Mrs. Parker was indignant at the covert ridicule of her husband, and was silent all through the meal; indeed, the burden of the conversation fell upon Jennie and Maynard, but they were entirely willing to bear it, and were not lacking for words. "It is good to hear the bugles again," Jennie remarked, as one of the calls rang out on the still air, sweet and sad and as far removed from war as a love song. "They're not so pleasant when they call to the same monotonous round of daily duties," said Mr. Payne. Curtis smiled. "Here's another disgruntled officer. What would you do--kill off the Indians and move into the city?" "To kill off a few measly whites might insure completer peace and tranquillity," replied Maynard. "You fellows couldn't be more righteously employed," put in Lawson. "You might begin on the political whoopers round about." "What blasphemy!" cried Jennie. "These 'noble pioneers!'" "Founding a mighty State," added Curtis. "Founding a state of anarchy!" retorted Lawson. "They never did have any regard for law, except a law that worked in their favor." Parker got in a word. "Lawson, do you know what you are? You're what Norman Bass used to call 'a blame a-riss-to-crat.'" This provoked a laugh at Lawson's expense. "I admit it," said Lawson, calmly. "I am interested in the cowboy and the miner--as wild animals--as much as any of you, but as founders of an empire! The hard and unlovely truth is, they are representatives of every worst form of American vice; they are ignorant, filthy, and cruel. Their value as couriers of the Christian army has never been great with me." Maynard was unusually reflective as he stared at Lawson. "That's mighty plain talk," he observed, in the pause that followed. "You couldn't run for office on speeches like that." "Lawson's living doesn't depend on prevarication," remarked Curtis. "If it did--" "If it did I'd lie like the best--I mean the worst of you," replied Lawson. "In a few years there will not be an Indian left," Parker remarked. "The world will be the poorer." "They will all be submerged," continued Parker. "Why submerge them? Is the Anglo-Saxon type so adorable in the sight of God that He desires all the races of the earth to be like unto it? If the proselytizing zeal of the missionaries and functionaries of the English-speaking race could work out, the world would lose all its color, all its piquancy. Hungary would be like Scotland, Scotland would be Cornwall, Cornwall would duplicate London, and London reflect New York. Beautiful scheme for tailors, shoe-makers, and preachers, but depressing to artists." "You must be one of those chaps the missionaries tell about, who would keep men savage just to please your sense of the picturesque." "Savage! There's a fine word. What is a savage?" "A man who needs converting to our faith," said Jennie. "A man to exercise the army on," said Maynard. "A man to rob in the name of the Lord," said Parker.