" he cried, as Betty ran down the
steps.

The Colonel bundled her in a buffalo robe in a corner of the
foremost sled. At her feet he placed a buckskin bag containing a hot
stone Mrs. Zane thoughtfully had provided.

"All ready here. Let them go," called the Colonel. "You will have
clear weather. Coming back look well to the traces and keep a watch
for the wolves."

The long whips cracked, the bells jingled, the impatient horses
plunged forward and away they went over the glistening snow. The
night was clear and cold; countless stars blinked in the black vault
overhead; the pale moon cast its wintry light down on a white and
frozen world. As the runners glided swiftly and smoothly onward
showers of dry snow like fine powder flew from under the horses'
hoofs and soon whitened the black-robed figures in the sleds. The
way led down the hill past the Fort, over the creek bridge and along
the road that skirted the Black Forest. The ride was long; it led up
and down hills, and through a lengthy stretch of gloomy forest.
Sometimes the drivers walked the horses up a steep climb and again
raced them along a level bottom. Making a turn in the road they saw
a bright light in the distance which marked their destination. In
five minutes the horses dashed into a wide clearing. An immense log
fire burned in front of a two-story structure. Streams of light
poured from the small windows; the squeaking of fiddles, the
shuffling of many feet, and gay laughter came through the open door.

The steaming horses were unhitched, covered carefully with robes and
led into sheltered places, while the merry party disappeared into
the house.

The occasion was the celebration of the birthday of old Dan Watkins'
daughter. Dan was one of the oldest settlers along the river; in
fact, he had located his farm several years after Col. Zane had
founded the settlement. He was noted for his open-handed dealing and
kindness of heart. He had loaned many a head of cattle which had
never been returned, and many a sack of flour had left his mill
unpaid for in grain. He was a good shot, he would lay a tree on the
ground as quickly as any man who ever swung an axe, and he could
drink more whiskey than any man in the valley.

Dan stood at the door with a smile of welcome upon his rugged
features and a handshake and a pleasant word for everyone. His
daughter Susan greeted the men with a little curtsy and kissed the
girls upon the cheek. Susan was not pretty, t