leddy as is the ekal ov a Fayld Marshal's darter--not to sphake ov
Kernal Preston's--ez couldn't hold a candle to her."

Brought up on the Spanish frontier, Maggie Culpepper was one of the
few American girls who was not familiar with the Irish race. The
rare smile that momentarily lit up her petulant mouth seemed to
justify the intruder's praise. But it passed quickly, and she
returned dryly:

"That means you want more drink, suthin' to eat, and clothes.
Suppose my brother comes back and ketches you here?"

"Shure, Miss, he's just now hunten me, along wid his two haythen
Diggers, beyond the laygoon there. It worr the yellar one that
sphotted me lyin' there in the ditch; it worr only your own oiyes,
Miss--more power to their beauty for that!--that saw me folly him
unbeknownst here; and that desaved them, ye see!"

The young girl remained for an instant silent and thoughtful.

"We're no friends of the Fort," she said finally, "but I don't
reckon for that reason my brother will cotton to YOU. Stay out
thar where ye are, till I come to ye. If you hear me singin'
again, you'll know he's come back, and ye'd better scoot with what
you've already got, and be thankful."

She shut the door again and locked it, went into the dining-room,
returned with some provisions wrapped in paper, took a common
wicker flask from the wall, passed into her brother's bedroom, and
came out with a flannel shirt, overalls, and a coarse Indian