One afternoon, near the end of Betty’s siege indoors, two of her friends, Lydia Boggs and Alice Reynolds, called to see her.

Alice had bright blue eyes, and her nut brown hair hung in rebellious curls around her demure and pretty face.  An adorable dimple lay hidden in her rosy cheek and flashed into light with her smiles.

“Betty, you are a lazy thing!” exclaimed Lydia.  “Lying here all day long doing nothing but gaze out of the window.”

“Girls, I am glad you came over,” said Betty.  “I am blue.  Perhaps you will cheer me up.”

“Betty needs some one of the sterner sex to cheer her,” said Alice, mischievously, her eyes twinkling.  “Don’t you think so, Lydia?”

“Of course,” answered Lydia.  “When I get blue—­”

“Please spare me,” interrupted Betty, holding up her hands in protest.  “I have not a single doubt that your masculine remedies are sufficient for all your ills.  Girls who have lost their interest in the old pleasures, who spend their spare time in making linen and quilts, and who have sunk their very personalities in a great big tyrant of a man, are not liable to get blue.  They are afraid he may see a tear or a frown.  But thank goodness, I have not yet reached that stage.”

“Oh, Betty Zane!  Just you wait!  Wait!” exclaimed Lydia, shaking her finger at Betty.  “Your turn is coming.  When it does do not expect any mercy from us, for you shalt never get it.”

“Unfortunately, you and Alice have monopolized the attentions of the only two eligible young men at the fort,” said Betty, with a laugh.

“Nonsense there plenty of young men all eager for our favor, you little coquette,” answered Lydia.  “Harry Martin, Will Metzer, Captain Swearengen, of Short Creek, and others too numerous to count.  Look at Lew Wetzel and Billy Bennet.”

“Lew cares for nothing except hunting Indians and Billy’s only a boy,” said Betty.

“Well, have it your own way,” said Lydia.  “Only this, I know Billy adores you, for he told me so, and a better lad never lived.”

“Lyde, you forget to include one other among those prostrate before Betty’s charms,” said Alice.

“Oh, yes, you mean Mr. Clarke.  To be sure, I had forgotten him,” answered Lydia.  “How odd that he should be the one to find you the day you hurt your foot.  Was it an accident?”

“Of course.  I slipped off the bank,” said Betty.

“No, no.  I don’t mean that.  Was his finding you an accident?”

“Do you imagine I waylaid Mr. Clarke, and then sprained my ankle on purpose?” said Betty, who began to look dangerous.

“Certainly not that; only it seems so odd that he should be the one to rescue all the damsels in distress.  Day before yesterday he stopped a runaway horse, and saved Nell Metzer who was in the wagon, a severe shaking up, if not something more serious.  She is desperately in love with him.  She told me Mr. Clarke—­”