and Lana turn thither; and we followed them.

Coming up to see who was making such scare-crow music, Lana said in a low voice to us:

“It’s an old, old man — more than a hundred years old, he tells us — who has lived on the Ouleout undisturbed among the Indians until yesterday, when we burnt the village. And now he has come to us for food and protection. Is it not pitiful?”

I had a hard dollar in my pouch, and went to him and offered it. Boyd had Continental money, and gave him a handful.

He was not very feeble, this ancient creature, yet, except among Indians who live sometimes for more than a hundred years, I think I never before saw such an aged visage, all cracked into a thousand