ain, saw father and sister suddenly turn from the landing to look
and point toward the coulee. Glancing that way, too, she saw the object
of their interest. Over the brink into sight was toiling a strange
figure, bent and almost hidden under an unwieldy load.

She moved aside in some trepidation to await the creature's advance.
Upon its back, as it tottered along, was a score of pots and pans, tied
together, and topped by a sack of buffalo-chips that, at each slow step,
rolled first to one hand and then to the other. Yet with all the
difficulty of balancing the fuel-sack and preventing its falling to the
ground, the straggler did not fail to keep in place a drab
face-covering.

The mules stood perfectly quiet until the figure was near. Then they
became uneasy for the second time, and shied back upon the plow,
tangling their harness.

The effect of this was startling. The sack of chips came tumbling off
the pots and pans, spilling upon the roadway. The tin things followed
with a crash. And, with a grunt, the bent figure retreated a few steps
and uncovered its face.

In very amazement Dallas let go the mules. The creature facing her was
young and pitifully thin. About a face dripping with perspiration fell a
mop of tangled hair. Under a tattered mourning blanket, a bulging calico
waist disclosed, through many rents, a lean and bony chest. And below
the leather strap that belted both the sombre blanket and the waist,
hung limply the shreds of a fringed buckskin petticoat. The straggler
was an Indian--a male--yet, despite his sex, he wore, not a brave's
dress, but the filthy, degrading garb of a squaw!

He watched Dallas with cowed, questioning eyes, strangely soft and
un-Indian in their expression. After a moment, seeing that he was ill,
as well as unarmed, she ceased to feel afraid of him.

"How," she said, in greeting.

He made no reply, only continued to watch her steadily.

"How," she repeated, and smiled.

His eyes instantly brightened.

"You sick?" she asked, moving her head sorrowfully in pantomime.

For answer, he shambled closer and held up first one naked foot and then
the other, like a suffering hound. Dallas saw that they were sore from
stone bruises and bleeding from cactus wounds.

"Oh, you're hurt!" she cried.

The Indian nodded, and at once made her a dumb appeal. Lowering himself
stiffly until he was seated upon the dead grass before her, he pointed
eloquently into his wide-open mouth.

D