ion to draw away.

He looked up with a great sigh of thanksgiving. "Well, God," he said
softly, "here she is--You sure done it!"

CHAPTER VIII

GETTING CIVILIZED

During the two years passed by Brick Willock in dreary solitude,
conditions about him had changed. The hardships of pioneer life which,
fifty years ago, had obtained in the Middle States yet prevailed, in
1882, in the tract of land claimed by Texas under the name of Greer
County; but the dangers of pioneer life were greatly lessened. As
Lahoma made the acquaintance of the mountain-range, and explored the
plain extending beyond the natural horseshoe, Willock believed she ran
little danger from Indians. He, himself, had ceased to preserve his
unrelaxing watchfulness; after all, it had been the highwaymen rather
than the red men whom he had most feared--and after two years it did
not seem likely that such volatile men would pre serve the feeling of
vengeance.

With the wisdom derived from his experience with wild natures, he
carefully abstained from any attempt to force Lahoma's friendship,
hence it was not long before he obtained it without reserve. As she
walked beside him, grave and alert, she no longer thought of his bushy
beard and prodigious mop of harsh hair; and the daily exhibition of his
strength caused him to grow handsome in her eyes because most of those
feats were performed for her comfort or pleasure. In the meantime he
talked incessantly, and to his admiration, he presently found her
manner of speech wonderfully like his own, both fluent and
ungrammatical.

He knew nothing of grammar, to be sure, but there were times when his
mistakes, echoed from her lips, struck upon his ear, and though he
might not always know how to correct them, he was prompt to suggest
changes, testing each, as a natural musician judges music, by ear.
Dissatisfied with his own standards, he was all the more impatient to
depart on the expedition after mental tools, despite the dangers that
might beset the journey.

His first task prompted by the coming of Lahoma, had been to partition
off the half of the dugout containing the stove for the child's private
chamber. Cedar posts set in the ground and plastered with mud higher
than his head, left a space between the top and the apex of the ceiling
that the temperature might be equalized in both rooms. Thus far,
however, they did not stay in the dugout except long enough to eat and
sleep, for the autumn had c