ery blade of grass has its joy for him as well as its knowledge;
how he curls up in his little bark shack and is lulled to sleep by
the sighing of the wind through the pine tops. He told me he has
often watched the stars for hours at a time. I know there is a
waterfall back in the Black Forest somewhere that Lewis goes to,
simply to sit and watch the water tumble over the precipice."

"Wetzel is a wonderful character, even to those who know him only as
an Indian slayer and a man who wants no other occupation. Some day
he will go off on one of these long jaunts and will never return.
That is certain. The day is fast approaching when a man like Wetzel
will be of no use in life. Now, he is a necessity. Like Tige he can
smell Indians. Betty, I believe Lewis tells you so much and is so
kind and gentle toward you because he cares for you."

"Of course Lew likes me. I know he does and I want him to," said
Betty. "But he does not care as you seem to think. Grandmother
Watkins said the same. I am sure both of you are wrong."

"Did Dan's mother tell you that? Well, she's pretty shrewd. It's
quite likely, Betty, quite likely. It seems to me you are not so
quick witted as you used to be."

"Why so?" asked Betty, quickly.

"Well, you used to be different somehow," said her brother, as he
patted her hand.

"Do you mean I am more thoughtful?"

"Yes, and sometimes you seem sad."

"I have tried to be brave and--and happy," said Betty, her voice
trembling slightly.

"Yes, yes, I know you have, Betty. You have done wonderfully well
here in this dead place. But tell me, don't be angry, don't you
think too much of some one?"

"You have no right to ask me that," said Betty, flushing and turning
away toward the stairway.

"Well, well, child, don't mind me. I did not mean anything. There,
good night, Betty."

Long after she had gone up-stairs Col. Zane sat by his fireside.
From time to time he sighed. He thought of the old Virginia home and
of the smile of his mother. It seemed only a few short years since
he had promised her that he would take care of the baby sister. How
had he kept that promise made when Betty was a little thing bouncing
on his knee? It seemed only yesterday. How swift the flight of time!
Already Betty was a woman; her sweet, gay girlhood had passed;
already a shadow had fallen on her face, the shadow of a secret
sorrow.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

March with its blustering winds had depart