“D'ye mean to say”--it was wonderful how gratuitously husky his voice became at this moment--“d'ye mean ter tell me ye didn't set on them Injins to wipe out the Silsbees, so that ye could hev an out-an'-out gal ORFEN on hand fer Mrs. Peyton ter adopt--eh?” But here Clarence was forced to protest, and strongly, although Jim contemptuously ignored it. “Don't lie ter me,” he repeated mysteriously, “I'm fly. I'm dark, young fel. We're cahoots in this thing?” And with this artful suggestion of being in possession of Clarence's guilty secret he departed in time to elude the usual objurgation of his superior, “Phil,” the head teamster. Nor was his baleful fascination exercised entirely on Clarence. In spite of Mrs. Peyton's jealously affectionate care, Clarence's frequent companionship, and the little circle of admiring courtiers that always surrounded Susy, it became evident that this small Eve had been secretly approached and tempted by the Satanic Jim. She was found one day to have a few heron's feathers in her possession with which she adorned her curls, and at another time was discovered to have rubbed her face and arms with yellow and red ochre, confessedly the free gift of Jim Hooker. It was to Clarence alone that she admitted the significance and purport of these offerings. “Jim gived 'em to me,” she said, “and Jim's a kind of Injin hisself that won't hurt me; and when bad Injins come, they'll think I'm his Injin baby and run away. And Jim said if I'd just told the Injins when they came to kill papa and mamma, that I b'longed to him, they'd hev runned away.” “But,” said the practical Clarence, “you could not; you know you were with Mrs. Peyton all the time.” “Kla'uns,” said Susy, shaking her head and fixing her round blue eyes with calm mendacity on the boy, “don't you tell me. I WAS THERE!” Clarence started back, and nearly fell over the wagon in hopeless dismay at this dreadful revelation of Susy's powers of exaggeration. “But,” he gasped, “you know, Susy, you and me left before--” “Kla'uns,” said Susy calmly, making a little pleat in the skirt of her dress with her small thumb and fingers, “don't you talk to me. I was there. I'se a SERIVER! The men at the fort said so! The SERIVERS is allus, allus there, and allus allus knows everythin'.” Clarence was too dumfounded to reply. He had a vague recollection of having noticed before that Susy was very much fascinated by the reputation given to her at Fort Ridge as a “survivor,” and was trying in an infantile way to live up to it. This the wicked Jim had evidently encouraged. For a day or two Clarence felt a little afraid of her, and more lonely than ever.