"I am glad to hear that you do not look upon me as an outlaw or--" "Lord bless you," cried Striker, "there ain't nobody as would take you fer an outlaw. You ain't cut out fer a renegade. We know 'em the minute we lay eyes on 'em. Same as we know a Pottawatomy Injin from a Shawnee, er a jack-knife from a Bowie. No, there ain't no doubt in my mind about you bein' your father's son--an' heir, as the sayin' goes. If you turn out to be a scalawag, I'll never trust my eyes ag'in." The young man laughed. "In any case, you are very good to have taken me in for the night, and I shall not forget your trust or your hospitality. Wolves go about in sheep's clothing, you see, and the smartest of men are sometimes fooled." He turned abruptly to the girl. "Did you know my father, too?" She started violently and for the moment was speechless, a curious expression in her eyes. "Yes," she said, at last, looking straight at him: "Yes, I knew your father very well." "Then, you must have lived in these parts longer than I have suspected," said he. "I should have said you were a newcomer." Mrs. Striker made a great clatter of pans and skillets at the stove. The girl waited until this kindly noise subsided. "I have lived in this neighbourhood since I was eight years old," she said, quietly. Striker hastened to add: "Somethin' like ten or 'leven years,--'leven, I reckon, ain't it?" "Eleven years," she replied. Gwynne was secretly astonished and rather skeptical. He would have taken oath that she was twenty-two or -three years old, and not nineteen as computation made her. "She ain't lived here all the time," volunteered Eliza, somewhat defensively. "She was to school in St. Louis fer two or three years an'--" The young lady interrupted the speaker coldly. "Please, Eliza!" Eliza, looking considerably crestfallen, accepted the rebuke meekly. "I jest thought he'd be interested," she murmured. "She came up the Wabash when she was nothin' but a striplin'," began Striker, not profiting by his wife's experience. He might have gone on at considerable length if he had not met the reproving, violet eye. He changed the subject hastily. "As I was sayin', we've had a powerful lot o' rain lately. Why, by gosh, last week you could have went fishin' in our pertato patch up yander an' got a mess o' sunfish in less'n no time. I never knowed the Wabash to be on setch a rampage. An' as fer the Wild Cat Crick and Tippecanoe River, why, they tell me there ain't been anything like--How's that?" "Is Wabash an Indian name?" repeated Kenneth. "That's what they say. Named after a tribe that used to hunt an' fish up an' down her, they say."