Someone had covered him over with a finely woven old Navaho rug. In pushing it off he noticed a fresh bandage on his wounded hand and the arm above. Under the cloth was an aromatic resinous salve. He next discovered that his boots and socks had been taken off and his badly blistered feet washed and treated with a healing powder. He sat up on the side of the bedstead. Before him stood a chair draped with a towel and a change of coarse, but clean clothes. On the clean-swept floor were a pair of soft moccasins, a dishpan, a bar of soap, and a large jar of water. When he limped out of his bedroom he had "tubbed" himself as thoroughly as an Englishman and felt as ravenous as a wolf. Elsie was alone in the living room, deftly handling pots and pans on the charcoal brazier. "Good morning," he hailed. "Glad I'm just in time for breakfast." The girl upturned her wide blue eyes to him in a look of shy delight. "I heard you splashing about and I hustled," she replied. "But it's not breakfast--it's dinner." "So early as this?" "So late! You've slept all the rest of yesterday and all night and all morning. I thought you'd never wake. Sit down." "How about the others?" "Oh, Dad just nibbles when he has his tizwin spells, and Mena ate hers mid-morning." The table top had been scrubbed. Lennon sat down at the nearest corner and fell to on the omelette and fried chicken, cream cheese, salad, cornbread and honey that she set before him. The food was all served in bowls and jugs of quaintly beautiful ancient cliff-dweller pottery. "There's no cream for your coffee," the girl apologized. "The milk soured. Mena was asleep, and I dassn't go down to the goats alone. Cochise has come back with all the bunch. Dad was cross not to get cream. He's cranky over his food." "You say those red devils are all down there?" The girl cringed. "Don't--don't speak so loud. Cochise might hear you. He's stopped swearing. I lowered a whole basketful of pies to them. Carmena is getting ready to give him a big talking to. She--she won't let them get us." "That's good news," rallied Lennon. For the first time he was able to look away from his food long enough to notice that Elsie was wearing a fresh pretty frock of blue-dotted calico. He smiled at her amusedly. "Didn't you promise to be a sister to me--or something like that? Why not sit down with me and celebrate our escape?" The girl clasped her hands together in childlike delight. "Oh, do you want me to be, really and truly? Only I don't know how to act to a brother. Sisters are different. They kiss each other--sometimes. If you don't mind, I'll just sit and watch. I had mine with Mena." With unconscious grace, she perched on the edge of the table. "You eat ever so much nicer than Cochise." "I should hope so--a wild Indian!"