“The question,” said John, “is whether or not you want her. So far as her keep is concerned, I reckon there’ll be plenty for us all, and if she’s going to be any help to you girls, we’d better let her come along.” “She certainly will be a help,” put in Alison. Neal laughed. “Little sis is speaking two words for herself and one for the gal, I reckon. I wouldn’t bother any too much about her, Miss Christine; she’ll likely be taken off your hands by some of the boys before long; there’s lots of ’em won’t mind the color of her hair.” Every one laughed and the question of Fidgetty Lou’s future was settled. She made her appearance the next morning under Neal’s escort, and was in high glee at having stolen a march on the later arrivals. “I’ll earn my keep, Mr. John,” she declared, “and I’ve clothes enough to last a year or two, so if you’ll jest let me go along with you I’ll ask for nothing. My father fit and died for Texas, and I always made up my mind I’d go and do likewise, if I could get here by hook or by crook.” “I didn’t know you remembered your father,” said Alison. “Didn’t say I did. My mother told me about his going to Texas when I was a baby, and that he got kilt by the Injuns. I was eight years old when she died, so I reckon I was old enough to take in what she said. I said then, and I say now, that I shan’t be satisfied till I get to the place he went, and I mean to go. Where my dad died I mean to die.” “Goodness!” exclaimed Alison, “don’t talk of dying first thing. For my part what I want is to live here. Now tell us, Lou, how you managed to get ahead of us.”