“No, that is not all.  He—­he said I was a pretty little girl and that he was sorry I could not have my own way; that his present occupation was pleasant, and that the situation had its charm.  The very idea.  He was most impertinent,” and Betty’s telltale cheeks reddened again at the recollection.

“Betty, I do not think your experience was so dreadful, certainly nothing to put you out as it has,” said Lydia, laughing merrily.  “Be serious.  You know we are not in the backwoods now and must not expect so much of the men.  These rough border men know little of refinement like that with which you have been familiar.  Some of them are quiet and never speak unless addressed; their simplicity is remarkable; Lew Wetzel and your brother Jonathan, when they are not fighting Indians, are examples.  On the other hand, some of them are boisterous and if they get anything to drink they will make trouble for you.  Why, I went to a party one night after I had been here only a few weeks and they played a game in which every man in the place kissed me.”

“Gracious!  Please tell me when any such games are likely to be proposed and I’ll stay home,” said Betty.

“I have learned to get along very well by simply making the best of it,” continued Lydia.  “And to tell the truth, I have learned to respect these rugged fellows.  They are uncouth; they have no manners, but their hearts are honest and true, and that is of much greater importance in frontiersmen than the little attentions and courtesies upon which women are apt to lay too much stress.”

“I think you speak sensibly and I shall try and be more reasonable hereafter.  But, to return to the man who spoiled my ride.  He, at least, is no frontiersman, notwithstanding his gun and his buckskin suit.  He is an educated man.  His manner and accent showed that.  Then he looked at me so differently.  I know it was that soldier from Fort Pitt.”

“Mr. Clarke?  Why, of course!” exclaimed Lydia, clapping her hands in glee.  “How stupid of me!”

“You seem to be amused,” said Betty, frowning.

“Oh, Betty, it is such a good joke.”

“Is it?  I fail to see it.”

“But I can.  I am very much amused.  You see, I heard Mr. Clarke say, after papa told him there were lots of pretty girls here, that he usually succeeded in finding those things out and without any assistance.  And the very first day he has met you and made you angry.  It is delightful.”

“Lyde, I never knew you could be so horrid.”

“It is evident that Mr. Clarke is not only discerning, but not backward in expressing his thoughts.  Betty, I see a romance.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” retorted Betty, with an angry blush.  “Of course, he had a right to stop me, and perhaps he did me a good turn by keeping me inside the clearing, though I cannot imagine why he hid behind the bushes.  But he might have been polite.  He made me angry.  He was so cool and—­and—­”