er eyes flashing fire. "Why, I'd kill him!"

"I believe it, Betts, on my word I do," spoke up the Colonel. "But
let us hope you may never see Girty. All I ask is that you be
careful. I am going over to Short Creek to-morrow. Will you go with
me? I know Mrs. Raymer will be pleased to see you."

"Oh, Eb, that will be delightful!"

"Very well, get ready and we shall start early in the morning."

Two weeks later Betty returned from Short Creek and seemed to have
profited much by her short visit. Col. Zane remarked with
satisfaction to his wife that Betty had regained all her former
cheerfulness.

The morning after Betty's return was a perfect spring morning--the
first in that month of May-days. The sun shone bright and warm; the
mayflowers blossomed; the trailing arbutus scented the air;
everywhere the grass and the leaves looked fresh and green; swallows
flitted in and out of the barn door; the blue-birds twittered; a
meadow-lark caroled forth his pure melody, and the busy hum of bees
came from the fragrant apple-blossoms.

"Mis' Betty, Madcap 'pears powerfo' skittenish," said old Sam, when
he had led the pony to where Betty stood on the hitching block.
"Whoa, dar, you rascal."

Betty laughed as she leaped lightly into the saddle, and soon she
was flying over the old familiar road, down across the creek bridge,
past the old grist-mill, around the fort and then out on the river
bluff. The Indian pony was fiery and mettlesome. He pranced and
side-stepped, galloped and trotted by turns. He seemed as glad to
get out again into the warm sunshine as was Betty herself. He tore
down the road a mile at his best speed. Coming back Betty pulled him
into a walk. Presently her musings were interrupted by a sharp
switch in the face from a twig of a tree. She stopped the pony and
broke off the offending branch. As she looked around the
recollection of what had happened to her in that very spot flashed
into her mind. It was here that she had been stopped by the man who
had passed almost as swiftly out of her life as he had crossed her
path that memorable afternoon. She fell to musing on the old
perplexing question. After all could there not have been some
mistake? Perhaps she might have misjudged him? And then the old
spirit, which resented her thinking of him in that softened mood,
rose and fought the old battle over again. But as often happened the
mood conquered, and Betty permitted herself to sink for the moment
into the sad