Though Mr. Grubb still lived, the Indians decided that Poit must die, and they searched for him until they captured him. He pleaded with them desperately, reminding them that he was their relative whom they had known all their lives and that Mr. Grubb was only a stranger; but they would not listen. When he heard that Poit was to die, Mr. Grubb tried to save him, but in vain. He did, however, succeed in saving Poit's family whom the Indians would have killed also. This forgiving spirit amazed and touched them still more. Now this story is sad and dreadful and there would not be any reason for telling it if Poit's death were the end. But in a way, it was only a beginning. Mr. Grubb had to make two journeys for further medical attention, one to Ascuncion, nearly four hundred miles away, and one to Buenos Ayres, nine hundred miles away. It was December when Poit attacked him; it was June before he was able to take up his work. When he did so, the seed so strangely sown by poor Poit had ripened. Two Indians who had been impressed by Mr. Grubb's devotion and by his almost miraculous recovery asked to be baptized. Thus the foundation of the Church in the Chaco was laid. Mr. Grubb is still working, and the extent of his influence has greatly increased. The Indians in the distant settlements no longer wait for him to seek them out; they come to see for themselves what he has done and to hear the story he has to tell. The government has named him the "pacificator of the Indians." Do you not suppose that sometimes as he thinks of his years in the Chaco, he thinks with pity of poor Poit and hopes that his cry "Ak kai! Ak kai!" showed repentance as well as fear of punishment? IV TREE-NOT-SHAKEN-BY-THE-WIND Ten-year-old Fred Hope looked up at the men who looked down at him. He was very happy because he had just taken the pencil and paper which one of the men handed him, and written Fred Hope $1.00 He lived on a farm near Flat Rock, Illinois, and many times he had seen his father sign his name to a subscription paper when the deacons had been collecting money for the church and had made up his mind that some day he would sign his own name. At last he had done so, and his eyes were shining. "Now," said he, "I've got to find a way to make that dollar." He took a hoe and some beans and went into the garden to begin to earn his dollar. He planted the beans and watched eagerly to see them grow. It was a bad year for beans in Illinois and there was no crop. But he did not give up. From beans he turned to rats. The rats had been eating his father's grain and Fred made a contract to rid the place of rats at five cents apiece. It happened there were more rats than beans in Flat Rock that year and no Indian chief ever counted with more pride his scalps of white men than Fred the notches which numbered the rats he had slain. Soon the dollar was paid, and his father's grain was safe.