it is?” Marion asked. “What a pity there is no one to take the missionary’s place and continue his work.”
“Oh, there will be some one ready to come, never fear,” the sergeant replied. “I shall notify the Bishop and most likely he will send a man here. We need not worry about that just now. The Indians will remain loyal, I feel quite certain. They have been taught a severe lesson.”
All through the day Hugo had been very quiet, speaking seldom, and apparently wrapped in serious thought. But that night as they all gathered around the stove, he filled, lighted his pipe, and looked upon the little group.
“I suppose this will be the last night we shall spend together for some time,” he began. “Zell will marry Tim and live outside, so her lot in life will be settled. The doctor will still carry on his good work among the needy, and will win more jewels in his crown. Rolfe will develop into a full-fledged poet. Not likely he hears what I am saying, as he is so busy writing—a masterpiece, no doubt. Now, that leaves three of us, and what are we to do?”
“Two will get married as soon as they can, if I am not mistaken,” the doctor replied with a twinkle in his eye.
“Oh, not for some time yet,” Marion declared. “At least, not until John leaves the Force.”
“And when will that be?” Hugo enquired.
“Next May,” the sergeant replied. “My time will be up then, and I am going to leave. I am getting tired of this roving life, and have been at it too long already. I should have left years ago.”
“Next May, eh? Well, that will suit fine,” and
