“Come out for a while,” cried Kent.

“I can’t.  I’ve got company.  Come on up and get warm,” returned Lydia.

The two boys slipped off their skates and came up to the cottage.  Kent needed no introduction, and Lydia made short work of Charlie by saying to the assemblage at large, “This is Charlie Jackson.  Come on up by the stove, boys.”

The boys established themselves on the couch back of the baseburner.

“Hello, Marg,” said Kent.  “What you doing?”

“Paper dolls,” returned Margery from her corner, without looking up.  Charlie Jackson stared at the beautiful little black head bent over the bright colored bits of paper with interest.

Amos took up the interrupted conversation.  “If we could get a Republican Congress, that block o’ pine and black loam twenty miles north would be given to its rightful owners.”

“Meaning the full bloods, I suppose,” said Levine with a short laugh.

“Yes—­full blooded whites,” returned Amos.

Charlie Jackson suddenly threw back his head and rose.

“I’m a full blood Indian,” he said, quietly.  The three men looked at him as if they saw him for the first time.

“Well, what of it?” asked Marshall, shortly.

“This of it,” said Charlie, tensely, “that you whites with your Constitution and your Declaration of Independence are a lot of liars and thieves.”

Marshall turned purple, but John Levine spoke quickly.  “Easy there, my boy!  You’re talking of things you don’t understand.”

“Oh, but he does,” interrupted Lydia eagerly. “’Governments derive their just powers from the consent of the governed.’  We had it in school.  It must mean Indians too.”

John Levine laughed.  “There you have it.  And Charlie is right, we are liars and thieves, but we have to be.  Might is right in this world.”

“Speak for yourself, Levine,” cried Marshall.

“Levine!” exploded Charlie.  “Are you Levine?  You’re the man then that my sister—­” his voice rose to a shout.  “I’ll beat the face off of you right now.”

And he made a sudden spring for the astonished Levine.

CHAPTER VII

THE REPUBLICAN CANDIDATE

“Nature counts no day as wasted.”—­The Murmuring Pine.

Amos and Kent caught Charlie by either arm as his hands clutched for Levine’s throat.  Marshall did not stir out of his chair.  During the remainder of the episode his face wore a complacent expression that, though Lydia did not consciously observe it at the time, returned to her in after years with peculiar significance.

“Here!  Here!  This won’t do, my young Indian!” cried Amos.

“Let me get at him!” panted Charlie.

Lydia moved away from Lizzie and Margery.  The three had automatically jumped to grab Adam’s collar for Adam always assisted in a fight, human or otherwise.  She ran over to the Indian.