CHAPTER XIII.
Before she had finished her writing Wayne and Worth came up on the porch.
The little boy had been over at the shops with his father.
"Father," he was saying, imagination under the stimulus of things he had been seeing, "I suppose our gun will kill 'bout forty thousand million folks--won't it, father ?" "Why no, son, I hope it's not going to be such a beastly gun as that," laughed Captain Jones.
"Yes, but, father, isn't a good gun a gun that kills folks?
What's the use making a gun at all if it isn't going to kill folks ?" His father looked at him strangely.

"Sonny," he said, "you're hitting home rather hard." "Your reasoning is poor, Worth," said Katie; "fact is we make guns to keep folks from getting killed.

If we didn't have the guns everybody would get killed.

Now don't say 'why.'" "'Cause you don't know why," calmly remarked Worth, adding: "I'll ask Watts, and if he don't know I'll ask the man that mends the boats." "Do," said Katie.
Having, to his own satisfaction, exterminated some forty thousand million members of the human family, Worth opened attack on the puppies.

He was an Indian and they were poor white settlers and he was going to kill them.