there as if he'd grabbed it under a preemption law and didn't live
there." With this hint at certain speculations of Father Wynn in public
lands for a homestead, he added that "If they [Brace and Wynn] could
bring him along any older American settler than an Indian, they
might rake down his [Dunn's] pile." Unprepared for this turn in the
conversation, Wynn hastened to explain that he did not refer to the pure
aborigine, whose gradual extinction no one regretted more than himself,
but to the mongrel, who inherited only the vices of civilization. "There
should be a law, sir, against the mingling of races. There are men, sir,
who violate the laws of the Most High by living with Indian women--squaw
men, sir, as they are called."

Dunn rose with a face livid with weakness and passion. "Who dares say
that? They are a d--d sight better than sneaking Northern Abolitionists,
who married their daughters to buck niggers like--" But a spasm of pain
withheld this Parthian shot at the politics of his two companions, and
he sank back helplessly in his chair.

An awkward silence ensued. The three men looked at each other in
embarrassment and confusion. Dunn felt that he had given way to a
gratuitous passion; Wynn had a vague presentiment that he had said
something that imperiled his daughter's prospects; and Brace was divided
between an angry retort and the secret purpose already alluded to.

"It's all the blasted heat," said Dunn, with a forced smile, pushing
away the whisky which Wynn had ostentatiously placed before him.

"Of course," said Wynn hastily; "only it's a pity Nellie ain't here to
give you her smelling-salts. She ought to be back now," he added, no
longer mindful of Brace's presence; "the coach is over-due now, though I