Ten minutes later, and he would never have passed for the same man first seen. His face was daubed with streaks of paint, making it hideous indeed. The broad wampum belt contained both bowie knife and pistol, while a coarse jacket and leggings of wolf-skin made the tall figure appear animal-like in its ungainly trappings. But what wonder the slumbering savage nature was asserting itself! For two long years, Trapper Dan—he liked the name the white men had given him, successful hunter that he was—yes, for two years, Trapper Dan had worked and slaved, encouraged by really kind leaders, and with simple faith in the white man’s promises, he believed the plot of land he was cultivating so untiringly, and the rude but enduring little building would be his to keep forever. He was a bright man naturally, and grasped eagerly the offers made by the superior class of beings known to him as the pale faces. But now, when things were working never so easily and prosperously, the reservation was to be broken up, or at least so meanly encroached upon, that Trapper Dan’s little mite of an estate was included in the reservation to be reserved no longer. What wonder, we repeat, that the barbarous instincts of the man awoke in vengeful fury toward the unscrupulous destroyers of his peace and his home? For, after all, the holy instincts clustering about the idea of a home are easily understood and fostered even by the savage when once he can grasp its blessed meaning. In hateful guise and with deadly weapons, the hunted trapper stole, forth under cover of the darkness, his poor heart thirsting for revenge. He realized vaguely that the Great Spirit would be displeased at his anger, but he stifled all that as he vaulted along toward the building where a great meeting was to be held. A slight young man just entering on a missionary career had resolved that on this, his first night of addressing the Indians, he would tell them in the very plainest language possible the simple story of Jesus and His cross. Doubtless they had heard it many times before, but no matter, it should be told to-night mainly in words of one syllable, so that even the most untaught could understand its import. Cowering close by one of the openings answering for windows was the unseen figure of Trapper Dan, his dark face and darker designs alike in hiding until the time for action should come. Once the people were engrossed in the speaker, he would shoot into the building and bring down more than one pale face on the platform, then he would hide again, only to pillage and burn later on in the night.