nothing of frontier life; but he was tired of idleness; he was strong and not afraid of work, and he could learn.  Colonel Zane, who prided himself on his judgment of character, took a liking to the young man at once, and giving him a rifle and accoutrements, told him the border needed young men of pluck and fire, and that if he brought a strong hand and a willing heart he could surely find fortune.  Possibly if Alfred Clarke could have been told of the fate in store for him he might have mounted his black steed and have placed miles between him and the frontier village; but, as there were none to tell, he went cheerfully out to meet that fate.

On this is bright spring morning he patrolled the road leading along the edge of the clearing, which was distant a quarter of a mile from the fort.  He kept a keen eye on the opposite side of the river, as he had been directed.  From the upper end of the island, almost straight across from where he stood, the river took a broad turn, which could not be observed from the fort windows.  The river was high from the recent rains and brush heaps and logs and debris of all descriptions were floating down with the swift current.  Rabbits and other small animals, which had probably been surrounded on some island and compelled to take to the brush or drown, crouched on floating logs and piles of driftwood.  Happening to glance down the road, Clarke saw a horse galloping in his direction.  At first he thought it was a messenger for himself, but as it neared him he saw that the horse was an Indian pony and the rider a young girl, whose long, black hair was flying in the wind.

“Hello!  I wonder what the deuce this is?  Looks like an Indian girl,” said Clarke to himself.  “She rides well, whoever she may be.”

He stepped behind a clump of laurel bushes near the roadside and waited.  Rapidly the horse and rider approached him.  When they were but a few paces distant he sprang out and, as the pony shied and reared at sight of him, he clutched the bridle and pulled the pony’s head down.  Looking up he encountered the astonished and bewildered gaze from a pair of the prettiest dark eyes it had ever been his fortune, or misfortune, to look into.

Betty, for it was she, looked at the young man in amazement, while Alfred was even more surprised and disconcerted.  For a moment they looked at each other in silence.  But Betty, who was scarcely ever at a loss for words, presently found her voice.

“Well, sir!  What does this mean?” she asked indignantly.

“It means that you must turn around and go back to the fort,” answered Alfred, also recovering himself.

Now Betty’s favorite ride happened to be along this road.  It lay along the top of the bluff a mile or more and afforded a fine unobstructed view of the river.  Betty had either not heard of the Captain’s order, that no one was to leave the fort, or she had disregarded it altogether; probably the latter, as she generally did what suited her fancy.