the east—­and everyone looked on with great interest and curiosity.  But all too soon the dance ended and before Betty had recovered her composure she found that her partner had led her to a secluded seat in the lower end of the hall.  The bench was partly obscured from the dancers by masses of autumn leaves.  “That was a very pleasant dance,” said Alfred.  “Miss Boggs told me you danced the round dance.”

“I was much surprised and pleased,” said Betty, who had indeed enjoyed it.

“It has been a delightful day,” went on Alfred, seeing that Betty was still confused.  “I almost killed myself in that race for the bottle this morning.  I never saw such logs and brush heaps and ditches in my life.  I am sure that if the fever of recklessness which seemed in the air had not suddenly seized me I would never have put my horse at such leaps.”

“I heard my brother say your horse was one of the best he had ever seen, and that you rode superbly,” murmured Betty.

“Well, to be honest, I would not care to take that ride again.  It certainly was not fair to the horse.”

“How do you like the fort by this time?”

“Miss Zane, I am learning to love this free, wild life.  I really think I was made for the frontier.  The odd customs and manners which seemed strange at first have become very acceptable to me now.  I find everyone so honest and simple and brave.  Here one must work to live, which is right.  Do you know, I never worked in my life until I came to Fort Henry.  My life was all uselessness, idleness.”

“I can hardly believe that,” answered Betty.  “You have learned to dance and ride and—­”

“What?” asked Alfred, as Betty hesitated.

“Never mind.  It was an accomplishment with which the girls credited you,” said Betty, with a little laugh.

“I suppose I did not deserve it.  I heard I had a singular aptitude for discovering young ladies in distress.”

“Have you become well acquainted with the boys?” asked Betty, hastening to change the subject.

“Oh, yes, particularly with your Indianized brother, Isaac.  He is the finest fellow, as well as the most interesting, I ever knew.  I like Colonel Zane immensely too.  The dark, quiet fellow, Jack, or John, they call him, is not like your other brothers.  The hunter, Wetzel, inspires me with awe.  Everyone has been most kind to me and I have almost forgotten that I was a wanderer.”

“I am glad to hear that,” said Betty.

“Miss Zane,” continued Alfred, “doubtless you have heard that I came West because I was compelled to leave my home.  Please do not believe everything you hear of me.  Some day I may tell you my story if you care to hear it.  Suffice it to say now that I left my home of my own free will and I could go back to-morrow.”

“I did not mean to imply—­” began Betty, coloring.

“Of course not.  But tell me about yourself.  Is it not rather dull and lonesome here for you?”