“What’s this?” cried a man, authoritatively.  He had come swiftly up, and arrived at the scene where stood the grizzled frontiersman.

“It was purty handy, Wentz.  I couldn’t hev’ did better myself, and I was comin’ for that purpose,” said the frontiersman.  “Leffler was tryin’ to kiss the lass.  He’s been drunk fer two days.  That little girl’s sweetheart kin handle himself some, now you take my word on it.”

“I’ll agree Leff’s bad when he’s drinkin’,” answered the fur-trader, and to Joe he added, “He’s liable to look you up when he comes around.”

“Tell him if I am here when he gets sober, I’ll kill him,” Joe cried in a sharp voice.  His gaze rested once more on the fallen teamster, and again an odd contraction of his eyes was noticeable.  The glance was cutting, as if with the flash of cold gray steel.  “Nell, I’m sorry I wasn’t round sooner,” he said, apologetically, as if it was owing to his neglect the affair had happened.

As they entered the cabin Nell stole a glance at him.  This was the third time he had injured a man because of her.  She had on several occasions seen that cold, steely glare in his eyes, and it had always frightened her.  It was gone, however, before they were inside the building.  He said something which she did not hear distinctly, and his calm voice allayed her excitement.  She had been angry with him; but now she realized that her resentment had disappeared.  He had spoken so kindly after the outburst.  Had he not shown that he considered himself her protector and lover?  A strange emotion, sweet and subtle as the taste of wine, thrilled her, while a sense of fear because of his strength was mingled with her pride in it.  Any other girl would have been only too glad to have such a champion; she would, too, hereafter, for he was a man of whom to be proud.

“Look here, Nell, you haven’t spoken to me,” Joe cried suddenly, seeming to understand that she had not even heard what he said, so engrossed had she been with her reflections.  “Are you mad with me yet?” he continued.  “Why, Nell, I’m in—­I love you!”

Evidently Joe thought such fact a sufficient reason for any act on his part.  His tender tone conquered Nell, and she turned to him with flushed cheeks and glad eyes.

“I wasn’t angry at all,” she whispered, and then, eluding the arm he extended, she ran into the other room.

Chapter III.

Joe lounged in the doorway of the cabin, thoughtfully contemplating two quiet figures that were lying in the shade of a maple tree.  One he recognized as the Indian with whom Jim had spent an earnest hour that morning; the red son of the woods was wrapped in slumber.  He had placed under his head a many-hued homespun shirt which the young preacher had given him; but while asleep his head had rolled off this improvised pillow, and the bright garment lay free, attracting the eye.  Certainly it had led to the train of thought which had found lodgment in Joe’s fertile brain.