ight, or something of that sort; but they don't need
much medicine!"

"And even if you did," said Lyster, addressing Overton, "I'm going to give
you fair warning you can't depend on 'Tana, unless you mend your ways. She
threatened to-day to leave us, if you allow the shadow of your anger to
fall on her again. So take heed, or she will swim back to Akkomi."

Overton looked at her sharply, and saw that back of Lyster's badinage
there was something of truth.

"You did?" he asked, reproachfully. "I did not know I had been so bad a
friend to you as that."

But no answer was made to him. She was ashamed, and she looked it. She was
also angry at Lyster, and he was made aware of it by a withering glance.

"Now _I'm_ in her bad books," he complained; "but it was only my fear of
losing her that urged me to give you warning. I hope she does not take
revenge by refusing me all the dances I am looking forward to to-night.
I'd like to get you, as her guardian, on my side, Overton."

The girl looked up, expectantly, and rested her slim fingers on the arms
of the two men.

"I could not be of much use, unless I had an invitation myself to the
dance," Dan remarked, dryly; "mine has evidently been delayed in the
mail."

"You don't like it?" said the girl, detecting the fact in his slight
change of tone. "You don't want me to go to dances?"

"What an idea!" exclaimed Lyster. "Of course, he is not going to spoil our
good time by objecting--are you, Dan? I never thought of that. You see,
you were away; but, of course, I fancied you would like it, too. I'll
write you out a flourishing request for your presence, if that's all."

"It isn't necessary; I'll be there, I reckon. But why should you think I
mean to keep you from jollifications?" he asked, looking kindly at 'Tana.
"Don't get the idea in your head that I'm a sort of 'Bad Man from Roaring
River,' who eats a man or so for breakfast every day, and all the little
girls he comes across. No, indeed! I'll whistle for you to dance any time;
so get on your war-paint and feathers when it pleases you."

The prospect seemed to please her, for she walked closer to him and looked
up at him with more content.

"Anyway, you ain't like Captain Leek," she decided. "He's the worst old
baby! Why, he just said all sorts of things about dances. Guess he must be
a heavy swell where he comes from, and where all the fandangoes are got up
in gilt-edged style. I'd like to spoil the gilt for him a li