Now, if Mrs. Ripley was skilful in reading the thoughts of the Delaware, it may be that he, too, suspected the real cause for her objections. Be that as it may, it was plain he was not satisfied. He held the Ripley family in too high regard to offend them openly; but Omas was set in his ways. He made no reply to the last remark, but stepped a little nearer the fire and sat down, moody and silent. "You have said enough, mother," remarked Ben in a low voice; "it will anger him to say more. I will sit with my head against the rock; do you lie down on the blanket and let your head rest in my lap. I think it will be safe for us all." With some hesitation the mother complied, the Delaware apparently paying no heed to them. He kept his seat on the ground, looking gloomily into the fire and in deep thought. A struggle was going on in his mind, and no one could say whether the good or evil would win. Ben Ripley was anxious that his mother should sleep. She had undergone the severest of trials since early morning, and none had wrought harder than she. The morrow would make further demands on her strength. As for himself, he was young, sturdy, and could stand more and rally sooner than she. When, therefore, she said something in a low tone, he placed his hand softly over her mouth and whispered--"S--h! go to sleep, baby." He smoothed the silky hair away from the forehead so gently and so soothingly that she could not resist the effect. She meant to keep awake until Omas made his final decision; but no person can resist the approach of slumber, except by active movement. Before long, and while Ben's hand was still gliding like down over the forehead, the faint, regular breathing showed she was asleep. The son smiled. "Good! The best mother that ever lived! Heavenly Father, watch over her and spare her for many years. Watch over us all." He looked across at Omas, on the other side of the camp fire, and saw the Delaware gazing fixedly at him. He arose as silently as a shadow and stepped nearer, peering down on the pale, handsome face with its closed eyes. "She sleep?" asked the Indian. "Yes," replied Ben, softly, with a nod of his head. He looked at her a moment and then across to the other blanket, where the round, chubby cheeks of the little girls reflected the firelight. He waited a moment, and then the gentler side of his nature triumphed. He bent over the forms, kissed each in turn, straightened up, and pointing to the eastward, said to Ben--"Go dat way--you safe--goodbye." "Goodbye," replied the lad, knowing it was useless to protest. Like the gliding of the shadow of a cloud, the Delaware passed beyond the circle of light thrown out by the fire into the deep gloom of the wood. The moccasins pressed the dry leaves without giving back any sound, and he vanished.