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 you were born.  Your father was a fine man but a proud one.  And how do you like the frontier?  Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Oh, yes, indeed,” said Betty, smiling brightly at the old lady.

“Well, dearie, have a good time while you can.  Life is hard in a pioneer’s cabin.  You will not always have the Colonel to look after you.  They tell me you have been to some grand school in Philadelphia.  Learning is very well, but it will not help you in the cabin of one of these rough men.”