had been pinned down, she would probably have admitted that she
expected to behold an Indian maiden garbed in beaded buckskin and brass
ornaments. Instead, Katy John wore a white sailor blouse, a brown
pleated skirt, tan shoes, and a bow of baby blue ribbon in her hair.

"Why, she talks good English," Miss Benton exclaimed, as fragments of
the girl's speech floated over to her.

"Sure. As good as anybody," Charlie drawled. "Why not?"

"Well--er--I suppose my notion of Indians is rather vague," Stella
admitted. "Are they all civilized and educated?"

"Most of 'em," Benton replied. "The younger generation anyhow. Say,
Stell, can you cook?"

"A little," Stella rejoined guardedly. "That Indian girl's really
pretty, isn't she?"

"They nearly all are when they're young," he observed. "But they are old
and tubby by the time they're thirty."

Katy John's teeth shone white between her parted lips at some sally from
the cook. She stood by the door, swinging a straw hat in one hand.
Presently Matt handed her a parcel done up in newspaper, and she walked
away with a nod to some of the loggers sitting with their backs against
the bunkhouse wall.

"Why were you asking if I could cook?" Stella inquired, when the girl
vanished in the brush.