"_Flowers_, me teacher." She stooped, drew him to her, and kissed his dirty face, saying as she did so, "Flowers? How lovely!" He clasped her hand, and they walked on together. The life story of the little Indian had deeply touched her. It was now three years since he had been found, a baby of three, up in Line Canyon. That was just after one of the Apache raids. It was believed that he was the child of Geronimo. When the babe was discovered by the white men who pursued the Indians, he was blinking in the sun. A cowboy, one Jack Harding, had insisted upon taking the child back to the camp with them. Then the boy had found a sort of home in Keith's saloon, where he had since lived. There he had been teased and petted, and cuffed and beaten, and cursed by turns, and being a child of unusually bright mind, and the constant companion of rough men, he had learned every form of evil a child can possibly know. His naturally winsome nature had been changed by teasing and abuse until he seemed to deserve the sobriquet they gave him,--"little savage." Now at the age of perhaps six years, he had been sent to the Gila school; and there Esther Bright found him. The teacher was at once attracted to the child. Many years after, when Wathemah had become a distinguished man, he would tell how his life began when a lovely New England girl, a remarkable teacher, found him in that little school in Gila. He never failed to add that all that he was or might become, he owed entirely to her. The Indian child's devotion to the teacher began that first day at school, and was so marked it drew upon him persecution from the other children. Never could they make him ashamed. When the teacher was present, he ignored their comments and glances, and carried himself as proudly as a prince of the realm; but when she was absent, many a boy, often a boy larger than himself, staggered under his furious attacks. The child had splendid physical courage. Take him for all in all, he was no easy problem to solve. The teacher studied him, listened to him, reasoned with him, loved him; and from the first, he seemed to know intuitively that she was to be trusted and obeyed. On this day, he was especially happy as he trudged along, his hand in that of his Beloved. "Did you see how beautiful the sunset is, Wathemah?" asked the teacher, looking down at the picturesque urchin by her side. He gave a little grunt, and looked into the sky. "Flowers in sky," he said, his face full of delight. "God canyon put flowers, he Wathemah love?" "Yes, dear. God put flowers in the canyon because he loves you." They stopped, and both looked up into the sky. Then, after a moment, she continued: "You are like the flowers of the canyon, Wathemah. God put you here for me to find and love." "Love Wathemah?" "Yes." Then she stooped and gathered him into her arms. He nestled to her. "You be Wathemah's mother?" he questioned.