y blood."

"But _who_ is he?" queried Ruth, curiously.

"Why, he's a puncher that works for----Well, he's a cow puncher.
That's 'nuff. It don't matter where he works," added the girl,
gruffly.

"That might give away where you come from, eh?" put in Mercy.

"It might," and Nita laughed.

"But what is your name?" asked Ruth.

"Nita, I tell you."

"Nita what?"

"Never mind. Just Nita. Mebbe I never had another name. Isn't one name
at a time sufficient, Miss?"

"I don't believe that is your really-truly name," said Ruth, gravely.

"I bet you're right, Ruth Fielding!" cried Heavy, chuckling.
"'Nita' and 'Jib Pottoway' don't seem to go together. 'Nita' is
altogether too fancy."

"It's a nice name!" exclaimed the strange girl, in some anger. "It
was the name of the girl in the paper-covered novel--and it's good
enough for me."

"But what's your real name?" urged Ruth.

"I'm not telling you that," replied the runaway, shortly.

"Then you prefer to go under a false name--even among your friends?"
asked the girl from the Red Mill.

"How do I know you're my friends?" demanded Nita, promptly.

"We can't very well be your enemies," said Helen, in some disgust.

"I don't know. Anybody's my enemy who wants to send me back--well,
anyone who wants to return me to the place I came from."

"Was it an institution?" asked Mary Cox quickly.

"What's that?" demanded Nita, puzzled. "What do you mean by an
'institution'?"

"She means a sort of school," explained Ruth.

"Yes!" exclaimed The Fox, sharply. "A reform school, or something of
the kind. Maybe an almshouse."

"Never heard of 'em," returned Nita, unruffled by the insinuation.
"Guess they don't have 'em where I come from. Did _you_ go to one,
Miss?"

Heavy giggled, and Madge Steele rapped The Fox smartly on the shoulder.
"There!" said the senior. "It serves you right, Mary Cox. You're
answered."

"Now, I tell you what it is!" cried the strange girl, sitting up in bed
again and looking rather flushed, "if you girls are going to nag me,
and bother me about who I am, and where I come from, and what my name
is--though Nita's a good enough name for anybody----"

"Anybody but Jib Pottoway," chuckled Heavy.

"Well! and _he_ warn't so bad, if he _was_ half Injun," snapped the
runaway. "Well, anyway, if you don't leave me alone I'll get out of
bed right now and walk out of here. I guess you haven't any hold on me."

"Better wait till your clothes are dry," sug