"No, indeed: my peace paint," laughed the girl. "The messenger you saw talking with Wahneenah and me is from an encampment a dozen miles or so to the westward. There are about five hundred Indians in the camp, and they are getting restless. They are always restless, it seems to me," and she sighed profoundly. "It is such a problem, isn't it? They think they have right on their side, and the whites think _they_ have; and there is so much that is good, so much that is evil, on both. Well, the red people are planning treachery. The brave you saw is a real friend to the pale-faces, and one of my closest confidants. He came to warn me. His tribe, or the mixed tribes in the camp, are getting ready for an attack upon us, or some other near-by settlement. I must go out and stop it,--find out their grievance and right it if I can. If not--Well, I must make peace. I may be gone for several days, and I may be back before morning. You must make yourselves comfortable somewhere. Ask Doctor Littlejohn. If he is too absorbed in his studies, then talk with One, his eldest son. He is a fine fellow, and knows everything about this village. Good-by." "But, child alive! You ain't going alone, single-handed, to face five hundred bloody Indians! You must be crazy!" "Oh, no, I'm not. It is all right. I am not afraid. There isn't an Indian living who would harm a hair of my head, if he knew me; and almost all in Illinois do know me, either by sight or reputation. I am very happy with them and shall have a pleasant visit; that is, after I have dissuaded them from this proposed attack." "Kit, you couldn't do it. 'Tain't in nature. A young girl, alone, pretty as you are--You _sha'n't_ do it,--not with my consent; not while I'm alive and can set a horse or handle a gun. No, sirree. If you go, I go, and that's the long and short of it." "No, dear Father Abel; you must not go; indeed you must not. It would ruin everything. It makes me very sad to have these constant broils and ill-feelings coming up between my white-faced and red-faced friends; yet the Lord permits it, and I try to be patient. But I tell you again, and you must believe it, that I am as safe out yonder in that camp of savages as I am here, this minute, with you. I am the Sun Maid, the Unafraid, the Daughter of Peace, the Snowflake. They have as many names for me as I am years old, I fancy. Each name means some noble thing they think they see in my character, and so I try to live up to it. It's hard work, though, because I'm--well, I'm so quick-tempered and full of faults. But I suppose if God didn't mean me to do this work, be a sort of peacemaker, He wouldn't have made me just as I am or put me in just this place. That's what the Doctor says, and so I do the best I can. After all, it's a great honor, I think, to be let to serve people in this way, and so--Good-by, good-by!"