ng day. He meant to hold her back
until he could take a look inside; but her nimble feet carried her
ahead, and she was on the porch before he could check her.

Saladin was a horse that would stand without tying; and, paying no heed
to him, the youth hurried after his sister, seizing her hand as it was
raised to draw the string hanging outside the door.

"Dot," he said, "why do you not obey me? You must wait till I first go
in."

It was not often her big brother spoke so sternly, and there came a tear
into each of the bright eyes, as she stepped back and poutingly waited
for him to do as he thought best.

Melville raised his hand to draw the latch, but his heart failed.
Stepping to one side, he peered through the narrow window that helped to
light up the lower floor.

The muslin curtain was partly drawn, but he was able to see most of the
interior. Table, chairs, and furniture were all in place, but not a
glimpse of a living person was visible.

[Illustration: "He peered through the narrow window."]

The emotions of childhood are as changeable as the shadows of the
flitting clouds.

Dot was pouting while Mel stood irresolute on the small porch, and was
sure she would never, never speak to the mean fellow again; but the
instant he peeped through the narrow window she forgot everything else,
and darted forward to take her place at his side, and find out what it
was that made him act so queerly.

Before she reached him she stopped short with the exclamation--

"Oh, Mel! here's a letter for you!"

CHAPTER TWO

AN IMPORTANT LETTER--SHUT IN

Astonished by the cry, young Clarendon turned his head and looked at his
sister, who landed at his side that moment like a fairy. She was holding
a sheet of paper in her hand. It was folded in the form of an envelope,
and pencilled on the outside in bold letters were the words--

"Melville Clarendon.
"In haste; read instantly."

He took the letter from his sister and trembled, as if from a chill, as
he hurriedly unfolded the paper and read--

"MY DEAR MEL,--Leave at once! The Sioux have taken the war-path,
and a party of their worst warriors from the Muddy Creek country
have started out on a raid. They are sure to come this way, and
I suppose the house will be burned, and everything on which they
can lay hands destroyed. They are under the lead of the
desperate Red Feather, and will spare nothing. A friendly Sioux
stopp