'It is an Indian!' cried Theo, surprised and interested, though certainly not a hostile one, for his gun was slung across his back and he had one hand upheld in greeting. His long hair was twisted on top of his head and skewered with an eagle feather, but his dress was the conventional fringed buckskin suit of the backwoodsman. He wore beaded moccasins, but she had seen those, too, on many white men out West. His copper-red face was unpainted and serene.

He advanced quietly down the lawn, ignoring the scared black faces that peered at him from around the corner of the house.

'Ciel—sauvez-vous, Madame!'screamed Eleanore, tugging at Theo's arm.

'Certainly not,' said Theo impatiently. 'Stop making such a fuss. I cannot imagine what he wants, but he has a good face.'

The Indian now mounted the steps toward Theo, and Eleanore gave a stifled gasp and fled.

' What do you want?' Theo stood still, staring into the impassive dark eyes that, now that he had gained the porch, were a foot above hers.

'You Mrs. Alston?'

She nodded, puzzled.

He silently slid his hand into his leather jacket, took from it a letter, and held it out to her.

It was inscribed, 'Mrs. Theodosia Burr Alston,' in an unfamiliar handwriting. She made no move to take it. Her brain darted over a score of possibilities. It must be something to do with Aaron, of course. This peculiar messenger might have come from one of his remaining supporters out West: but it could be some kind of trap. Devious and many had been the instruments of his persecution already; this might be a new device.

' Where do you come from?' she asked, temporizing.

The Indian held the letter rigidly out in front of him.

'From setting sun, beyond Great River,' he answered.

' And how did you get here?'

'Follow trail over plains and mountains. One moon since.'

'Ask him his name, Mama'. A small excited voice from behind her betrayed that Gampy, unable to bear the suspense any longer, had crept out on the porch and was staring at the Indian in openmouthed fascination.

The Indian turned his head a fraction, and a faint smile softened the grimness of his face as he saw the boy. He touched his breast. 'Wabasha. Me Sioux Chief.'

'Then what in Heaven's name can a Sioux Chief want with me?' she cried, half to herself.

' Read——' He indicated the letter. She took it from him now, still wary.

The Sioux folded his arms against his chest and stared, expressionless, out over the lawn.

Theo broke the red seal, noting with increased disquiet that it had been impressed with a governmental insignia. She saw the date, 'St. Louis, September first, 1809,' and then she knew: knew before she turned the closely written sheets, and saw at the bottom, the signature, 'Merne.'