“We meet every year to honor the memory of the old heroes who rebelled and fought for liberty—­shed rivers of blood to escape from far less intolerable oppression and wrongs than the Injuns have endured for years.

“And then we expect them, with no culture and no Christianity, to practise Christian virtues, and endure buffetings that no Christian would endure.

“The whole Injun question is a satire on true Goverment, a lie in the name of liberty and equality, a shame on our civilization.”

“What would you do about it?” said the kinder good-lookin’ man.

Sez Krit, “If I called the Injuns wards, adopted children of the Goverment, I would try not to use them in a way that would disgrace any drunken old stepmother.

“I would have dignity enough, if I did not stand for decency, to not half starve and freeze them, and lie to them, and cheat them till the very word ‘Goverment’ means to them all they can picture of meanness and brutality.  I would either grant them independence, or a few of the comforts I had stolen from them.

“If I drove them out of their rich lands and well-stocked hunting-grounds they had so long considered their own—­if I drove them out in my cupidity and love of conquest, I would in return grant them enough of the fruits of their old homes to keep up life in their unhappy bodies.

“If I made them suffer the pains of exile, I would not let them endure also the gnawings of starvation.

“And I would not send out to ’em the Bible and whiskey packed in one wagon, appeals to Christian living and the sure means to overthrow it.

[Illustration:  “I would not send ’em Bibles and whiskey packed in one wagon.”]

“I would not send ’em religious tracts, implorin’ ’em to come to Christ’s kingdom, packed in the same hamper with kegs of brandy, which the Bible and the tracts teach that those that use it are cursed, and that no drunkard can inherit the kingdom.”

But, sez Krit, “The Bible they should have.  And after they had mastered its simplest teachings, they should don their war-paint and feathers, and go out with it in their hands as missionaries to the white race, to try to teach them its plainest and simplest doctrines, of justice, and mercy, and love.”

But at this very minute the cars tooted, and the two men seized their satchels, and after a sort of a short bow to Krit and the rest of us, they rushed offen the train.

I believe they wuz conscience-smut, but I don’t know.

[Illustration:  I believe they wuz conscience-smut, but I don’t know.]

When we arrove at the big depot at Chicago, the sun wuz jest a-drawin’ up his curtains of gorgeous red, and yeller, and crimson, and wuz a-retirin’ behind ’em to git a little needed rest.

The glorious counterpane wuz kinder heaped up in billowy richness on his western couch, but what I took to be the undersheet—­a clear long fold of shinin’ gold color—­lay straight and smooth on the bottom of the gorgeous bed.