child of darkness. "Why, Mr. Gaylord, the banker—for they tell me that is who you are—I'm just saying that the Salisheutte Indians are not grasping like some white men. They have not learned to covet. They have been treated badly for so long, robbed of homes and hunting ground for so long, that they have a great sympathy for people deceived and despoiled and exploited as you have been. Therefore they give you back your homes."
"Give 'em back? How?" Gaylord seemed still not quite able to grasp the idea.
"Yes," affirmed the Reverend Jedediah. "They have decided to ask the Great Father at Washington to appoint a trustee for them—a man whom they trust very much and whom they are glad to see now that you have begun to trust again—a lawyer, a missionary of the human law, as I, in my humble way, am a missionary of the divine—Henry Harrington! He will act for them. When the proper power is given to him, he will confirm the titles of each of you."
"Without payment of any kind?" demanded Gaylord, incredulous to the last.
"Except in good will," smiled the Reverend Jedediah benevolently. "The Salisheuttes hope that the white men will treat them a little more as brothers hereafter." This hope was uttered modestly, appealingly.
"For nothing?" inquired the amazed citizens incredulously one of another.
"Why, that's not human nature!" echoed somebody right under the Reverend Jedediah's ear.
"It's Christian nature, my brother," he replied.
"It just shows you never can civilize an Indian!" complained Julius Hornblower in disgust.
