hat he felt "more
himself" than any softer speech would have made him.

"Well, go on! Do go on!"

"Alaric isn't half bad. I reckon I'd have died but for him. An old
Indian chief, of the Utes, White Feather Alaric called him--his
brother-in-law----"

"Oh! I'm well acquainted with him. Don't stop to tell that part, but
just do go on."

Jim stared and retorted:

"Oh! you are, eh? But I've got to tell about him 'cause it was he who
found me and brought me here. Picked me up on the road somewhere. I've
had a suspicion--just a suspicion, don't you know?--that Alaric wasn't
any too glad to see me. It's a mighty little house and he's a mighty
lazy man. But he had to do it. He's afraid of White Feather, though I
tell you, Dolly Doodles, he's a splendid Indian. If all red men were
like him----"

"I don't care at all about Indians. Go on."

"Alaric dressed my arm with leaves and stuff and fed me the best he
could, but after I'd got that basket sent to you with the lamb and the
stones--Did you get it? Did you understand?"

"Yes, I understood--part. I knew that only Jim Barlow could make such a
curious D as was on the stone and the basket. I supposed you were alive
somewhere and I tried to think you were all right. By the way, the
lambkin is thriving and we've named it after you--Netty!"

"What? Why Netty, if you please?"

Dorothy laughed and explained. She was ready now to laugh at anything
and so was he: she made him finish his story, which he promptly did.

After he had sent the basket-message he had grown worse. He was
delirious and did not know what went on about him. He thought it was
the bad water from the old tank that increased his fever, and was sure
it was that which had made the sheep herder himself fall ill. So before
his strength came back he had to turn nurse himself and attend upon
Alaric. He had now recovered enough to go away to his employer's ranch
for a few days. Meanwhile Jim was keeping the sheep for his host with
little Jose for company.

Dorothy listened, asking questions now and then, and finally inquired:

"Is this Alaric an Indian?"

"No. A Mexican, a Greaser. He married an Indian princess, the sister of
White Feather."

"How came you by that Indian rig? costume, I mean."

Jim laughed. "White Feather again. At first I hadn't anything to wear
but a ragged pair of trousers which Alaric lent me, though he hated to,
and a blanket for a coat. But a few days ago White Feather and his
braves