if Aunt Ri had been presented with a palace, she would not have been so well pleased. Already she had woven a rag carpet for herself, was at work on one for a neighbor, and had promised as many more as she could do before spring; the news of the arrival of a rag-carpet weaver having gone with despatch all through the lower walks of San Bernardino life. 'I wouldn't hev bleeved they hed so many rags besides what they're wearin',' said Aunt Ri, as sack after sack appeared at her door. Already, too, Aunt Ri had gathered up the threads of the village life; in her friendly, impressionable way she had come into relation with scores of people, and knew who was who, and what was what, and why, among them all, far better than many an old resident of the town. When she saw Benito galloping up to her door, she sprang down from her high stool at the loom, and ran bareheaded to the gate, and before Alessandro had dismounted, cried: 'Ye're jest the man I wanted; I've been tryin' to 'range it so's we could go down 'n' see yer, but Jeff couldn't leave the job he's got; an' I'm druv nigh abaout off my feet, 'n' I donno when we'd hev fetched it. How's all? Why didn't yer come in ther wagon 'n' fetch 'em 'long? I've got heaps ter tell yer. I allowed yer hadn't got the rights o' all them things. The Guvvermunt ain't on the side o' the thieves, as yer said. I knowed they couldn't be,' an' they've jest sent out a man a purpose to look after things fur yer,—to take keer o' the Injuns 'n' nothin' else. That's what he's here fur. He come last month; he's a reel nice man. I seen him 'n' talked with him a spell, last week; I'm gwine to make his wife a rag carpet. 'N' there's a doctor, too, to 'tend ter yer when ye're sick, 'n' the Guvvermunt pays him; yer don't hev to pay nothin'; 'n' I tell yeow, thet's a heap o' savin', to git yer docterin' fur nuthin'!' Aunt Ri was out of breath. Alessandro had not understood half she said. He looked about helplessly for Jos. Jos was away. In his broken English he tried to explain what Ramona had wished her to do. 'Doctor! Thet's jest what I'm tellin' yer! There is one here's paid by the Guvvermunt to 'tend to the Injuns thet's sick. I'll go 'n' show yer ter his house. I kin tell him jest how the baby is. P'r'aps he'll drive down 'n' see her!' Ah! if he would! What would Majella say, should she see him enter the door bringing a doctor! Luckily Jos returned in time to go with them to the doctor's house as interpreter. Alessandro was bewildered. He could not understand this new phase of affairs, Could it be true? As they walked along, he listened with trembling, half-incredulous hope to Jos's interpretation of Aunt Ri's voluble narrative. The doctor was in his office. To Aunt Ri's statement of Alessandro's errand he listened indifferently, and then said, 'Is he an Agency Indian?' 'A what?' exclaimed Aunt Ri. 'Does he belong to the Agency? Is his name on the Agency books?' 'No,' said she; 'he never heern uv any Agency till I wuz tellin' him, jest naow. We knoo him, him 'n' her, over 'n San Jacinto. He lives in Saboba. He's never been to San Bernardino sence the Agent come aout.' 'Well, is he going to put his name down on the books?' said the doctor, impatiently. 'You ought to have taken him to the Agent first.' 'Ain't you the Guvvermunt doctor for all Injuns?' asked Aunt Ri, wrathfully. 'Thet's what I heerd.' 'Well, my good woman, you hear a great deal, I expect, that isn't true;' and the doctor laughed coarsely but not ill-naturedly, Alessandro all the time studying his face with the scrutiny of one awaiting life and death; 'I am the Agency physician, and I suppose all the Indians will sooner or later come in and report themselves to the Agent; you'd better take this man over there. What does he want now?' Aunt Ri began to explain the baby's case. Cutting her short, the doctor said, 'Yes, yes, I understand. I'll give him something that will help her;' and going into an inner room, he brought out a bottle of dark-colored liquid, wrote a few lines of prescription, and handed it to Alessandro, saying, 'That will do her good, I guess.' 'Thanks, Senor, thanks,' said Alessandro. The doctor stared. 'That's the first Indian's said 'Thank you' in this office,' he said. 'You tell the Agent you've brought him a rara avis.' 'What's that, Jos?' said Aunt Ri, as they went out. 'Donno!' said Jos. 'I don't like thet man, anyhow, mammy. He's no good.' Alessandro looked at the bottle of medicine like one in a dream. Would it make the baby well? Had it indeed been given to him by that great Government in Washington? Was he to be protected now? Could this man, who had been sent out to take care of Indians, get back his San Pasquale farm for him? Alessandro's brain was in a whirl. From the doctor's office they went to the Agent's house. Here, Aunt Ri felt herself more at home. 'I've brought ye thet Injun I wuz tellin' ye uv,' she said, with a wave of her hand toward Alessandro. 'We've ben ter ther doctor's to git some metcen fur his baby. She's reel sick, I'm afeerd.' The Agent sat down at his desk, opened a large ledger, saying as he did so, 'The man's never been here before, has he?' 'No,' said Aunt Ri. 'What is his name?' Jos gave it, and the Agent began to write it in the book. 'Stop him.' cried Alessandro, agitatedly to Jos. 'Don't let him write, till I know what he puts my name in his book for!' 'Wait,' said Jos. 'He doesn't want you to write his name in that book. He wants to know what it's put there for.' Wheeling his chair with a look of suppressed impatience, yet trying to speak kindly, the Agent said: 'There's no making these Indians understand anything. They seem to think if I have their names in my book, it gives me some power over them.' 'Wall, don't it?' said the direct-minded Aunt Ri. 'Hain't yer got any power over 'em? If yer hain't got it over them, who have yer got it over? What yer goin' to do for 'em?' The Agent laughed in spite of himself. 'Well, Aunt Ri,'—she was already 'Aunt Ri' to the Agent's boys,—'that's just the trouble with this Agency. It is very different from what it would be if I had all my Indians on a reservation.' Alessandro understood the words 'my Indians.' He had heard them before. 'What does he mean by his Indians, Jos?' he asked fiercely. 'I will not have my name in his book if it makes me his.' When Jos reluctantly interpreted this, the Agent lost his temper. 'That's all the use there is trying to do anything with them! Let him go, then, if he doesn't want any help from the Government!' 'Oh, no, no.' cried Aunt Ri. 'Yeow jest explain it to Jos, an' he'll make him understand.' Alessandro's face had darkened. All this seemed to him exceedingly suspicious. Could it be possible that Aunt Ri and Jos, the first whites except Mr. Hartsel he had ever trusted, were deceiving him? No; that was impossible. But they themselves might be deceived. That they were simple and ignorant, Alessandro well knew. 'Let us go!' he said. 'I do not wish to sign any paper.' 'Naow don't be a fool, will yeow? Yeow ain't signin'
