n you depended on Indians for anything. She did wish
there was a white man to be had. She asked after Marthy and Jase and
gave Billy Louise no opportunity to tell her anything.

Billy Louise glanced often at the man, who did not look in the least as
she had fancied, except that he really did have a high nose and
terribly keen eyes with something behind the keenness that baffled her.
And his mouth was pleasant, especially when that smile hid just behind
his lips; also, she liked his hair, which was thick and brown, with
hints of red in it here and there, and a strong inclination to curl
where it was longest. She had known he was tall when he stepped into
the light of the door; now she saw that he was slim to the point of
leanness, with square shoulders and a nervous quickness when he moved.
His fingers were never idle; when he was not eating, he rolled bits of
biscuit into tiny, soggy balls beside his plate, or played a soft
tattoo with his fork.

"I didn't quite catch your name, mister," her mother said finally.
"But take another biscuit, anyway."

"Warren is my name," returned the man, with that hidden smile because
she had never before given him any opportunity to tell it. "Ward
Warren. I've got a claim over on Mill Creek."

Billy Louise gave a little gasp and distractedly poured two spoons of
sugar in her tea, although she hated it sweetened.

I've got to tell you why, even at the price of digression. Long ago,
when Billy Louise was twelve or so, and lived largely in a dream world
of her own with Minervy for her "pretend" playmate, she had one day
chanced upon a paragraph in a paper that had come from town wrapped
around a package of matches. It was all about Ward Warren. The name
caught her fancy, and the text of the paragraph seized upon her
imagination. Until school filled her mind with other things, she had
built adventures without end in which Ward Warren was the central
figure. Up the canyon at the caves, she sometimes pretended that Ward
Warren had abducted Minervy and that she must lead the rescue.
Sometimes, when she rode in the hills, Ward Warren abducted her and led
her into strange places where she tried to shiver in honest dread.
Often and often, however, Ward Warren was a fugitive who came to her
for help; then she would take him to Minervy's cave and hide him,
perhaps; or she would mount her horse and lead him, by devious ways, to
safety, and upon some hilltop from which she could point