He could not, however, quite master the idea, and wished his mother was awake, that she might explain herself. Then his mind returned to the subject, and lo, the mist rolled away, and the truth shone out. "I see it: father should have sought direction and strength of God. And that is just what I ought to do. He can give me grace to perform my duty,--yes, even to choose it." And Tom, under the inspiration of the light that was breaking in upon his soul, resolved,-- "I'll ask God to enable me to do as mother has advised, and as I see to be right in the circumstances." And covering his face with his hands, he lifted up his heart in prayer. As he prayed, a heavenly peace seemed to pervade his whole being. It stole upon him so gently and unexpectedly, that he felt like shouting praises to God; and at last, unable to keep his marvellous happiness to himself, he called, softly,-- "Mother, mother!" "What do you wish, my son?" she asked, always ready to answer her children's calls. "O, mother," he replied, "I have been struggling and praying, and I've got the victory." Instantly she was kneeling on the rough floor by his side,--she understood him,--and tears of grateful joy ran down her face, and she said,-- "It is as I would have it, Tom. God has taken you up, and all will be well." Next morning Tom arose with a peaceful, serious face. His mother did not allude to the happy change that had transpired within him during the night, but as she busied herself about breakfast, she would occasionally wipe away the tears, for her heart was full. "Mother," said he, as they finished their frugal meal, "I've been thinking it would be a good plan to get up all the wood we can while the weather is pleasant. Winter'll be coming along by and by, and it'll be so nice to have a warm fire all the time then, and not have to wade through the snow after something to burn." "Yes," she replied, "we have not had our Indian summer yet; and while that lasts we shall use but little fuel, and if you and the children are smart, you can get quite a pile ahead." "Why is the beautiful spell we have in fall called Indian summer?" he asked. "Because," replied his mother, "the Indians were in the habit of attacking the white settlements then; they don't go on their war expeditions after cold weather sets in. And," she added, sighing, "I shall be glad when snow comes, for I shall feel that we are safe until spring opens." "The Allens are dreadful mad about their cattle," remarked Tom. "The old man tracked them to a ravine in the woods, and found that his oxen had been killed and dressed: the horns and hide lay on the ground, and the blood was scarcely cold, but not an Indian was to be seen. He couldn't even find a trail, and he's an old Indian-fighter, you know." "Have any Indians been seen near here, since?"