“Hate you!” Jack stared. “Good Lord! What are you talking about? Why! Dad would go crazy over you. He’s the best old dad that ever lived. Cato’s already deserted me for you. He’s your sworn slave. He thinks you’re the spirit and image of the Telfair family. By the way, he told me yesterday that you sure did have the Telfair nose. You may not think that’s a compliment, but Cato meant it for one. As for the neighbors----” Jack stopped short. He had just remembered that for several days he had failed to grieve over Sally Habersham and that he had quite forgotten that his life was blighted. An expression of gloom came over his features. Alagwa noticed it, but she said nothing. She had been taught not to force her chatter on a warrior, and her experience with white men had been too brief to change the ingrained custom of years. Besides, she was startled by Cato’s remark. Woman-like, she had already discovered the strong family likeness she bore to Jack; and it had pleased rather than troubled her. But Cato’s perception of it made her anxious. If he noticed it, others might do so and might grow suspicious; her identity might be detected, and if it was, her mission would fail. Before Jack could notice her abstraction the break in the forest came. The trees stopped short, leaning westward as if dragged toward the sunset by some mighty impulse, only to be held back by one yet mightier. To north and to south the line of the forest ran interminably away, till it blended with the long grasses that swelled to meet it. In front stretched the prairie, mile after mile of billowing green, flower-studded, cobweb-sheeted, ablaze with the painted wings of butterflies. Over it the breeze blew softly, laden with whispers, heavy with the scent of sun-dried grass. With a gasp both Jack and Alagwa reined in. Then with wild whoops of delight they shook their reins and drove their heels into their horses’ sides and darted forward, out from behind the wagon, over the fresh springy turf. As they passed, Williams, seated by Cato on the box, leaned forward and hailed them. “We’re near Fort Wayne,” he called. “An’ there’s white men there--none of your d--d Indian lovers. We’ll see what they’ve got to say about your high-handed ways. And”--venomously--“we’ll see what they’ve got to say about that half-breed boy, too.”