Something like a note of amusement at the young girl's persistence was in John's voice, but he answered gravely enough. "Yes, I've bought his pines and I'll get them out, next winter. There's no denying we want the Indians' land. But there's no denying that throwing the Indian off the reservation is the best thing for the Indian." "But what makes Charlie think you're stealing them? And he says that when the pines go, the tribe will die." "I paid for the pine," insisted Levine. "An Indian has no idea of buying and selling. It's a cruel incident, this breaking up of the reservation, but it's like cutting off a leg to save the patient's life. Sentiment is wasted." "That's the great trouble with America, these days," said Amos, his pipe bowl glowing in the summer darkness. "All these foreigners coming in here filled the country with gush. What's become of the New Englanders in this town? Well, they founded the University, named the streets, planted the elms and built the Capitol. Since then they've been snowed under by the Germans and the Norwegians, a lot of beer drinkers and fish eaters. Nobody calls a spade a spade, these days. They rant and spout socialism. The old blood's gone. The old, stern, puritanical crowd can't be found in America to-day." Lydia was giving little heed to her father. Amos was given to fireside oratory. She was turning over in her mind the scene in the woods between John and the half breeds. That then was a part of the process of removing the patient's leg! The end justified the means. She heaved a great sigh of relief. "Well, then, I don't have to worry about that any more," she said. "Only, I don't dare to think about those starving old squaws, or the baby that froze to death." "That's right," agreed Levine, comfortably. "Don't think about them." Old Lizzie snored gently, gave a sudden sigh and a jerk. "Land! I must have dozed off for a minute." Lydia laughed. "It was nip and tuck between you and Adam, Lizzie. Let's get in away from the mosquitoes--I'm so glad I had this talk with you, Mr. Levine." "Lydia should have been a boy," said Amos; "she likes politics." "I'd rather be a girl than anything in the world," protested Lydia, and the two men laughed. If there was still a doubt in the back of Lydia's mind regarding the reservation, for a time, at least, she succeeded in quieting it. She dreaded meeting Charlie and was relieved to hear that Dr. Fulton had taken him East with him for a couple of weeks to attend a health convention. One of the not unimportant results of the camping trip was that Lydia rediscovered the pine by the gate. It was the same pine against which she had beaten her little fists, the night of Patience's death. She had often climbed into its lower branches, getting well gummed with fragrant pitch in the process. But after her return from the reservation, the tall tree had a new significance to her.