their country; men who had won their sweethearts with the sword; men who had
had unconquerable spirits. It was this fighting instinct that now rose in

Betty; it gave her strength and pride to defend her secret; the resolve to
fight against the longing in her heart.

"I will forget him! I will tear him out of my heart!" she exclaimed
passionately. "He never deserved my love. He did not care. I was a little fool

to let him amuse himself with me. He went away and forgot. I hate him."
At length Betty subdued her excitement, and when she went down to supper a few

minutes later she tried to maintain a cheerfulcomposure of manner and to chat
with her old-time vivacity.

"Bessie, I am sure you have exaggerated things," remarked Col. Zane after
Betty had gone upstairs to dress for the dance. "Perhaps it is only that Betty

grows a little tired of this howling wilderness. Small wonder if she does. You
know she has always been used to comfort and many young people, places to go

and all that. This is her first winter on the frontier. She'll come round all
right."

"Have it your way, Ebenezer," answered his wife with a look of amused contempt
on her face. "I am sure I hope you are right. By the way, what do you think of

this Ralfe Miller? He has been much with Betty of late."
"I do not know the fellow, Bessie. He seems agreeable. He is a good-looking

young man. Why do you ask?"
"The Major told me that Miller had a bad name at Pitt, and that he had been a

friend of Simon Girty before Girty became a renegade."
"Humph! I'll have to speak to Sam. As for knowing Girty, there is nothing

terrible in that. All the women seem to think that Simon is the very prince of
devils. I have known all the Girtys for years. Simon was not a bad fellow

before he went over to the Indians. It is his brother James who has committed
most of those deeds which have made the name of Girty so infamous."

"I don't like Miller," continued Mrs. Zane in a hesitating way. "I must admit
that I have no sensible reason for my dislike. He is pleasant and agreeable,

yes, but behind it there is a certain intensity. That man has something on his
mind."

"If he is in love with Betty, as you seem to think, he has enough on his mind.
I'll vouch for that," said Col. Zane. "Betty is inclined to be a coquette. If

she liked Clarke pretty well, it may be a lesson to her."
"I wish she were married and settled down. It may have been no great harm for

Betty to have kind many admirers while in Philadelphia, but out here on the
border it will never do. These men will not have it. There will be trouble

come of Betty's coquettishness."
"Why, Bessie, she is only a child. What would you have her do? Marry the first

man who asked her?"
"The clod-hoppers are coming," said Mrs. Zane as the jingling of sleigh bells

broke the stillness.
Col. Zane sprang up and opened the door. A broad stream of light flashed from

the room and lighted up the road. Three powerful teams stood before the door.
They were hitched to sleds, or clod-hoppers, which were nothing more than

wagon-beds fastened on wooden runners. A chorus of merry shouts greeted Col.
Zane as he appeared in the doorway.

"All right! all right! Here she is," he cried, as Betty ran down the steps.
The Colonel bundled her in a buffalo robe in a corner of the foremost sled. At

her feet he placed a buckskin bag containing a hot stone Mrs. Zane
thoughtfully had provided.

"All ready here. Let them go," called the Colonel. "You will have clear
weather. Coming back look well to the traces and keep a watch for the wolves."

The long whips cracked, the bells jingled, the impatient horses plunged
forward and away they went over the glistening snow. The night was clear and

cold; countless stars blinked in the black vault overhead; the pale moon cast
its wintry light down on a white and frozen world. As the runners glided

swiftly and smoothlyonward showers of dry snow like fine powder flew from
under the horses' hoofs and soon whitened the black-robed figures in the

sleds. The way led down the hill past the Fort, over the creek bridge and
along the road that skirted the Black Forest. The ride was long; it led up and

down hills, and through a lengthy stretch of gloomy forest. Sometimes the
drivers walked the horses up a steep climb and again raced them along a level

bottom. Making a turn in the road they saw a bright light in the distance
which marked their destination. In five minutes the horses dashed into a wide

clearing. An immense log fire burned in front of a two-story structure.
Streams of light poured from the small windows; the squeaking of fiddles, the

shuffling of many feet, and gay laughter came through the open door.
The steaming horses were unhitched, covered carefully with robes and led into

sheltered places, while the merry party disappeared into the house.
The occasion was the celebration of the birthday of old Dan Watkins' daughter.

Dan was one of the oldest settlers along the river; in fact, he had located
his farm several years after Col. Zane had founded the settlement. He was

noted for his open-handed dealing and kindness of heart. He had loaned many a
head of cattle which had never been returned, and many a sack of flour had

left his mill unpaid for in grain. He was a good shot, he would lay a tree on
the ground as quickly as any man who ever swung an axe, and he could drink

more whiskey than any man in the valley.
Dan stood at the door with a smile of welcome upon his rugged features and a

handshake and a pleasant word for everyone. His daughter Susan greeted the men
with a little curtsy and kissed the girls upon the cheek. Susan was not

pretty, though she was strong and healthy; her laughing blue eyes assured a
sunny disposition, and she numbered her suitors by the score.

The young people lost no time. Soon the floor was covered with their whirling
forms.

In one corner of the room sat a little dried-up old woman with white hair and
bright dark eyes. This was Grandma Watkins. She was very old, so old that no

one knew her age, but she was still vigorous enough to do her day's work with
more pleasure than many a younger woman. Just now she was talking to Wetzel,

who leaned upon his inseparable rifle and listened to her chatter. The hunter
liked the old lady and would often stop at her cabin while on his way to the

settlement and leave at her door a fat turkey or a haunch of venison.
"Lew Wetzel, I am ashamed of you." Grandmother Watkins was saying. "Put that

gun in the corner and get out there and dance. Enjoy yourself. You are only a
boy yet."

"I'd better look on, mother," answered the hunter.
"Pshaw! You can hop and skip around like any of then and laugh too if you

want. I hope that pretty sister of Eb Zane has caught your fancy."
"She is not for the like of me," he said gently "I haven't the gifts."

"Don't talk about gifts. Not to an old woman who has lived three times and
more your age," she said impatiently. "It is not gifts a woman wants out here

in the West. If she does 'twill do her no good. She needs a strong arm to
build cabins, a quick eye with a rifle, and a fearless heart. What

border-women want are houses and children. They must bring up men, men to
drive the redskins back, men to till the soil, or else what is the good of our

suffering here."
"You are right," said Wetzel thoughtfully. "But I'd hate to see a flower like

Betty Zane in a rude hunter's cabin."
"I have known the Zanes for forty year' and I never saw one yet that was

afraid of work. And you might win her if you would give up running mad after
Indians. I'll allow no woman would put up with that. You have killed many

Indians. You ought to be satisfied."
"Fightin' redskins is somethin' I can't help," said the hunter, slowly shaking

his head. "If I got married the fever would come on and I'd leave home. No,
I'm no good for a woman. Fightin' is all I'm good for."

"Why not fight for her, then? Don't let one of these boys walk off with her.
Look at her. She likes fun and admiration. I believe you do care for her. Why

not try to win her?"
"Who is that tall man with her?" continued the old lady as Wetzel did not

answer. "There, they have gone into the other room. Who is he?"
"His name is Miller."

"Lewis, I don't like him. I have been watching him all evening. I'm a contrary
old woman, I know, but I have seen a good many men in my time, and his face is

not honest. He is in love with her. Does she care for him?"
"No, Betty doesn't care for Miller. She's just full of life and fun."

"You may be mistaken. All the Zanes are fire and brimstone and this girl is a
Zane clear through. Go and fetch her to me, Lewis. I'll tell you if there's a

chance for you."
"Dear mother, perhaps there's a wife in Heaven for me. There's none on earth,"

said the hunter, a sad smile flitting over his calm face.
Ralfe Miller, whose actions had occasioned the remarks of the old lady, would

have been conspicuous in any assembly of men. There was something in his dark
face that compelled interest and yet left the observer in doubt. His square

chin, deep-set eyes and firm mouth denoted a strong and indomitable will. He
looked a man whom it would be dangerous to cross.