"Name of Brick Willock, if you've forgot," interpolated Willock genially. "I'll just light my pipe, as I reckon there's no objections. Lahoma don't care, and you can breathe all right if you keep with the wind from you." The man turned his back upon Willock, opened his book and read. Lahoma approached the block of wood that supported him, while Willock calmly stretched himself out on the grass. "Is that a book?" she asked, by way of opening up the conversation. The man gripped it tighter and moved his lips busily. As she remained at his knee, he presently said, "Oh, no, it's a hand-organ!" Lahoma smiled pityingly. "Are you afraid of me, Atkins?" The man looked up with open mouth. "Not exactly, kid!" There was something in her face that made him lose interest in his book. He kept looking at her. "Then why don't you tell the truth? WE won't hurt you." The man opened his mouth and closed it. Then he said, "It's a book." "Did you ever read it before?" "This is the third time I've read it." "Seems as it hasn't accomplished no good on you, as you still tell lies." The man rose abruptly, and laid the book on the seat. His manner was quite as discouraging as it had been from the start. "Honey," interposed Willock, "that ain't to say a lie, not a real lie." "IS it a hand-organ?" Lahoma demanded sternly. "In a manner of speaking, honey, it is a hand-organ in the sense of shutting you off from asking questions. You learn to distinguish the sauces of speech as you gets older. Out in the big world, people don't say this or that according as it is, they steeps their words in a sauce as suits the digestion. Don't be so quick to call 'LIES!' till you learns the flavor of a fellow's meaning, not by his words but by the sauce he steeps 'em in." "Don't get mad at me," said Lahoma to the trapper. "I don't know nothing, never having captured and branded the thoughts that is caged up in books. But I want to be civilized and I am investigating according." The trapper, somewhat conciliated, reseated himself. He regarded the girl with greater interest, not without a certain approval. "How comes it that you aren't civilized, living with such a knowing specimen as your own father?" "My father's dead. Brick is my cousin, but I not knowing nothing of him till he saved my life two years ago and after that, me with the Indians and him all alone. Would you like to hear about it?" "I wouldn't bother him, honey, with all that long story," interposed Willock, suddenly grown restive. "Yes, tell me," said the trapper, moving over that she might find room on the block of wood beside him. Lahoma seated herself eagerly and looking up into the other's face, which softened more and more under her fearless gaze, she said: