many times in the last ten years, with full
information concerning the doings of the Indians. However, the days
passed and nothing happened. Their work completed, the settlers
waited for the first sign of an enemy. But as none came, gradually
their fears were dispelled and they began to think the alarm had
been a false one.

All this time Alfred Clarke was recovering his health and strength.
The day came when he was able to leave his bed and sit by the
window. How glad it made him feel to look out on the green woods and
the broad, winding river; how sweet to his ears were the songs of
the birds; how soothing was the drowsy hum of the bees in the
fragrant honeysuckle by his window. His hold on life had been slight
and life was good. He smiled in pitying derision as he remembered
his recklessness. He had not been in love with life. In his gloomy
moods he had often thought life was hardly worth the living. What
sickly sentiment! He had been on the brink of the grave, but he had
been snatched back from the dark river of Death. It needed but this
to show him the joy of breathing, the glory of loving, the sweetness
of living. He resolved that for him there would be no more drifting,
no more purposelessness. If what Wetzel had told him was true, if he
really had not loved in vain, then his cup of happiness was
overflowing. Like a far-off and almost forgotten strain of music
some memory struggled to take definite shape in his mind; but it was
so hazy, so vague, so impalpable, that he could remember nothing
clearly.

Isaac Zane and his Indian bride called on Alfred that afternoon.

"Alfred, I can't tell you how glad I am to see you up again," said
Isaac, earnestly, as he wrung Alfred's hand. "Say, but it was a
tight squeeze! It has been a bad time for you."

Nothing could have been more pleasing than Myeerah's shy yet
eloquent greeting. She gave Alfred her little hand and said in her
figurative style of speaking, "Myeerah is happy for you and for
others. You are strong like the West Wind that never dies."

"Myeerah and I are going this afternoon, and we came over to say
good-bye to you. We intend riding down the river fifteen miles and
then crossing, to avoid running into any band of Indians."

"And how does Myeerah like the settlement by this time?"

"Oh, she is getting on famously. Betty and she have fallen in love
with each other. It is amusing to hear Betty try to talk in the
Wyandot tongue, and to see Myeerah's con