written to him personally, but understanding the situation, did not complain.

When he entered the kitchen he found the family and White Buffalo assembled around the table. Placing the letter on a shelf he slipped into his own seat. A moment of silence followed, and then Joseph Morris offered a humble prayer and gave thanks to God for the food of which they were about to partake. During this White Buffalo sat as motionless as a statue, nor did he speak a word while the food was handed around. He ate from the bench, and if he wanted a thing took it, otherwise he simply motioned it away.

The meal over, Joseph Morris brought forth some of his best tobacco and filled a new clay pipe, one of the red variety with a long stem. He took a few puffs, then handed the pipe to White Buffalo who did the same. Then the Indian produced his own pipe and went through the same performance. After this both smoked freely, and the tongue of White Buffalo loosened readily.

“I have seen many places which were fair to look upon, but none more fair than Ella Dell,” said he. “In days to come the spot will bring many doubloons to the pockets of the Morrises. The game love the spot, the deer and the fish cannot stay away from it, and the river makes sweet music as it passes it by.”

“Yes, my brother told us of it before,” answered Joseph Morris. “It was continually in his mind. I sincerely trust we can make our title good to it. But what do you know of the French around there?”

At this the brow of White Buffalo clouded. “The French are not my friends, nor are they the friends of the English who have gone toward the setting sun. The French would keep that fair land for themselves, and send away both the English and the Indians. Sooner or later there will be war because of this.”

“War!” cried Dave.

The Indian nodded gravely. “The French and the English are at peace, but when they buried the hatchet many moons ago none of the great warriors spoke of the lands between here and the Father of Waters,” he went on, meaning by Father of Waters the Mississippi River. “I have heard the story from White Thunder, and also from Tanacharisson, the Half-king. The French have sailed upon the Father of Waters and claim all the lands which drain therein; the English claim this land because of a treaty made many winters ago with the Iroquois. And the Indian who lives upon the land, what of him, with his squaw and his pappoose? If the French or the English take the land he will have nothing, and he and 

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