“Release my pony’s head!” she cried, her face flushing, as she gave a jerk to the reins.  “How dare you?  What right have you to detain me?”

The expression Betty saw on Clarke’s face was not new to her, for she remembered having seen it on the faces of young gentlemen whom she had met at her aunt’s house in Philadelphia.  It was the slight, provoking smile of the man familiar with the various moods of young women, the expression of an amused contempt for their imperiousness.  But it was not that which angered Betty.  It was the coolness with which he still held her pony regardless of her commands.

“Pray do not get excited,” he said.  “I am sorry I cannot allow such a pretty little girl to have her own way.  I shall hold your pony until you say you will go back to the fort.”

“Sir!” exclaimed Betty, blushing a bright-red.  “You—­you are impertinent!”

“Not at all,” answered Alfred, with a pleasant laugh.  “I am sure I do not intend to be.  Captain Boggs did not acquaint me with full particulars or I might have declined my present occupation:  not, however, that it is not agreeable just at this moment.  He should have mentioned the danger of my being run down by Indian ponies and imperious young ladies.”

“Will you let go of that bridle, or shall I get off and walk back for assistance?” said Betty, getting angrier every moment.

“Go back to the fort at once,” ordered Alfred, authoritatively.  “Captain Boggs’ orders are that no one shall be allowed to leave the clearing.”

“Oh!  Why did you not say so?  I thought you were Simon Girty, or a highwayman.  Was it necessary to keep me here all this time to explain that you were on duty?”

“You know sometimes it is difficult to explain,” said Alfred, “besides, the situation had its charm.  No, I am not a robber, and I don’t believe you thought so.  I have only thwarted a young lady’s whim, which I am aware is a great crime.  I am very sorry.  Goodbye.”

Betty gave him a withering glance from her black eyes, wheeled her pony and galloped away.  A mellow laugh was borne to her ears before she got out of hearing, and again the red blood mantled her cheeks.

“Heavens!  What a little beauty,” said Alfred to himself, as he watched the graceful rider disappear.  “What spirit!  Now, I wonder who she can be.  She had on moccasins and buckskin gloves and her hair tumbled like a tomboy’s, but she is no backwoods girl, I’ll bet on that.  I’m afraid I was a little rude, but after taking such a stand I could not weaken, especially before such a haughty and disdainful little vixen.  It was too great a temptation.  What eyes she had!  Contrary to what I expected, this little frontier settlement bids fair to become interesting.”