see, it was this way. When they was Indian-fightin' up there with
the Modoc Indians, a lot of the miners an' settlers took a hand.
Roberts was captain of one outfit, and once, after a fight, they
took a lot of prisoners--squaws, an' kids an' babies. An' one of
the kids was my father. They figured he was about five years old.
He didn't know nothin' but Indian."

Saxon clapped her hands, and her eyes sparkled: "He'd been
captured on an Indian raid!"

"That's the way they figured it," Billy nodded. "They recollected
a wagon-train of Oregon settlers that'd been killed by the Modocs
four years before. Roberts adopted him, and that's why I don't
know his real name. But you can bank on it, he crossed the plains
just the same."

"So did my father," Saxon said proudly.

"An' my mother, too," Billy added, pride touching his own voice.
"Anyway, she came pretty close to crossin' the plains, because
she was born in a wagon on the River Platte on the way out."

"My mother, too," said Saxon. "She was eight years old, an' she
walked most of the way after the oxen began to give out."

Billy thrust out his hand.

"Put her there, kid," he said. "We're just like old friends, what
with the same kind of folks behind us."