Then, in the outspoken manner of the prairie folk he asked:
"Who ah you?"
"I am Cyclona," she answered.
"Cyclona what?"
"Just Cyclona. I ain't got no other name."
Seth smiled back at her, she seemed so timidly wild, like those little prairie dogs that stand on their haunches and bark, and yet are ever mindful of the safety of their near-by lairs, waiting for them in case of molestation.
"Wheah did you come frum?" he queried.
"Two or three hundred miles from here," she answered, "where we had a claim."
"Who is we?" asked Seth.
"My father and me. He ain't my real father. He's the man what adopted me."