“Well, what is the great question you have to put to me?” said the lieutenant to his friend, whom he had rejoined, and with whom he now returned slowly towards the house—­“one involving a case of life and death it might be imagined, from the long face you put on when alluding to the matter.”

“Nay, not exactly that, but still involving a good deal.  Tell me frankly, Elmsley, has Miss Heywood heard any further account of the events at the farm-house?”

“She has heard the report brought in by Nixon and the rest of the fishing-party.”

“And what was that, I pray you?” eagerly returned the ensign.

“That Mr. Heywood had been carried off by the Indians.”

“From whom did she hear it?”

“It was I who told her, on the strength of what the corporal reported, not only to myself, but to Captain Headley.”

“You are a considerate fellow, Elmsley,” said his friend, warmly pressing his hand.  “I thank you for that, and now that the great question, as you term it, is answered, I am quite ready for the promised breakfast.  Did these fellows bring home any fish?  I have a great fancy for fish this morning.”

“No; they brought home dead men,” and the lieutenant looked searchingly into the face of his companion, dwelling on every word, moreover, as if he would convey that he (Ronayne), knew perfectly well what freight the boat had brought to the Fort.

Further remark was prevented by their arrival at their destination—­the front-door being open, and revealing the little party within.  The first upon, whom the young officer’s eye fell, was Mrs. Headley, of whose intended presence, his friend had not thought of apprising him.  Still smarting under a keen sense of the severity of reproof of his commanding officer, and falling into the common error of involving the wife in the unamiability of the husband, Ronayne would have retired, even at the risk of losing his breakfast, and, what was of far more moment to him, of delaying his meeting with her to whom his every thought was devoted.  But when Mrs. Headley, who had remarked the movement, came forward to the door, and gave him her hand with all the warmth and candor of her noble nature, the pique vanished from his mind, and in an instant, he, like Elmsley, evinced that devotion and regard for her, which her fascinating manner could not fail to inspire.

The sense of constraint being thus banished by the only one whose presence had occasioned it, the party, after a few minutes low conversation between the lovers, sat down gaily to a meal—­half-break fast, half-luncheon, at which the most conspicuous actor was the lately reprimanded ensign.

“Really, Mr. Ronayne, you must have met with a perfect chapter of adventures during your absence last night.  You have devoured the last four fresh eggs, my cook says, there were in the house—­three limbs of a prairie fowl, and nearly the half of a young bear ham.  Do, pray, tell us where you have been to gain such an appetite?  Indeed you must—­I am dying to know.”