"Hush! There comes some one else. For the love of cats!" John Levine emerged from the darkness of the forest into the fire glow. "How!" he grunted, slipping into an empty space, opposite the two eavesdroppers. "How," returned the Indians. Silence in the woods, except for the crackling fire. "Kent, let's go! I don't want to listen, I don't want to know." The cold sweat was standing on Lydia's forehead. Kent seized her arm. "You've got to stay. It's your business to know," he whispered sharply. "Where's Eagle's Feather?" asked Levine. "Sick," replied an Indian. John nodded. "I got back from Washington today. Big fight there. Marshall and his crowd, they'll make a big fight. I may have to compromise. I may make my bill read, only mixed bloods can sell their lands, not full bloods." "Good!" said an Indian. "Full blood don't want to sell, anyhow." "Better for you mixed bloods," agreed Levine, "because you'll get higher prices for your land, but worse for us whites, for there'll be less land, unless--you mixed bloods should happen to swear the full bloods are mixed too." No one spoke for a minute, then a fat, yellow-faced half-breed laughed. "I'll swear old Chief Dawn had a white great-grandmother. I'll get even with him, for throwing me out of the council." "Exactly," said Levine. "It'll be a good way for all of you to pay up old debts. Any of Marshall's men been up here lately?" After a pause, one of the younger Indians said, "Some young fellows been going through the woods measuring out a road and they acted like they was just out for a vacation when any one was around. A year ago I see one of the fellows riding out with Marshall." Levine grunted. Lydia's heart was pounding so hard that it really pained her. She stared at John unbelievably. Yet it was the same familiar, sallow face, with the gaunt look about the cheeks. Only the eyes were strange. Lydia had never seen them so hard, so searching before. Kent was breathing deep and he did not loose his hold on her arm. "Well," said Levine, "is that all you folks have got to report, after six months? What do you think I'm paying you for?" An old mixed blood, almost as dark as a full blood, removed his pipe from his mouth. "All the shoes we buy this year made out of paper, cost four dollars, melt when they get wet. Woman at Last Chance tell me Injun Agent tell her he gets those shoes from Marshall." "The hog!" grunted Levine. "Anything more?" What more might have come Lydia did not know for an old squaw came tottering into the fire glow. She was gray headed and emaciated. "Oh, that's our old squaw, Kent, remember?" whispered Lydia. "Shut up!" murmured Kent. The squaw made her way up to John. There was something sinister in the look of her and he rose. "What you do now, white man," she snarled. "Steal! Steal more, eh?"