"My fat'er say nobody but you can stop it." It was clear to Ambrose that "trouble" signified danger to Colina.
"I'll come," he said apathetically.
"Where is your dugout ?" asked Tole.
Ambrose explained.
"Bring all your things," said Tole.

"You stay at our house now till you go back.

My mot'er got good medicine.

She cure _mal de tete_." Ambrose reflected bitterly that Mrs.Grampierre's simples could hardly reach his complaint.

Nevertheless, he was not anxious to be left alone--he was not one to nourish a sorrow.