Still Tabitha made no reply, but lay as she had fallen, not daring to
trust her ears or believe her eyes--it was not unusual for anyone to
make friendly advances toward her, though she had longed all her lonely
little life for a playmate. Why, it couldn't be possible! They were on
the desert now in a forlorn little mining town located in a hollow
between two mountain ranges and straggling over a vast area of barren,
rocky hills, with not a tree in sight anywhere, except the ugly,
uncompromising yuccas, and they could scarcely be dignified by the name
of trees. Nothing but sagebrush, greasewood, mesquite and cactus; not
even a sprill of grass!

To poor homesick Tabitha it seemed as if they had dropped off the earth
into nowhere. She had never seen such a place in all her life, nor even
dreamed that towns like that existed. Wherever they had gone heretofore,
there had always been trees and flowers, which in a measure took the
place of the friends she had never known but always missed. Now there
was not even to be this solace; how could there be any friends?

So she remained silent and the little blue-eyed girl was puzzled, almost
frightened. Then a bright idea came to her.

"Are you an Indian?" she asked timidly, wondering if she had better run,
supposing the black-eyed child should prove to be the daughter of a
redman.

"No, I ain't an Indian!" Tabitha bounced on the ground with a startling
suddenness that froze the other child in her tracks.

Poor Tabitha! Tormented ever since she could remember because of her
unfortunate name, and now to be called an Indian! She had sprung to her
feet with fists clenched and eyes blazing, yet somehow she seemed to
understand that this plump little body was different from the teasing
children who had made the days miserable for her wherever she went, and
she could not strike the avenging blow. But the insult, unintentional as
it evidently was, rankled bitterly nevertheless; and dropping to the
ground again, she hid her face in her faded skirts.

Instantly two soft arms slipped around her and she heard the gentle
voice saying sorrowfully, "Oh, please don't cry, little girl! I didn't
mean to make you mad. Of course you aren't an Indian, 'cause your hair
curls some, and Indians have awful straight, stiff hair, and they are
redder than you are. I guess you've lived on the desert until you are
real brown."

"I never lived on the desert before, and I hate it, hate it, hate it!
Almo