“Her father and mother called her Wik-a-nee,” said Willie; “and I like that name better than I do Moppet.”  He took great pains to teach it to his baby sister; and he succeeded so well, that, whenever the red-and-yellow basket was shown to her, she said, “Mik-a-nee,”—­the W being beyond her infant capabilities.

Something of tenderness mixed with Mrs. Wharton’s recollections of the grotesque little stranger.  “I never saw anything so like the light of an astral lamp as those beautiful large eyes of hers,” said she.  “I began to love the odd little thing; and if she had stayed much longer, I should have been very loath to part with her.”

The remembrance of the incident gradually faded; but whenever a far-off neighbor or passing emigrant stopped at the cabin, Willie brought forward his basket, and repeated the story of Wik-a-nee,—­seldom forgetting to imitate her strange cry of joy when she saw the scarlet peas.  His mother was now obliged to be more watchful than ever to prevent him from wandering out of sight and hearing.  He had imbibed an indefinite idea that there was a great realm of adventure out there beyond.  If he could only get a little nearer to the horizon, he thought he might perhaps find another pappoose, or catch a prairie-dog and tame it.  He had heard his father say that a great many of those animals lived together in houses under ground,—­that they placed sentinels at their doors to watch, and held a town-meeting when any danger approached.  When Willie was summoned from his exploring excursions, he often remonstrated, saying, “Mother, what makes you blow the horn so soon?  You never give me time to find a prairie-dog.  It would be capital fun to have a dog that knows enough to go to town-meeting.”  Charley took particular pleasure in increasing his excitement on that subject.  He told him he had once seen a prairie-dog standing sentinel at the entrance-hole of their habitations.  He made a picture of the creature with charcoal on the shed-door, and proposed to prick a copy of it into Willie’s arm with India-ink, which was joyfully agreed to.  The likeness, when completed, was very much like a squash upon two sticks, but it was eminently satisfactory to the boys.  There was no end to Willie’s inquiries.  How to find that hole which Charley had seen, to crawl into it, and attend a dogs’ town-meeting, was the ruling idea of his life.  Unsentimental as it was, considering the juvenile gallantry he had manifested, it was an undeniable fact, that, in the course of a few months, prairie-dogs had chased Wik-a-nee almost beyond the bounds of his memory.