e was not a coward. But he made no
effort to attack Wetzel. It was certain that he measured with his
eye the distance to the door. Wetzel was not like other men.
Irrespective of his wonderful strength and agility there was
something about the Indian hunter that terrified all men. Miller
shrank before those eyes. He knew that never in all his life of
adventure had he been as near death as at that moment. There was
nothing between him and eternity but the delicate arms of this frail
girl. At a slight wave of the hunter's hand towards the door he
turned and passed out.

"Oh, how dreadful!" cried Betty, dropping upon a bench with a sob of
relief. "I am glad you came when you did even though you frightened
me more than he did. Promise me that you will not do Miller any
further harm. If you had fought it would all have been on my
account; one or both of you might have been killed. Don't look at me
so. I do not care for him. I never did. Now that I know him I
despise him. He lost his senses and tried to kiss me. I could have
killed him myself."

Wetzel did not answer. Betty had been holding his hand in both her
own while she spoke impulsively.

"I understand how difficult it is for you to overlook an insult to
me," she continued earnestly. "But I ask it of you. You are my best
friend, almost my brother, and I promise you that if he ever speaks
a word to me again that is not what it should be I will tell you."

"I reckon I'll let him go, considerin' how set on it you are."

"But remember, Lew, that he is revengeful and you must be on the
lookout," said Betty gravely as she recalled the malignant gleam in
Miller's eyes.

"He's dangerous only like a moccasin snake that hides in the grass."

"Am I all right? Do I look mussed or--or excited--or anything?"
asked Betty.

Lewis smiled as she turned round for his benefit. Her hair was a
little awry and the lace at her neck disarranged. The natural bloom
had not quite returned to her cheeks. With a look in his eyes that
would have mystified Betty for many a day had she but seen it he ran
his gaze over the dainty figure. Then reassuring her that she looked
as well as ever, he led her into the dance-room.

"So this is Betty Zane. Dear child, kiss me," said Grandmother
Watkins when Wetzel had brought Betty up to her. "Now, let me get a
good look at you. Well, well, you are a true Zane. Black hair and
eyes; all fire and pride. Child, I knew your father and mother long
before yo