For such of us as pretend to be wise—and we are but fools in a lesser degree—we know that humanity moves onward only by the impellant of fine dreams. CHAPTER XXXI. " "Who are you!" demanded the fugitive, sternly. People were not slaves to their gods as they are now, oppressed and unhappy, chained to their mortality and suffering so that they may one day enter an imaginary Heaven. There were white men with families, a fine mission-house, and a club-house for cards and billiards. "Much that I would willingly forget.
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