to be down in this part of Texas,
drop in and make us a visit!"

With every passing moment, Willock was realizing more keenly what this
amazing sequel to the past meant to him. He would not only have
company in his dreary solitude, but, of all company, the very one he
yearned for to comfort his heart. "Give us your paw, old man--shake.
You bet I'll take her!"

He strode forward and addressed the girl: "Are you willing to stay
with me, little one?"

She shrank back from the wild figure. During his two years of hiding
in the mountains, Willock had cared nothing for his personal
appearance. His garments, on disintegrating had been replaced by
skins, thus giving an aspect of assorted colors and materials rather
remarkable. Only when driven by necessity had he ventured on long
journeys to the nearest food-station, carrying the skins obtained by
trapping, and bringing back fresh stores of provisions and tobacco on
the pony purchased by the Spanish gold.

Willock was greatly disconcerted by her attitude. He said regretfully,
"I guess I've been so much with myself that I ain't noticed my outside
as a man ought. Won't you make your home with me, child?" He held out
his rough hand appealingly.

She retreated farther, saying with disapproval, "Much hair!"

Willock laid his hand on his breast, returning, "Much heart!"

"Him white," said the Indian, swinging himself upon his horse. "Him
save your life. Sometime me come visit, come eat, come stay with you."

As he wheeled about, she held out her arms toward him, crying wildly,
"Don't go! Don't leave me! Him much hair!"

The Indian dashed away without turning his head.

"Good lord, honey," exclaimed Willock, at his wits' ends, "don't cry!
I can't do nothing if you CRY. Won't you come look at your new home?"
He waved eagerly toward the dugout.

"Hole in the ground!" cried the girl desperately. "I want my tepee. Am
I a prairie-dog?"

"No, honey, you ain't. You and me is both white, and we ought to live
together; it ain't right for you to live with red people that kills and
burns your own kith and kin."

She looked at him repellently through her streaming tears. "Big hair!"
she cried. "Big hair!"

"And must I cut it off? I'll make my head as smooth as yonder
bald-headed mountain-peak if it'll keep you from crying. Course you
ain't seen nobody with whiskers amongst them Indians, but THEY ain't
your people. Your people is white, they are like me, they