers in her lap.
"Why do you leave me?" he asked.
She put her arm about him, and told him she was going home, a long,long way from there, and that Mr. Hastings was going with her.
"Wathemah go, too?" he asked.
Both laughed.
"No, little chap," she said, drawing him closer to her, "not thistime."
"Wathemah go, too," he said, reproachfully, looking at Kenneth withmarked disapproval.
"Do you love your teacher?" asked Kenneth. He, too, liked the child.
Wathemah nodded.
"Would you like to be her boy, and live with her always?"
Wathemah placed one arm about his teacher's neck, and said softly:
"Wathemah's mother!"
Kenneth laughed again, and declared he was jealous.
Then Esther told the little fellow she would come back to Gila and gethim, and he should then go to live with her always.
"Take me now," he urged.
"No, dear," she said.
With that, he sprang from her, and walked proudly out of the yard, ontoward the canyon, without turning, or looking back.
"A nugget of gold from the Rockies," said Kenneth, looking after him.
"An Arizona cactus," she replied, "lovely, but hard to handle."
Wathemah trudged up the canyon, to his favorite bowlder, where hewent, often, to listen to the waters. There, he threw himself down,and cried himself to sleep. He had slept a half-hour, perhaps, when hewas awakened by voices.
"Why, here's Wathemah," called out Jack Harding.
Another spoke, "He's a queer un. He never will be civilized."
The group of cowboys gathered about the child.
"What's the matter, sonny?" asked his friend, Jack Harding.
Then he told them of his teacher's refusal to take him with her.
"Don't cry, little kid!" said Jack. "Here, boys, let's give him moneyter go home with Miss Bright. I'll jest ask her ter take him alongwith her, an' I'll pay fur his keep. Don't cry, sonny. It's all right.Down in y'r pockets, pards, an' fork out some money fur Wathemah. Wesaved him, an' raised him, yer know."
His own hand went down into his pockets, and into his hat went a rollof bills. He passed his hat, and soon it was full of bills and silverdollars.
That evening, it began to be whispered about that Wathemah was to gowith Miss Bright. But of this rumor she knew nothing.
Two days later, the hands of young men and maidens were busydecorating the Clayton home for the wedding of Esther Bright andKenneth Hastings. Cactus blossoms of exquisite form and color wereused. Not only the interior of the house, but the veranda and yard aswell, were one glorious mass of color.
Jack Harding worked faithfully, stopping now and then to talk withKenneth, who lay on a couch on the veranda.
Carla, too, was busy, putting artistic touches here and there. She,too, came often to the sick man's side.
But Esther was forbidden to work, and when she persisted, Mr. Claytoncaptured her and took her off for a ride. She was to be married atsunset.
While they were out driving, one of John Clayton's cowboys drove upfrom the station, bringing David Bright and an English clergyman, afriend of Kenneth's, with him.
When Esther returned, and found her grandfather, her joy knew nobounds.
"I wish now, Kenneth, that we were to marry ourselves, as Friends do,"she said, "but grandfather can give me away."
The guests who had been bidden, gathered in the yard, just as theglory of the sunset began. There was Bobbie, with the Carmichaels;there were some of the cowboys and cowlasses, miners and ranchers whohad attended the meetings; all the Clayton household; Dr. Mishell andSister Mercy, Miss Gale, and Wathemah were there. Jack Harding kept aclose watch on Wathemah, not knowing just what he might do.
As the sun neared the horizon, the clergyman took his place in theyard, Kenneth stepped forward, and waited. Esther Bright, in a sheerwhite gown, freshly laundered,--a gown she had worn many times as shehad ministered to the sick, came forward on the arm of her stately oldgrandfather, who gave her away. His benign face seemed to hallow thehour.
The colors in the sky seemed to vie with the cactus blossoms. Yellows,and violets, and deep crimson, faint clouds with golden edges, violet,then rose-colored, all melting into the dome of the sky.
The man and the woman were repeating the marriage ritual of theChurch of England, while this miracle of beauty flashed through theheavens.
The plaintive cry of the mourning dove rang out, followed by thecheerful piping of a cardinal.
The human voices went on with the solemnest vows man and woman mayspeak.
The exquisite notes of the cardinal, then of a thrush, accompaniedtheir voices. The beauty of the dying day played over Esther Brightand Kenneth Hastings, as they stood in the glory of their youth, andof their love.
Just as the clergyman pronounced the closing words of the marriageservice, the heavens leaped into a splendor of color; a mocking birdcaught up all the songs that had furnished an obligato to the marriageservice; and, as if to outdo all the other feathered songsters, burstinto a perfect ecstasy of song.
In the midst of the congratulations and feasting, Wathemah kept closeto Esther's side.
The following day, Kenneth, Esther and David Bright were to begintheir long journey eastward. The day dawned. All Gila gathered at thedistant station to bid them God speed.
"Where is Wathemah?" Esther asked.
"I don't know," answered a miner. "I found him cryin' 'cause yerwouldn't take him with yer."
"Poor little chap! But where's Jack?" she questioned.
"There they be," said a ranchman, pointing to Jack and Wathemah,standing apart from the crowd. She stepped toward them.
"I have come to say good-by," she said. "You won't forget, Jack, tofollow the Christ; you won't forget to pray?"
She laid her hand on his arm. He stood battling with himself. Hertender voice, her eyes filled with tears, almost unmanned him.
"Is it not much, do yer think, ter let yer go, as have brought me terknow God, as have learned me ter live right, an' have been like God'sangel ter me? God help me!" The strong man's face worked, and heturned from her. After a moment, he put his hand in his pocket, anddrew forth the Bible she had given him.
"I wisht I'd a knowed about this when I was a lad. My life'd bendiffernt. I thank yer fur all yer've done fur me, and all yer'velearned me. But it seems I can't let yer go. God help me!"
He stood with head bent and hands clinched.
At last, Esther spoke again:
"Good-by, John. You have fought a good fight, and conquered. N
ow, helpthe others with all your might." Ah, how much she had helped him inhis battle!
He grasped her hand and held it. So they stood. Then he said:
"Take the little kid with yer. Give him a chance. I'll send him moneyas long as I live. I ain't got nobody else ter care fur."
She would help the strong man, now, if she could; but how could she?He had this battle to fight alone.
"You wish _me_ to take Wathemah, John?"
"Yes. Give him a chance,--differnt surroundings."
He lifted a bag of money.
"This 'ere holds nearly one hunderd dollars. The boys give it toWathemah ter go home with yer."
"Did they? How generous!"
The child ran to her, fearful he should be left behind. She hesitated.How could she care for her convalescent husband, and this impetuous,high-strung child? She turned to Kenneth and spoke with him.
Jack lifted Wathemah in his arms and kissed him, saying:
"Good-by, little pard. Mind now, no more cussin'."
David Bright, who had overheard the conversation, now stepped forward,and said, "Let the child go with us, Esther, if those who have rearedhim consent."
Both Mr. and Mrs. Keith, who stood near him, signified theirwillingness. The party then entered the Pullman, and a few minuteslater, the train drew out from the station.
Esther and Wathemah went to the rear platform, and watched till a turnin the road hid their friends from their sight. After a time Kennethjoined them.
"Tears, Esther?" he said, lifting her face.
"But not of sorrow," she returned.
He put an arm around each, and they stood looking down upon themajesty of the scene through which they were passing.
One looking back to that moment, would say it had been prophetic ofthe future. The man of power, destined to become a determining factorin the development of the great Southwest; the woman at his side,great of heart and brain and soul; and this little prince of theRockies, with his splendid heritage of courage, destined to be theeducational leader of his race. And it was this woman of vision, who,during the years that were to come, saw clearly the great work herhusband and foster son might do, and nerved them for it by her faithin the work, and their power to do it.
CHAPTER XXIV
AFTERMATH
It was a substantial stone house, built against the mountainside,overlooking a picturesque canyon. A woman sat on the broad veranda.Occasionally, she turned her head, and looked down the mountain road,listening as though expecting some one. Then she walked down the path,and stood watching. A little five-year-old girl joined her, flittingabout like a sprite.
"Will father come soon, mother?" she asked.
"I hope so, Edith. He said he would come to-day." There was a far awaylook in the mother's eyes.
"Why _doesn't_ father come?" the child continued.
"Oh, he has been a long way, and has traveled many days, dear.Something may have happened to detain him."
"What could have happened, mother?" the little one asked.
"Oh, business, or the rails might have spread, or there might havebeen a washout, or a landslide."
The mother again looked down the road. Then she walked slowly back tothe veranda and took up her sewing. The child leaned against her knee.
"Mother, when you were a little girl, did you have any little girls toplay with?"
"No. I had just my dear grandfather."
"Then you know how lonely I am, mother. It's pretty hard to be alittle girl and all alone."
"Do you think you are alone, little daughter, when you have father,and aunt Carla, and mother?"
"But you are big, mother, don't you see? When a little girl hasn't anyother little boys and girls to play with, the world's a prettylonesome place."
The mother sighed.
The child rested her chin in her dainty hands, and looked up throughher long lashes into her mother's eyes.
"I have been thinking, mother."
The child was given to confidences, especially with her mother.
"What did you think, Edith?" The mother smiled encouragingly.
"I thought I'd pray for a brother."
A tear trembled on the mother's cheek.
"A little brother?" The mother looked far away.
"Oh, a _b-i-g_ brother!" said the child, stretching her arms by way ofillustration.
"What would you say, sweetheart, if a big brother should come to-day?"
The little one clapped her hands.
"A really, _truly_, big brother?" she asked, dancing about in glee.
"A really, truly, big brother,--Wathemah. You have never seen him, andhe has never seen you, since you were a baby. But he is coming homesoon, you know."
"Will he play with me?" she asked. "You and Aunt Carla just 'nopolizefather and the big ladies and gentlemen when they come. But_sometimes_ father plays with me, doesn't he, mother?"
"Yes, sometimes. He loves his little daughter."
"I don't know." She shook her head doubtfully.
"I heard father say he loved you bestest of ev'rybody in a world."
She threw up her arms and gave a little jump.
"Oh, I wish I had some one to play with!"
"Let's go watch for father again," said the mother, rising.
This time they were not disappointed. They heard the sound of wheels;then they saw the father. The little daughter ran like the wind downthe road. The father stopped the horses, gave the reins to the driver,and stepped to the ground. In an instant the little sprite was in hisarms, hugging him about the neck, while her ripples of laughter filledthe air. The wife approached, and was folded in the man's embrace.
"Father," said the child, "I am to have a big brother, mother says."
"You are?" Great astonishment.
The parents smiled.
"An', father,"--here she coquetted with him--"you and mother are notto 'nopolize him when he comes. He's going to play with me, isn't he,mother?"
"I think so." A grave smile.
The child was given to saying her father "un'erstood."
"When did you hear from Wathemah, Esther?" the father asked.
"About ten days ago. I'll read you his letter. I shall not besurprised to see him any day, now."
"Wathemah is my big brother, Father. Mother said so. She says he'salways been my big brother, only _I_ didn't re'lize it, you know."
The parents looked amused.
"Yes, Edith, he is your brother, and a dear brother, too," said thefather.
When they were seated on the veranda, and the child was perched onher father's knee, Esther brought Wathemah's last letter, and read italoud to her husband.
"_Dear Mother Esther:_
"This is probably the last letter I shall write you from Harvard forsome time. As soon as Commencement is over, I shall go to Carlisleagain for a brief visit, and then start for Arizona, to Father Kennethand you, my dear Mother Esther, and my little sister and Carla andJack. Now that the time approaches for me to return to you, I canhardly wait.
"I may have expressed my gratitude to you and Father Kenneth indifferent ways before, but I wish to do so again now.
"I am deeply indebted to him for his generosity, and for his fatherlyinterest and counsel. But it is to you, my beloved teacher, I owe mostof all. All that I am or ever may be, I owe entirely to you. You foundme a little savage, you loved me and believed in me, and made itpossible for me to become a useful man. As I have grown older, I haveoften wondered at your patience with me, and your devotion to theinterests of the Indian. You have done great things already for him,and I am confident that you will do much more to bring about a trueappreciation of him, his character and his needs. The Indian intransition is a problem. You know more about that problem than almostanyone else.
"I never told you about my birthday, did I? Do you know the day Icount my years by? My first day, and your first day at the Gilaschool. Then my real birth took place, for I began to be a livingsoul.
"So, in a spiritual sense, you a
re my real mother. I have oftenwondered if the poor creature who bore me is still living, and livingin savagery. All a son's affection I have given to you, my belovedfoster mother. It is now nearly sixteen years since you found me alittle savage. I must have been about six years of age, then; so, onthe next anniversary of your first day in the Gila school, I shall betwenty-two years old. From that day till now, you have been thedearest object in the world to me. I am sure no mother could be moredevotedly loved by her son than you are loved by me. I strive to findwords to express the affection in my heart.
"And Grandfather Bright! How tender and gentle he always was to me,from the time we had our beautiful wedding journey until his death! Hecame to Carlisle to see me as he might have gone to see a beloved son.He always seemed to me like God, when I was a little fellow. And as Igrew older, he became to me the highest ideal of Christian manhood. Iwent over to Concord Cemetery not long ago, and stood with uncoveredhead by his grave.
"And our dear little David Bright! That was a sore loss for you andFather Kenneth.
"You don't know how often I wish to see little Edith. I was greatlydisappointed that you and Father Kenneth did not bring her with youthe last time you came to see me. You didn't realize such a lean,lanky, brawny fellow as I cared so much to see a little girl, did you?I had always wished I might have a little sister. I have shown herpictures to some of the fellows who come to my room, telling them sheis my baby sister. They chaff me and say I do not look much like her.
"The fellows have been very courteous to me.
"Now that the time has come to leave Harvard and Cambridge and Boston,I am sorry to go. I have met such fine people.
"Dr. ---- urges me to return in the fall, to continue my work for myMaster's degree; but I have thought it all over, and believe it wiser,for the present, to work among my people, and get the knowledge I seekat first hand. After that, I'll return to Harvard.
"Long ago, your words gave me my purpose in life,--to prepare myselfto the uttermost for the uplift of my race.
"Daily, I thank you in my heart, for the years I had at Carlisle. Butmost of all, I thank you for yourself and what you have been to me.
"I must not close without telling you of a conversation I had withCol. H---- of Boston. He heard your address on 'The Indian inTransition' at the Mohonk Conference. He told me it was a masterlyaddress, and that you presented the Indian question with a clearnessand force few have done. He told me that what you said would give anew impulse to Indian legislation. He seemed to know of yourconferences at Washington, too.
"I hear great things of Father Kenneth, too; his increasing wealth,his power for leadership, and his upright dealings with men.
"Do you remember how jealous I used to be of him when I was a littlechap? Well, I am jealous no longer. He is the finest man I know.
"But I must stop writing. This letter has run on into an old-fashionedvisit.
"I am coaching one of the fellows in mathematics. Strange work for asavage!
"With love for all of you, including my dear Carla,
"Your loving boy,
"WATHEMAH."
"He's a fine fellow, is Wathemah," said Kenneth, as he cuddled hislittle girl up in his arms.
"Yes, he's developed wonderfully," responded Esther.
"How's Carla?" the husband asked.
"Carla's well, and just now deeply interested in the Y.M. and Y.W.C.A.work."
Here Carla herself appeared, and joined in the welcome home. She wasthe picture of wholesome content.
While they were talking, there was a sound of wheels again. The wagonstopped, a young man jerked out a trunk, paid the driver, and rantowards the veranda. How happy he seemed!
"It's Wathemah," all cried, hastening to meet him. The sprite was inadvance, with arms outstretched.
"I guess you don't reco'nize me," she said. "I'm your little sister."
He laughed, stooped and lifted her in his arms, and kissed her severaltimes.
Then came Esther's turn. At the same time, Kenneth enfolded Wathemah.Then came Carla, whom Wathemah kissed as he used to do in childhooddays, and laughingly repeated a question he was accustomed to ask herthen--"Is my face clean, Carla?"
And all laughed and talked of the days when they had found oneanother, of the Claytons and Jack Harding, and Patrick Murphy and hisfamily, and the Rosses and Carmichaels, and the changes that had takenplace in Gila since they left there.
"I was so sorry to hear of Mr. Clayton's death," said Wathemah. "Whata great-hearted man he was! Such a generous friend! Do you supposeMrs. Clayton and Edith will ever come back to America?"
"No," answered Kenneth, "I fear not. Mrs. Clayton's kindred are inEngland, you know. She never liked America. It was a lonely life forher here, and doubly so after her husband's death."
"And how's Jack? Dear old Jack! I must see him soon," said Wathemah.
"I'll call him up," said Kenneth, going to the phone.
"Give me 148, please."
"No,--1-4-8."
"Hello! Is Mr. Harding within reach?"
"Gone to the store, you say? Send some one for him at once, please,and tell him Mr. Hastings wishes to talk with him. Important."
He hung up the receiver and returned to his place.
"Do you know, Father Kenneth, I have received a letter from Jack everyweek since I left Gila, except the time he was sick? He insisted uponsending me money, saying that it was he who found me, and wanted me tolive."
"Yes, Jack is a generous fellow," assented Kenneth.
"I tried to make him understand that I was strong and able to earn myown way; but it made no difference."
"Just like him! Bless him!" said Esther.
"So I have invested his money for him, in his name, and it will makehim very comfortable some day."
Kenneth smiled.
"Jack is becoming a rich man by his own work, and his own wiseinvestments."
Just then the telephone rang.
"Hello! Hello! Is that you, Jack?" asked Kenneth.
"That's good.
"Yes, yes.
"Something interesting is up. Whom would you like to see at thismoment?
"Mother Esther? That's good. Who next?
"Wathemah? Hold the phone a minute."
He turned to Wathemah.
"Jack says he'd like to see you. He doesn't know you're here. Here!Talk to him yourself."
So Wathemah stepped to the phone.
"Hello, old Jack!"
There was a happy laugh.
"You'll be over to-morrow?"
"What's that you say? _Your_ boy? Well, I guess!"
"How happy Jack will be!" said Kenneth.
"Your little pard?" There was a chuckle from the lithe, muscular youngIndian.
"To be sure, I'm still your 'pard,' only I'm far from little now. I'ma strapping fellow."
"What's that? You feel the education has come between us? No more o'that, old fellow! You're one of the biggest-hearted friends man everhad!"
"Tell him to come over as soon as he can," interrupted Kenneth.
"Father Kenneth says 'Come over as soon as you can.'"
"You will? Good! What a reunion we'll have! Good-by."
He hung up the receiver, and the conversation drifted on.
"Has Jack made a successful overseer?" questioned Wathemah.
"Very. He's a fine fellow. He is still very religious, you know, andthe men respect him. He has become an indefatigable reader and studentof labor questions. Recently I heard him give a speech that surprisedme. He grasps his subject, and has a direct way of putting things."
"I should expect Jack to be a forceful speaker," commented Wathemah,"if he ever overcame his diffidence so as to speak at all. But tellme about the school at Gila. That little spot is dear to me."
"You should see the building there now," said Esther. "Do you knowthat the people who were most lawless when we were there, are nowlaw-abiding citizens? Gila is said to be one of the best towns inArizona."
"That see
ms like a miracle,--your miracle, Mother Esther." He rosefrom his chair and stood for a moment behind her, and said in a lowvoice, as in childhood, "_Me_ mother, _me_ teacher." There was asuspicious choke in his voice, and, turning, he lifted Edith, tossedher to his shoulder, and ran with her down toward the road. Kennethovertook him, and as they strolled along, they talked of many things,but chiefly of Esther, and her great work for the Indian.
"How did it all come about?" asked Wathemah.
"Oh, in a roundabout way. Her magazine articles on the Indian firstdrew attention to her. Then her address at the Mohonk Conferencebrought her into further prominence. She was asked to speak before theIndian Commission. Later, she was sent by the Government to visitIndian schools, and report their condition. She certainly has shownmarked ability. The more she is asked to do, the more she seemscapable of doing."
"A wonderful woman, isn't she?"
"Yes. Vital. What she has done for the Indian, she has also done forthe cause of general education in Arizona."
"I fear she will break down under all this, Father Kenneth."
"Never fear. Work is play to her. She thinks rapidly, speaks simply,and finds people who need her absorbingly interesting."
"Yes, but she gives herself too much to others," protested the Indianyouth.
"Well, we must let her. She is happier so," responded Kenneth.
"What about your own work, Father Kenneth? I have heard inMassachusetts that you are a great force for public good throughoutthis region. But tell me of the mines."
"I invested much of my fortune _here_," said Kenneth, giving a broadoutward sweep of his arm. "Some of the mines are paying largedividends. My fortune has more than doubled. But Arizona has beenunfortunate in being infested with dishonest promoters. I am trying tobring about legislation that will protect people from this wholesalerobbery."
"I suspect you enjoy the fight," laughed the youth.
"It has created bitter enemies," said Kenneth, gravely.
So talking, they again sought the house, and found Esther and Carla onthe veranda. The latter sat where Wathemah could see her delicateprofile as she bent over some sewing. Quiet happiness and content hadtransformed her into a lovely woman.
"How beautiful you are, Carla!" said Wathemah, admiringly.
He enjoyed her confusion.
"Do you remember the day I played truant, Carla, and you found me inthe canyon, and made me ashamed of myself?"
Did she?
He did not notice the shadow over the winsome face.
"Do you know, Wathemah," said Esther, "Carla would not remain atcollege, because she felt I needed her. But she has become anindefatigable student."
Later, Wathemah discovered for himself that she really had become afine student. One day he asked her how she came to study Greek.
"Oh," she said, hesitatingly, "I loved Grecian literature, andhistory, and art. And I had often heard that my father was a fineGreek scholar. So I began by myself. Then I had Sister Esther help me.And after that, it became to me a great delight."
They were a merry party that day. All were in fine spirits. In themidst of their talk and laughter, the telephone rang.
"Some one for you, Esther," said Kenneth, returning to the veranda.
On her return, he looked up questioningly.
"The superintendent of education wishes me to give an address beforethe teachers at Tucson next month," she said, quietly.
"And will you do it?" asked Wathemah.
"Do it?" echoed Kenneth. "Of course she'll do it! She doesn't know howto say 'no.'"
Esther smiled indulgently.
"You see, Wathemah, the needs of the new country are great. They wouldnot invite me to lecture so frequently, if they had enough workers. Tome, the opportunity to help means obligation to help."
"Our Mother Esther has just returned from a conference at Washington,and another in Montana," said Kenneth, "and here she is going offagain. The truth is she has become an educational and moral force inthe Southwest."
"We are glad to share her with all who need her," said Carla, simply.
"Yes, lad," added Kenneth, rising, "we are glad she has the power tohelp."
The next morning, they were awakened early by John Harding, callingWathemah to let him in. Such a meeting as that was! Jack did not seemto know how to behave. The little unkempt lad, untutored, andundisciplined, whom he had known and loved, was gone; and in hisplace, stood a lithe, graceful, really elegant young man. Jack stoodback abashed. _His_ Wathemah, his little Wathemah, was gone. Somethinggot in his throat. He turned aside, and brushed his hand across hischeek. But Wathemah slipped his arm around his neck, and together theytramped off up the mountain for a visit. Then Jack knew that his boyhad really come back to him, but developed and disciplined into a manof character and force.
That was a gala day for Jack Harding and the Hastings household. Noone had ever seen Jack so happy before.
Late that afternoon all stood on the veranda.
"My little kid," said Jack, laying his hand on Wathemah's shoulder,"I've worked fur ye, prayed fur ye, all the years. And now you'vecome, now you've come," he kept saying, over and over.
"Say, Jack," said Wathemah, "do you remember the time you found measleep up the canyon, and took up a collection to send me East withMother Esther?"
Jack nodded.
"Well, that money, with all that you have since sent me, has beeninvested for you. And now, Jack, my dear old pard, that money has madeyou a little fortune. You need work no more."
Jack choked. He tried to speak, but turned his face away. Estherslipped her arm through his, and told him she wanted to visit withhim. So the two walked up and down the road in front of the house,talking.
"We are all so happy over Wathemah," she said. "I know you must be,too. He is really your boy, for you saved him, Jack."
Then Jack Harding poured his heart out to her. She understood him, allhis struggles, all his great unselfish love for the boy. She knew thepain of his awakening, when he found that the child whom he had loved,whom he had toiled for all these years, needed him no more. It waspathetic to her.
"But, Jack dear," she was saying, "I am sure Wathemah will always be ajoy to you. Only wait. My heart tells me he has some great purpose. Hewill tell us in time. When he does, you will want to help him carryout his plans, won't you?"
Up and down the veranda, walked Kenneth and Wathemah. Kenneth's handand arm rested on the youth's shoulder.
"Yes, Wathemah," he was saying, "little David's death was a greatsorrow to us. He was shot by an unfriendly Indian, you know."
For a moment his face darkened. The two walked on in silence.
"And Mother Esther?" Wathemah said in a husky tone; "how can she stillgive her life for the uplift of my people?"
"Oh, you know as well as I. She serves a great Master."
They talked from heart to heart, as father and son.
At last all the household gathered on the veranda to watch theafterglow in the sky. Esther slipped her arm through Wathemah's, andthey stood facing the west.
"And so my boy is to enter the Indian service," she said.
"Yes," he answered. "You know I majored in anthropology andeducation. My summers among various Indian tribes were to help me knowthe Indian. My thesis for my doctorate is to be on 'The Education ofthe Indian in the United States.' When I have my material ready, I'llreturn to Harvard and remain until I complete my work for mydoctorate."
"What next, Wathemah?" There was a thrill in Esther's voice.
The Indian youth squared his shoulders, lifted his head, and said, asthough making a solemn covenant:
"The uplift of my race!"
And Esther's face was shining.
Transcriber's Notes
Omission of punctuation and misspellings that appeared to betypesetter errors have been corrected.
Slang and colloquialisms in dialogue has been left as it appeared inthe original.
In this Latin-1 text version, the following substitutio
n system hasbeen used for non-Latin-1 diacritical marks:-
[=e] e with Macron [=u] u with Macron [)e] e with Breve
There is a Unicode version of the text file which has all diacriticalmarks as per the original book.
In Chapter XV, the Apache makes the statement "N[=e]-sh[=e]-aed-nl[)e]h'""You be my squaw." This is repeated several times in Chapter XXI. In theoriginal the diacritical marks are typeset differently in the subsequententries. On the assumption that the first entry is more accurate, allrepetitions are changed to agree with the original.
In the original there is some dialogue of one sentence that has beentypeset across two paragraphs. These have been closed up into the sameparagraph to aid reading flow and to maintain consistency.
In Chapter XXI (page 250 in the original) there is a line that appearsto be out of order.
The original reads:- His coming was about as welcome to her as the wolves would be. him. She shook her head, pointed to her ankle, and
"N[=e]-sh[=e]-aed-nl[)e]h'," he said, beckoning her to join again tried to climb. Her efforts were futile. Then
This has been rearranged as:- His coming was about as welcome to her as the wolves would be.
"N[=e]-sh[=e]-aed-nl[)e]h'," he said, beckoning her to join him. She shook her head, pointed to her ankle, and again tried to climb. Her efforts were futile. Then
In Chapter XXIV the sentence "The child was given to confidences,especially with her father" has been changed to "especially withher mother" as the reference to father made no contextual sense.
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