the forehead, the faint, regular breathing showed she was asleep.

The son smiled.

"Good! The best mother that ever lived! Heavenly Father, watch over
her and spare her for many years. Watch over us all."

He looked across at Omas, on the other side of the camp fire, and
saw the Delaware gazing fixedly at him.

He arose as silently as a shadow and stepped nearer, peering down
on the pale, handsome face with its closed eyes.

"She sleep?" asked the Indian.

"Yes," replied Ben, softly, with a nod of his head.

He looked at her a moment and then across to the other blanket,
where the round, chubby cheeks of the little girls reflected the
firelight. He waited a moment, and then the gentler side of his
nature triumphed. He bent over the forms, kissed each in turn,
straightened up, and pointing to the eastward, said to Ben--"Go
dat way--you safe--goodbye."

"Goodbye," replied the lad, knowing it was useless to protest.

Like the gliding of the shadow of a cloud, the Delaware passed beyond
the circle of light thrown out by the fire into the deep gloom of
the wood. The moccasins pressed the dry leaves without giving back
any sound, and he vanished.