"Well," he said in his pious intonation, "if the Osages are loyal, that clears Jean here. He's an Osage, isn't he?" Jean made no reply; neither did Le Claire, and Tell Mapleson turned casually to the strangers, engaging them in conversation. "We shall want our horses at four sharp in the morning," one of the two came out to say to Cam. "We have a long hard day before us." "At your service," answered Cam. "O'mie, take the order in your head." "Is that the biggest hostler you've got?" looking contemptuously at little O'mie standing beside me. "If you Kansas folks weren't such damned abolitionists you'd have some able-bodied niggers to do your work right." O'mie winked at me and gave a low whistle. Neither the wink nor the whistle was lost on the speaker, who frowned darkly at the boy. Cam squinted up at the men good-naturedly. "Them horses dangerous?" he asked. "Yes, they are," the stranger replied. "Can we have a room downstairs? We want to go to bed early. We have had a hard day." "You can begin to say your 'Now I lay me' right away in here if you like," and the landlord led the way into a room off the veranda. One of the two lingered outside in conversation with Mapleson for a brief time. "Come, go home with me, O'mie," I said later, when the crowd began to thin out. "Not me," he responded. "Didn't ye hear, 'four A. M. sharp'? It's me flat on me bed till the dewy morn an' three-thirty av it. Them's vicious horses. An' they'll be to curry clane airly. Phil," he added in a lower voice, "this town's a little overrun wid strangers wid no partic'lar business av their own, an' we don't need 'em in ours. For one private citizen, I don't like it. The biggest one of them two men in there's named Yeager, an' he's been here three toimes lately, stayin' only a few hours each toime." O'mie looked so little to me this evening! I had hardly noted how the other boys had outgrown him. "You're not very big for a horseman after all, my son, but you're grit clear through. You may do something yet the big fellows couldn't do," I said affectionately. He was Irish to the bone, and never could entirely master his brogue, but we had no social caste lines, and Springvale took him at face value, knowing his worth. At Marjie's gate I stopped to make sure everything was all right. Somehow when I knew the Indian was in town I could never feel safe for her. She hurried out in response to my call. "I'm so glad to see you to-night, Phil," she said, a little tremulously. "I wish father were here. Do you think he is safe?" She was leaning on the gate, looking eagerly into my eyes. The shadows of the May twilight were deepening around us, and Marjie's white face looked never so sweet to me as now, in her dependence on my assurance. "I'm sure Mr. Whately is all right. It is the bad news that gets here first. I'm so glad our folks weren't at Chancellorsville."