as she generally did
what suited her fancy.

"Release my pony's head!" she cried, her face flushing, as she gave
a jerk to the reins. "How dare you? What right have you to detain
me?"

The expression Betty saw on Clarke's face was not new to her, for
she remembered having seen it on the faces of young gentlemen whom
she had met at her aunt's house in Philadelphia. It was the slight,
provoking smile of the man familiar with the various moods of young
women, the expression of an amused contempt for their imperiousness.
But it was not that which angered Betty. It was the coolness with
which he still held her pony regardless of her commands.

"Pray do not get excited," he said. "I am sorry I cannot allow such
a pretty little girl to have her own way. I shall hold your pony
until you say you will go back to the fort."

"Sir!" exclaimed Betty, blushing a bright-red. "You--you are
impertinent!"

"Not at all," answered Alfred, with a pleasant laugh. "I am sure I
do not intend to be. Captain Boggs did not acquaint me with full
particulars or I might have declined my present occupation: not,
however, that it is not agreeable just at this moment. He should
have mentioned the danger of my being run down by Indian ponies and
imperious young ladies."

"Will you let go of that bridle, or shall I get off and walk back
for assistance?" said Betty, getting angrier every moment.

"Go back to the fort at once," ordered Alfred, authoritatively.
"Captain Boggs' orders are that no one shall be allowed to leave the
clearing."

"Oh! Why did you not say so? I thought you were Simon Girty, or a
highwayman. Was it necessary to keep me here all this time to
explain that you were on duty?"

"You know sometimes it is difficult to explain," said Alfred,
"besides, the situation had its charm. No, I am not a robber, and I
don't believe you thought so. I have only thwarted a young lady's
whim, which I am aware is a great crime. I am very sorry. Goodbye."

Betty gave him a withering glance from her black eyes, wheeled her
pony and galloped away. A mellow laugh was borne to her ears before
she got out of hearing, and again the red blood mantled her cheeks.

"Heavens! What a little beauty," said Alfred to himself, as he
watched the graceful rider disappear. "What spirit! Now, I wonder
who she can be. She had on moccasins and buckskin gloves and her
hair tumbled like a tomboy's, but she is no backwoods girl, I'll bet
on that. I'm afraid I wa