"A hussy, Lyd, is a flirt who's gone to the bad. Those around Lake City chase after the students and the Indians who've got Government allowances, and get their money away from them."
"Oh," said Lydia. "Oh!" Then thoughtfully, "Aren't men silly!"
"Yes, they are," agreed Kent. "And, Lyd, whenever you want to know about such things, you ask me. It's a man's place to tell a girl the things she ought to know."
"All right," replied Lydia, "and of course, you're just like a brother to me."
"Oh, I don't feel so brotherly as—Gee, there's a fire, Lydia!"
Faintly through the trees gleamed a distant blaze. The two jumped to their feet and, weariness forgotten, started hastily toward it.
"It's the camp crowd, I guess," said Lydia.
"No, it isn't, it's a bunch of men," corrected Kent. "Hold on a minute, Lydia. Let's see what we're getting into."
He pulled her into the shelter of a giant pine trunk and the two peered at the group around the fire.
"Some kind of an Indian pow-wow, half breeds, mostly," whispered Kent.