Wilfred chose as the topic to engage Lahoma's mind, the future of Oklahoma Territory. The theme filled him with enthusiasm such as no long-settled commonwealth is able to inspire, and though Lahoma considered herself a Texan, she was able to enter into his spirit from having always lived at the margin of the new country. Wilfred dwelt on the day when Oklahoma would no longer be represented in congress by a delegate without the right to vote, but would take its place as a state whose constitution should be something new and inspiring in the history of civil documents. Wilfred meant to have a part in the framing of that constitution and as he outlined some of his theories of government, Lahoma listened with quick sympathy and appreciation. A new feeling for him, something like admiration, something like pride, stirred within her. Here was a man who meant to do things, things eminently worth a man's time and strength; and yet, for all his high purposes, there was no look, no tone, to indicate that he held himself at a higher valuation than those for whom he meant to labor. As in time of stress the strongest man is given the heaviest burden, so he seemed to take to himself a leading part in the future of his country that all who dwelt within its borders might find it a freer, a richer, a better country because of him. "You'll call me ambitious," said Wilfred, glowing. "Well, I am. You'll accuse me of wanting power. So I do!" Her eyes flashed. "And I'm ambitious for you!" she cried. "Go ahead and get power. Take the earth! Don't stop till you reach the sea--that's the spirit of the West. But how did you ever think of these things?" "During my long winters on my quarter-section, nobody in sight--just the prairie and me. Nothing else to think about except the country that's new-born. So I studied out a good many things, just thinking about Oklahoma and--and--" Lahoma said softly, "I KNEW there was SOMETHING ELSE you thought about." "Yes," exclaimed Wilfred, thrilled. "Yes--there WAS something else!" "A little girl, I guess," murmured Lahoma gently, with a touch of compassion in her tone. "You've guessed it, Lahoma--yes, the dearest little girl in the world." "I wish she could have cared for you--THAT way--like your voice sounds," murmured Lahoma. "Maybe she can," Wilfred's voice grew firmer. "Yes--she MUST!" "Have you found a gold-mine?" "What are you talking about, Lahoma? What has a gold-mine to do with it?" "Because nothing else goes," returned Lahoma decisively. "You might get single statehood for Oklahoma, and write the constitution yourself, and be elected governor--but you'd look just the same to Annabel, unless you had a gold-mine." Wilfred gave a jerk at his bridle. "Who's talking about Annabel?" he cried rather sharply. He had forgotten that there was an Annabel. "Everybody is," returned Lahoma, somewhat sharply on her own account, "everybody is, or ought to be!"