est at this name. The mother marked it. | "They did say he was paying attention to her before he got leave and left for the states, but I never believed it. He can see as far as the best of 'em; and she's false, Miss Claudia is." Mrs. Stubbs made this damaging statement against the major's daughter as calmly as though it had been the mildest innuendo. "But I reckon you saw a good deal of the captain on the way out," she added slyly, watching the girl, whose face was turned toward her.

"Yes," Blossom said slowly, unconscious of this espionage, "I saw him often riding with the others. I came to know his face quite well."

"He's a pleasant-spoken young man. Many's the evening he's spent here, smoking a pipe with your father, or taking a hand at cards with the rest of 'em." "I never heard him speak," Blossom said thoughtfully, "or only once. It was the night before we left the train-last night. How long ago it seems! I climbed down from the wagon-it was dark, you know-for a breath of air and-and I met him face to face."

"He had a pleasant word for you, I'll warrant."

Blossom did not say that she had given him no opportunity to offer such a word. "He apologized and went away," she said, but she blushed a little, remembering how she had begged him to go. She must have appeared very silly in his eyes.

"But there was the long ride to the fort," persisted the mother, anxious to know how far this most fortunate acquaintance had progressed. "It don't stand to reason that he never spoke to you once on the way."

66

'I hardly know; I cannot remember; but I was so frightened at last!" Blossom forgot everything else in the recollection of it. "We rode close to their camp, so close that we thought we had roused them. I shall never forget it!" and the girl began to tremble, covering her face.

"There, don't think about it," said the mother, who hardly knew how to deal with fancies and fears so unlike her own. "It'll pass out of your mind when you've slept on it. Yes, he's a real gentleman, Captain Elyot is," she went on, going back to the first subject. "Stubbs'll give him something handsome when he comes in; though ten chances to one he wont take it. He's that proud, Cap'n Elyot is. But we'll ask him to supper. Your father'll know I'm

getting ready for 'em and'll bring him here, I don't doubt."

"And you think there is no danger?" Blossom asked in a trembling voice. The ride of the night before had come back to her so vividly as to arouse her fears again.

"How can that be with the troops to back 'em? Why, the Injuns'll fly like smoke before the wind." Blossom was assured by the bold words; the more perhaps because she remembered who rode at the head of the company from the fort. "You just make yourself fine, child, and don't worry about your father. Put on your prettiest ribbons, for I'm greatly mistaken if we don't have a handsome young man to supper to-night."

"But they're bringing my ribbons in with them," laughed Blossom. "I shall have no time to put them on. And oh, mother, I have no clothes but these!" And the girl looked ruefully at the odd dress which she had worn into the fort.

"Never you mind, child. You've that in your face that's better than fine clothes," the mother said proudly. "An' Captain Elyot has seen 'em a'ready, so it wont signify. You don't happen to know if there's any one else your father'd be likely to bring home with him ?"

"There was a Captain-I have forgotten his name. He had charge of the train." "Luttrell, perhaps. He's expected about this time."

"Yes; and there was the wagon-master," Blossom said hesitatingly; "he seemed to be a friend to father."

66

Cogger? They've been back and forth. together a good many years now," the woman said indifferently. "But he wont come, nor Captain Luttrell, if I have my way. way. Thank God, we've done keeping open house, and being at the beck and call of anybody who'd a mind to come. I made 'em a grand supper before your father set out, and told 'em 'twas the last they need look for here. We'll keep to ourselves, now that you've come home. 'Twouldn't be seemly to be having everybody hanging about the house. We'll pick and choose among 'em. And Stubbs may open the store to the rest, if they must have their pipe and their game, and something to wash down their losses. For they do play high sometimes, though it's not for me to say so. Not that it's worse than at any of the other posts," she added with quick caution. "And what can you expect of men who've nothing else to do the most of the time? Whatever'll become

only on the surface after all.

She was detained as she passed through the store. Perhaps the odors from the feast in preparation-savory and growing stronger -had stolen through the fort, for more than one idler dropped in to pay a tribute to Stubbs's popularity, and express a hope that all would go well with the train. They might perhaps look in later in the evening when he had really come, which must be soon now; it would be too dark to follow the trail in an hour. But Mrs. Stubbs was deaf to all such suggestions. She had not prepared her banquet, roasting and broiling over the fire, to serve those who had staid at home. It would be time enough to gather whoever chose to come when her expected guests failed her. So she made but brief answer to all the congratulations over her daughter's coming home. Yes, she was quite recovered, since they were so polite as to ask. But though more than one of the young officers had brushed up his uniform, it was all in vain. No invitation to walk into the parlor they all knew so well followed this cool reply. They began to realize at last that the door of that mild paradise was indeed closed upon them.

Then Mrs. Stubbs hastened away to dress. She laid by the common dark print worn ordinarily, and brought out a highcolored silk of old-fashioned make which

had been folded away for years. Some young ambition, outgrown later, some womanly desire to be dressed like the best of those about her, had given it a place among her stores. It was creased in odd squares from lying folded away and rattled like paper when she shook it out, but she arrayed herself in it with trembling hands. A thoughtless word, never intended to give pain, which Blossom had dropped carelessly about Aunt Julia's tasteful dress, had brought this from its hiding-place. The girl should see that her mother, too, could be fine if she chose. The bright colors heightened her dark beauty. She stood before the glass and smoothed her sleek hair and pinned a

red than usual flushing her brown cheeks at this late consciousness of her good looks. It was years since such a thought had crossed her mind. She was shy of showing herself to Blossom when all was done. What if the girl should laugh at her for her pains! She hesitated at the door of the parlor. There was a flash of warm color in the room as the fire flamed up. Odd, incongruous pieces of furniture were ranged stiffly against the walls. The pipes and the wellstained rickety card-tables, that had been the chief ornaments of the apartment, were gone. The sanded floor was covered now with a gay carpet. The roses upon it bloomed into sudden summer as the firelight touched them. It had all been made gay and ugly in anticipation of Blossom's coming. Comfort had been scared away, and stiff conventional propriety sat bolt upright in the heavy arm-chairs, or propped itself primly upon the high-backed sofa. The girl for whom all this sacrifice had been made-if sacrifice it was-had curled herself upon the hearth-rug within the circle of flickering light, her loose pretty hair making a kind of dusky nimbus about her head. The quiet of the room, broken only by the shrieking wind outside, oppressed her. The forebodings which waiting and listening bring to the stoutest heart began to weigh upon her. There came a cheerful rustle at the door as Mrs. Stubbs in her paper gown stepped into the room. The yellow, dancing light struck the bright colors and stretched up to the handsome crimsoning face under the smooth dark hair. Blossom started as though she had seen a vision.

"How beautiful you are!" she exclaimed, her eyes opening wide, her hands unclasping.

"As fine as your friends t' the states ?" And Mrs. Stubbs laughed a shy, awkward laugh as she busied herself over the fire.

"Oh, much finer," Blossom said gravely. "It was only because she was so good to me and dear, that Aunt Julia was beautiful to look at."

She brought out from its corner one of the heavy old arm-chairs. It squeaked and groaned as she set it before the blaze. It burst out into hideous sprawling flowers as the light touched it, blue and yellow and purple, which the paper gown crushed and covered ruthlessly as Mrs. Stubbs took her place in it. There were companionship and cheer in the fire, though they sat in silence before it. The wind swept around the

house and wailed in the chimney as they waited in silence. All at once there was a tramp of feet outside. Blossom caught her Blossom caught her mother's arm and listened,-her heart still, her lips apart, while the red glow died on the woman's face. A moment and it passed by. It was only the relieving guard. Suddenly in a lull of the wind an icy tap struck the window pane. Mrs. Stubbs started from her seat and hurried to the window. a dozen rods away lay the broad, frozen river, and beyond, the endless stretch of sandy plain. But her eyes, blinded by the fire, saw only the thick darkness shutting them in.

Not

"I must go out," she said half wildly. "I'll be back soon." For her own fears were thrown upon Blossom's face. "Don't be frightened. It's nothing at all. Only I've an errand down to the major's. I forgot it before."

"But, can't Tolee go? The storm has begun."

66

'No, no; I'll go myself," the woman said, putting Blossom by and beginning to wrap a shawl about her head.

"Take me with you, then." It was dreadful to be left alone. What was it her mother feared? Could something have befallen the train? But her father had said that they might not get in till hours later than this,-till morning even. "Do let me go." But her mother would not listen. "I'll be back soon," she said; "keep the fire bright, against they come, and if you mind staying alone you can go to the kitchen." Then she closed the door after her and went out into the night. Yes, the snow was falling. It was that which had struck against the window. The wind still raged. It beat on her head and pulled at her shawl and threw a mocking laugh after her as she struggled on. Already she had forgotten Blossom. She and Stubbs were alone again, in her excited imagination, as they had been before Blossom came to them. Ah, many a dark night with the wind and the wolves howling about her had she waited for him! The snow must have been falling softly for some time. It covered her feet as she pushed through the light drifts. She had known a storm like this to sweep down and bury horses and men from sight. The river would be hidden in an hour. The trail would be lost. A lantern went hurrying by in the darkness. There was the tread of feet, the trample of hoofs muffled by the snow. Others watched as well as she.

She hastened on,-where, or to what

end she hardly knew herself; the snow and sleet struck her face like a stinging hand. There were lights in the windows she passed. From one came a ringing laugh. Let them laugh! Housed safe and warm they had no thought of those who might be lying stiff and stark under the snow or pressing on to their death. There was a faint, answering wail from a distance as the wind shrieked and was still for a moment. Was it the wind, or the call of belated men borne in upon her bewildered ears? Again it came. It was caught up and echoed with a great shout below her. The shawl blew back from her head as, her arms thrown free, she struggled toward the gate. There were voices and cries and lanterns swinging high in air. A dozen mounted figures dashed away with a cheer. Thank God! The wagons were coming in at last!

Blossom went back to the fire where her mother had left her. It was better to be alone than with stupid Tolee in the kitchen. She sat down to wait as patiently as she could. She had no presentiment of harm that could have befallen her father when she had put away the nervous terrors that fluttered about her and gave herself really to consider the subject. Had he not assured her that there was nothing to fear! She remembered now that she was hungry. It might be late before their grand supper was served, if, indeed, it was not spoiled in waiting,-for already a faint alarming scent of burning stole in from the kitchen. She begged a cake of Tolee, who, stupid or ungracious, would have put her off; then she came back to her post to eat it, and listen, and wait. The dancing fire-light made her yawn. In spite of herself she grew drowsy and dozed. It might have been a few moments, it might have been hours, when the wind blew down the chimney with a screech, flapping a sudden gust in her face, putting out the candle she had lighted, and sending the ashes scurrying over the hearth. She sprang up frightened and wideawake. Her mother had not returned. She was still alone. Was she dreaming yet? or were strange confused sounds tossed back and forth outside-a new awakening at the post, like that upon which she had closed her eyes early in the morning? She lit the candle, but before her eager hands could set it in its place, or the shadow had been driven to the corners of the room, these sounds drew near. She flew to throw the door wide open at the tread of feet outside. He must have come! Had she not

said that she would be the first to greet him? All the confused, far-off voices flew into the room as the wet wind struck her face. The long red rays from a lantern swung zigzag on the snow. Voices were calling, shouts replying, a rider galloped by, lights were dancing in the distance. But what was this the men were bearing past her into the

house,-this dragging heavy burden wrapped from sight? And why did her mother follow, weeping and wringing her hands?

The blanket dropped from the dead face, and Blossom fell like a snow-flake where she had stood aside to let them pass. For it was Stubbs-dead, shot through the heart. And this was Blossom's coming home.

THEY were rather an incongruous element amid the festivities, but they bore themselves very well, notwithstanding, and seemed to be sufficiently interested. The elder of the two—a tall, slender, middle-aged woman with a somewhat severe, though delicate face, ―sat quietly apart, looking on at the rough dances and games with a keen relish of their primitive uncouthness, but the younger, a slight alert creature, moved here and there, her large, changeable eyes looking larger through their glow of excite

ment.

"Thet gal thar," drawled a tall mountaineer who supported himself against the chimney and spat with placid regularity into the fire. They tell me thet gal thar hes writ things as has been in print. They say she's powerful smart-arns her livin' by it. T least thet's what Jake Harney says, 'n' they's a-boardin' at Harney's. The old woman's some of her kin, 'n' goes 'long with her when she travels 'round."

There was one fiddler at work sawing industriously at one tune which did good service throughout the entertainment, there was a little furious and erratic reel-dancing and much loud laughter and good-natured, even if somewhat personal, jest. The room was one of two which formed the house, the walls were of log, the lights the cheery yellow flare of great pine-knots flung one after the other upon the embers.

"I am glad I thought of North Carolina," Rebecca Noble said to herself. There is a strong hint of Rembrandt in this-the bright yellow light, the uncouth figures. Ah! who is that?"

A short time after, she made her way through the crowd to her relative's corner among the shadows. She looked eager and excited, and spoke in a quick, breathless fashion.

"I want to show you something, if you VOL. XIV.-43.

have not already seen it," she said. "There is in this room, Aunt Miriam, the most wonderful creature your eyes ever rested on! You must prepare yourself to be startled. Look toward the door-at that tall girl standing with her hands behind her."

She was attired in a calico of flaunting pattern and leaned against the log-wall in an indifferent attitude, regarding the company from under the heavy lashes of her eyes, which had a look of stillness in them which was yet not repose. There was something even secretive in her expression, as if she watched them furtively for reasons of her own. At her side stood a big discontented-looking young man who confronted aggressively two or three other young men equally big, if not equally discontented, who seemed to be arguing some point with him and endeavoring to engage the attention of his companion. The girl, however, simply responded to their appeals with an occasional smile, ambiguous, if not scornful.

"How I wish I could hear them!" exclaimed Miss Noble.

It was her habit to utilize any material she chanced to find, and she had really made her summer jaunt to North Carolina in search of material, but she was not thinking of utilizing this girl as she managed to keep near her during the remainder of the evening. She had merely found some、 thing to be keenly interested in, her interest in any human novelty being, on occasion, intense. In this case her interest increased instead of diminished. She found the girl comporting herself in her natural position as belle, with a calm which was slightly suggestive of "the noble savage." Each admirer seemed to be treated with indifference alike, tnough there were some who, for reasons best known to themselves, evidently felt that they stood more securely than the rest. She moved through game

and dance with a slow yet free grace; she spoke seldom, and in a low, bell-like monotone, containing no hint of any possible emotional development, and for the rest, her shadow of a disdainful smile seemed to stand her in good stead. Clearly as she stood out from among her companions from the first, at the close of the evening she assumed a position actually dramatic.

The big young mountaineer, who, despite his discontent, was a very handsome fellow indeed, had held his own against his rivals stubbornly during the evening, but when, after the final dance, he went in search of his charge, he found that he was not first.

She had fallen into her old attitude against the wall, her hands behind her, and was listening to the appeal of a brawny youth with a hunting-knife in his belt.

"Dusk," he was saying, "I'm not such a chicken-hearted chap as to let a gal go back on me. Ye sed I mout hev yer comp'ny home, 'n' I'm a-gwine to hev it, Dave Humes or no Dave Humes."

Dusk merely smiled tolerantly.
"Are ye?" she said.

Rebecca Noble, who stood within a few feet of them, was sure that the lover who approached was the Dave Humes in question, he advanced with such an angry stride, and laying his hand on his rival's shoulder, turned him aside so cavalierly.

"No he aint," he put in; "not an' me about. I brought ye, an' I'll take ye home, Lodusky, or me and him 'll settle it."

The other advanced a step, looking a trifle pale and disheveled. He placed himself square in front of Lodusky.

"Dusk Dunbar," he said, "you're the one to settle it. Which on us is a-gwine home with ye-me or him? Ye haint promised the two of us, hev ye?" There was certainly a suddenly lit spark of exultation in the girl's coolly dropped eyes.

"Settle it betwixt ye," she answered with her exasperating half-smile again.

They had attracted attention by this 'time, and were becoming the center figures of a group of lookers-on.

The first had evidently lost his temper. She was the one who should settle it, he proclaimed loudly again. She had promised one man her "comp'ny" and had come with another.

There was so much fierce anger in his face that Miss Noble drew a little nearer, and felt her own blood warmed.

"Which on us is it to be?" he cried.

There was a quick, strong movement on the part of the young man, Dave, and he was whirled aside for a second time.

"It's to be me,” he was answered. “I'm the man to settle that-I don't leave it to no gal to settle."

In two seconds the lookers-on fell back in dismay and there was a cry of terror from the women. Two lithe, long-limbed figures were struggling fiercely together and there was a flash of knives in the air. Rebecca Noble sprang forward.

"They will kill each other," she said. "Stop them!"

That they would have done each other deadly injury seemed more than probable, but there were cool heads and hands as strong as their own in the room and in a few minutes they had been dragged apart and stood, each held back by the arms, staring at each other and panting. The lank peace-maker in blue jeans who held Dave Humes shook him gently and with amiable toleration of his folly.

"Look 'ere, boys," he said, "this yere's all a pack of foolishness, ye know—all a pack of foolishness. There aint no sense in it-it's jest foolishness."

Rebecca cast a quick glance at the girl Lodusky. She leaned against the wall just as she had done before; she was as cool as ever though the spark which hinted at exultation still shone steadily in her eye.

When the two ladies reached the logcabin at which they had taken up their abode, they found that the story of the event of the evening was before them. Their hostess, whose habit it was to present herself with erratic talk or information at all hours, met them with hospitable eager

ness.

"Waal now," she began, "jest to think o' them thar fool boys a-lettin' into one another in thet thar way. I never hearn tell o' sich foolishness. Young folks is so foolish. 'N' they drord knives?" This in the tone of suggestive query.

"Yes," answered Miss Noble," they drew knives."

"They did!" benignly. "Lord! What fools! Waal now, an' Dusk-what did Dusk do?"

"She stood by and looked on" was the reply.

"Lord!" with the inimitable mountain drawl; "ye don't say so! But it's jest like her | —thet is. She's so cur'us, Dusk is. Thar aint no gettin' at her. Ye know the gals ses as she's allers doin' fust one quare thing