It was Sunday morning and Clarke had been two days in Fort Henry.  From his little room in the block-house he surveyed the well-remembered scene.  The rolling hills, the broad river, the green forests seemed like old friends.

“Here I am again,” he mused.  “What a fool a man can be.  I have left a fine old plantation, slaves, horses, a country noted for its pretty women—­for what?  Here there can be nothing for me but Indians, hard work, privation, and trouble.  Yet I could not get here quickly enough.  Pshaw!  What use to speak of the possibilities of a new country.  I cannot deceive myself.  It is she.  I would walk a thousand miles and starve myself for months just for one glimpse of her sweet face.  Knowing this what care I for all the rest.  How strange she should ride down to the old sycamore tree yesterday the moment I was there and thinking of her.  Evidently she had just returned from her visit.  I wonder if she ever cared.  I wonder if she ever thinks of me.  Shall I accept that incident as a happy augury?  Well, I am here to find out and find out I will.  Aha! there goes the church bell.”

Laughing a little at his eagerness he brushed his coat, put on his cap and went down stairs.  The settlers with their families were going into the meeting house.  As Alfred started up the steps he met Lydia Boggs.

“Why, Mr. Clarke, I heard you had returned,” she said, smiling pleasantly and extending her hand.  “Welcome to the fort.  I am very glad to see you.”

While they were chatting her father and Col.  Zane came up and both greeted the young man warmly.

“Well, well, back on the frontier,” said the Colonel, in his hearty way.  “Glad to see you at the fort again.  I tell you, Clarke, I have taken a fancy to that black horse you left me last fall.  I did not know what to think when Jonathan brought back my horse.  To tell you the truth I always looked for you to come back.  What have you been doing all winter?”

“I have been at home.  My mother was ill all winter and she died in April.”

“My lad, that’s bad news.  I am sorry,” said Col.  Zane putting his hand kindly on the young man’s shoulder.  “I was wondering what gave you that older and graver look.  It’s hard, lad, but it’s the way of life.”

“I have come back to get my old place with you, Col.  Zane, if you will give it to me.”

“I will, and can promise you more in the future.  I am going to open a road through to Maysville, Kentucky, and start several new settlements along the river.  I will need young men, and am more than glad you have returned.”

“Thank you, Col.  Zane.  That is more than I could have hoped for.”

Alfred caught sight of a trim figure in a gray linsey gown coming down the road.  There were several young people approaching, but he saw only Betty.  By some evil chance Betty walked with Ralfe Miller, and for some mysterious reason, which women always keep to themselves, she smiled and looked up into his face at a time of all times she should not have done so.  Alfred’s heart turned to lead.