“Time enough to go there to-morrow or next day,” replied Adam. “You see, ma’am, I’m not alone. I’ve a young girl with me. We’re from the desert. And I want her to have some--some decent clothes before I take her where there are people.” The woman laughed pleasantly. “Your daughter?” she asked, with interest. “No relation,” replied Adam. “I--I was a friend of her mother, who died out on the desert.” “Stranger, you’re welcome to my house overnight.” “Thank you, but I’d rather not trouble you. We’ll be very comfortable. It’s a nice place to camp.” “Come far?” asked the woman, whose honest blue eyes were taking stock of Adam. “Yes, far for Genie. We’ve been about ten days coming over the mountains.” “Reckon you’d like some milk and eggs for supper?” “Well, now, ma’am, if you only knew how I would like some,” returned Adam, heartily. “And poor Genie, who has fared so long on desert grub, she’d surely appreciate your kindness.” “I’ll fetch some over, or send it by my boy,” she said. Adam returned thoughtfully to the little grove where he had elected to camp. This woman’s kindness, the glint of sympathy in her eyes, brought him up short with the certitude that they were the very virtues he was looking for in the person to whom he intended to trust Genie. It behooved him from now on to go keenly at the task of finding that person. It would not be easy. For the present he meant to hide any hint of Genie’s small fortune, and had cautioned her to that end. Genie appeared tired and glad to sit on the green grassy bank. “I’ll help--in a little while,” she said. “Isn’t this a pretty place? Oh, the grass feels so cool and smells so sweet!... Wanny, who’d you see at the house?” “Some youngsters and a nice woman,” replied Adam. It was on his tongue to tell Genie about the milk and eggs for supper, but in the interest of a surprise he kept silent. Sunset had passed when Adam got the packs spread, the fire built, and supper under way. At length the supper appeared to be about ready, except for the milk and eggs that had been promised. Adam set the pot and pan aside at the edge of the fire, and went off in search of some wood that would be needed later. He packed a big log of dead oak back to camp, bending under its weight. When he looked up he saw a handsome, stalwart lad, bareheaded and in shirt sleeves, standing just beyond the fire, holding out with brown muscular arms a big pan of milk. The milk was spilling over the edges. And on one of his fingers hung a small bucket full of eggs. He had to balance himself carefully while he stooped to deposit the bucket of eggs on the ground. “Hey, Johnnie, where’ll I put the milk?” he called, cheerily. Adam was astounded, and suddenly tickled to see Genie trying to hide behind one of the packs. She succeeded in hiding all but her head, which at the moment wore an old cap that made her look more than ever like a boy. “My name’s not Johnnie,” she flashed, with spirit.