ingly like you, as a child. I have just one picture of
you in my mind--standing on the edge of the pool, ready to dive, but
looking around at me and laughing. Felicia laughs just that way."

"Poor baby, coming all this way alone! But there seemed nothing else to
be done. We couldn't afford to go back for her nor could Aunt Mary come
on with her."

"She got along famously and made friends with every one," said Roger.
"Jove, isn't it wonderful, running on you people out here!"

"It's going to be wonderful for us, I know," returned Charley.

The wagon rumbled and bumped, and then Charley asked:

"Where is your camp to be?"

"We don't know, except we're to take up some government land adjacent to
yours. But your name isn't on our survey map."

"No, we have the old Ames claim," replied Charlotte. "You must plan to
stay with us until your camp is set up."

"You're very kind," said Roger.

"It's a God-send to have neighbors coming to us," the girl went on.

Roger made no reply and the road becoming unbelievably rough, Charley
gave her attention to holding Felicia on the seat and nothing more was
said until Preble called back,

"Careful through this gate, Moore! Wait till I get a light."

"We're home," said Charley. "Wake up, Felicia dear."

Dick appeared in a moment with a lighted candle stuck within and on the
side of an empty can. It threw a long finger of light on the gate posts
of a corral.

"We call those candle-lanterns, 'lightning bugs,' down here," explained
Charley. "'Bugs,' for short."

"I want one for myself," exclaimed Felicia, suddenly. "Only very small,
so's my doll can use it."

"You shall have a dozen if you want them, baby!" cried Dick, lifting her
down carefully over the wagon wheel.

The men unhitched and attended to the horses, then followed a short,
winding trail up to the lighted doorway. They entered a long, low room,
with adobe walls a muddy yellowish color. The floor was of rough plank
with a single Navajo blanket of gray and black before a little adobe
fireplace. There were half a dozen camp chairs in the room, a couch in a
corner, covered with a blue Indian rug, a homemade table in the middle,
several pelts and shelves of books in the walls and more books and an
alarm clock on the mantel shelf. It was a crude room, but one felt its
harmony of tone and homelike quality at once.

"Put your suit cases in here," said Dick, leading the way through an
open door into a candle-lighted r