A terrific struggle was waged within his being. He fought as he never
fought before. Tenaciously he hung upon hope for the day of
salvation--that hope hoary with age. Defying all odds against him, he
refused to surrender faith in good people.

Underneath his blanket, wrapped so closely about him, stole a luminous
light. Before his stricken consciousness appeared a vision. Lo, his good
friend, the American woman to whom he had sent his messages by fire, now
stood there a legion! A vast multitude of women, with uplifted hands,
gazed upon a huge stone image. Their upturned faces were eager and very
earnest. The stone figure was that of a woman upon the brink of the
Great Waters, facing eastward. The myriad living hands remained uplifted
till the stone woman began to show signs of life. Very majestically she
turned around, and, lo, she smiled upon this great galaxy of American
women. She was the Statue of Liberty! It was she, who, though
representing human liberty, formerly turned her back upon the American
aborigine. Her face was aglow with compassion. Her eyes swept across the
outspread continent of America, the home of the red man.

At this moment her torch flamed brighter and whiter till its radiance
reached into the obscure and remote places of the land. Her light of
liberty penetrated Indian reservations. A loud shout of joy rose up from
the Indians of the earth, everywhere!

All too soon the picture was gone. Chief High Flier awoke. He lay
prostrate on the floor where during the night he had fallen. He rose and
took his seat again upon the mattress. Another day was ushered into his
life. In his heart lay the secret vision of hope born in the midnight of
his sorrows. It enabled him to serve his jail sentence with a mute
dignity which baffled those who saw him.