ed on account of Beverley's force in shutting it, she came
unexpectedly face to face with Captain Farnsworth, there was no great
surprise on her part.

He lifted his hat and bowed very politely; but a bold smile broke over
his somewhat ruddy face. He spoke in French, but in a drawling tone and
with a bad accent:

"How do you do, Mademoiselle; I am right glad to see you again."

Alice drew back a pace or two. She was quick to understand his
allusion, and she shrank from him, fearing that he was going to inquire
about the flag.

"Don't be afraid," he laughed. "I am not so dangerous. I never did hurt
a girl in all my life. In fact, I am fond of them when they're nice."

"I am not in the least afraid," she replied, assuming an air of
absolute dismissal, "and you don't look a bit ferocious, Monsieur. You
may pass on, if you please."

He flushed and bit his lip, probably to keep back some hasty retort,
and thought rapidly for a moment. She looked straight at him with eyes
that stirred and dazzled him. He was handsome in a coarse way, like a
fine young animal, well groomed, well fed, magnetic, forceful; but his
boldness, being of a sort to which she had not been accustomed,
disturbed her vaguely and strangely.

"Suppose that I don't pass on?" he presently ventured, with just a
suspicion of insolence in his attitude, but laughing until he showed
teeth of remarkable beauty and whiteness. "Suppose that I should wish
to have a little chat with you, Mademoiselle?"

"I have been told that there are men in the world who think themselves
handsome, and clever, and brilliant, when in fact they are but
conceited simpletons," she remarked, rather indifferently, muffling
herself in her fur wrap. "You certainly would be a fairly good
hitching-post for our horses if you never moved." Then she laughed out
of the depth of her hood, a perfectly merry laugh, but not in the least
flattering to Captain Farnsworth's vanity. He felt the scorn that it
conveyed.

His face grew redder, while a flash from hers made him wish that he had
been more gracious in his deportment. Here, to his surprise, was not a
mere creole girl of the wild frontier.

Her superiority struck him with the force of a captivating revelation,
under the light of which he blinked and winced.

She laid a shapely hand on the broken gate and pushed it open.

"I beg your pardon, Mademoiselle;" his manner softened as he spoke; "I
beg your pardon; but I came to speak to you