When the Indians came to know us better, they came to the house quite freely. They would open the door without rapping, peek in, then sidle around the wall, slipping along as noiselessly as cats in their moccasin feet, and would crouch in front of the fire, never saying a word. When Mother got tired of seeing them there, she would put something on a plate for them to eat. When it was finished, and it always was to the last crumb, slip, slip, slip to the door and they were gone again, as silently as they had entered. There was always an iron kettle of water hanging on a crane over the fire. Mother saw to it that it was always full and ready. As soon as the Indian was gone the place where he had sat was thoughly scalded. Anyone who knows about such things will know that it was a wise precaution. They were all of them alive with creeping things, so distasteful that one even hesitates to name them Walt Davies Monmouth, OR