hopelessly foolish, with no possible end but death in the wilderness.
Still there was a method in love's madness, and Beverley, with his
superb physique, his knowledge of the wilderness and his indomitable
self-reliance, was by no means without his fighting chance for success.

CHAPTER XII

MANON LESCAUT. AND A RAPIER-THRUST

Beverley's absence was not noticed by Hamilton until late on the
following day, and even then he scouted Helm's suggestion that the
young man was possibly carrying out his threat to disregard his parole.

"He would be quite justified in doing it; you know that very well,"
said Helm with a laugh, "and he's just the man to undertake what is
impossible. Of course, however, he'll get scalped for his trouble, and
that will cost you something, I'm happy to say."

"It's a matter of small importance," Hamilton replied; "but I'll wager
you the next toddy that he's not at the present moment a half-mile from
this spot. He may be a fool, I readily grant that he is, but even a
fool is not going to set out alone in this kind of weather to go to
where your rebel friends are probably toasting their shins by a fire of
green logs and half starving over yonder on the Mississippi."

"Joking aside, you are doubtless right. Beverley is hot-headed, and if
he could he'd get even with you devilish quick; but he hasn't left
Vincennes, I think. Miss Roussillon would keep him here if the place
were on fire!"

Hamilton laughed dryly. He had thought just what Helm was saying.
Beverley's attentions to Alice had not escaped his notice.

"Speaking of that girl," he remarked after a moment's silence, "what am
I do to do with her? There's no place to keep her, and Farnsworth
insists that she wasn't to blame." He chuckled again and added:

"It's true as gospel. He's in love with her, too. Seems to be glad she
shot him. Says he's ashamed of himself for ever suspecting her of
anything but being a genuine angel. Why, he's got as flabby as a rabbit
and mumbles like a fool!"

"Same as you or I at his age," said Helm, taking a chew of tobacco.
"She IS a pretty thing. Beverley don't know his foot from his
shoulder-blade when she's anywhere near him. Boys are boys. I'm a sort
of a boy myself."

"If she'd give up that flag he'd let her go," said Hamilton. "I hate
like the devil to confine her; it looks brutal, and makes me feel like
a tyrant."

"Have you ever happened to notice the obvious fact, Governor Hamilton,
that