“Dakota isn’t your real name,” she declared sharply.
“Ain’t it?” There came the drawl again. It irritated her this time.
“No!” she snapped.
“Well, it’s as good as any other. Good-night.”
Sheila did not answer. Five minutes later she was asleep.
CHAPTER II
THE DIM TRAIL
Sheila had been dreaming of a world in which there was nothing but rain and mud and clouds and reckless-eyed individuals who conversed in irritating drawls when a sharp crash of thunder awakened her. During her sleep she had turned her face to the wall, and when her eyes opened the first thing that her gaze rested on was the small window above her head. She regarded it for some time, following with her eyes the erratic streams that trickled down the glass, stretching out wearily, listening to the wind. It was cold and bleak outside and she had much to be thankful for.