"But, you say, they belong to the Indians! Friends, they belong to a filthy, degenerate, lazy race of savages, who refuse to till the fields or cut the pines, who spend on whiskey the money allowed them by a benevolent government and live for the rest, like beasts of the field. "Why, I ask you, should Indians be pampered and protected, while whites live only in the bitter air of competition? "I am not mincing words to-night. I do not talk of taking the lands from the Indians by crooked methods. You all know the law. An Indian may not sell the lands allotted to him. I want you to send me to Congress to change that law. I want the Indian to be able to sell his acreage." Levine stopped and bowed. Pandemonium broke loose in the Square. Clapping, hisses, cheers and cat-calls. Lydia clung to her father's arm while he began to struggle through the crowd. "Well," he said, as they reached the outer edge of the Square and headed for the trolley, "the battle is on." "But what will the Indians do, Daddy, if they sell their land?" asked Lydia. "Do! Why just what John intimated. Get out and hustle for a living like the rest of us do. Why not?" Why not indeed! "What did some of the people hiss for?" asked Lydia. "Oh, there's a cheap bunch of sentimentalists in the town,--all of 'em, you'll notice, with good incomes,--who claim the Indians are like children, so we should take care of 'em like children. Then there's another bunch who make a fat living looting the Indians. They don't want the reservation broken up. I'm going to sit on the back seat of the car and smoke." Lydia clambered into the seat beside her father. "Well--but--well, I suppose if Mr. Levine feels that way and you too, it's right. But they are kind of like children. Charlie Jackson's awful smart, but he's like a child too." "I don't care what they're like," said Amos. "We've babied 'em long enough. Let 'em get out and hustle." "Do you think Mr. Levine'll get elected?" Amos shrugged his shoulders. "Never can tell. This is a Democratic town, but Levine is standing for something both Democrats and Republicans want. It'll be a pretty fight. May split the Democratic party." This was the beginning of Lydia's reading of the newspapers. To her father's secret amusement, she found the main details of Levine's battle as interesting as a novel. Every evening when he got home to supper he found her poring over the two local papers and primed with questions for him. Up to this moment she had lived in a quiet world bounded by her school, the home, the bit of lake shore and wood with which she was intimate, and peopled by her father and her few friends.