and he'll take to the frontier like a duck does to water. I'm sorry you'll not
tarry here awhile. We don't see many lasses, especially any as pretty as you,

and you'll find it more quiet and lonesome the farther West you get. Jake
knows all about Fort Henry, and Jeff Lynn, the hunter outside, he knows Eb and

Jack Zane, and Wetzel, and all those Fort Henry men. You'll be gettin' married
out there, won't you?"

"You are--quite wrong," said Nell, who all the while Mrs. Wentz was speaking
grew rosier and rosier. "We're not anything---"

Then Nell hesitated and finally ceased speaking. She saw that denials or
explanations were futile; the simple woman had seen the kiss, and formed her

own conclusions. During the few days Nell had spent at Fort Pitt, she had come
to understand that the dwellers on the frontier took everything as a matter of

course. She had seen them manifest a certain pleasure; but neither surprise,
concern, nor any of the quick impulses so common among other people. And this

was another lesson Nell took to heart. She realized that she was entering upon
a life absolutely different from her former one, and the thought caused her to

shrink from the ordeal. Yet all the suggestions regarding her future home;
the stories told about Indians, renegades, and of the wild border-life,

fascinated her. These people who had settled in this wild region were simple,
honest and brave; they accepted what came as facts not to be questioned, and

believed what looked true. Evidently the fur-trader's wife and her female
neighbors had settled in their minds the relation in which the girl stood to

Joe.
This latter reflectionheightened Nell's resentment toward her lover. She

stood with her face turned away from Mrs. Wentz; the little frown deepened,
and she nervously tapped her foot on the floor.

"Where is my sister?" she presently asked.
"She went to see the wagon-train come in. Everybody's out there."

Nell deliberated a moment and then went into the open air. She saw a number of
canvas-covered wagons drawn up in front of the cabins; the vehicles were dusty

and the wheels encrusted with yellow mud. The grizzled frontiersman who had
smiled at Nell stood leaning on his gun, talking to three men, whose

travel-stained and worn homespun clothes suggested a long and toilsome
journey. There was the bustle of excitementincident to the arrival of

strangers; to the quick exchange of greetings, the unloading of wagons and
unharnessing of horses and oxen.

Nell looked here and there for her sister. Finally she saw her standing near
her uncle while he conversed with one of the teamsters. The girl did not

approach them; but glanced quickly around in search of some one else. At
length she saw Joe unloading goods from one of the wagons; his back was turned

toward her, but she at once recognized the challenge conveyed by the broad
shoulders. She saw no other person; gave heed to nothing save what was to her,

righteous indignation.
Hearing her footsteps, the young man turned, glancing at her admiringly, said:

"Good evening, Miss."
Nell had not expected such a matter-of-fact greeting from Joe. There was not

the slightest trace of repentance in his calm face, and he placidly continued
his labor.

"Aren't you sorry you--you treated me so?" burst out Nell.
His coolness was exasperating. Instead of the contrition and apology she had

expected, and which was her due, he evidently intended to tease her, as he had
done so often.

The young man dropped a blanket and stared.
"I don't understand," he said, gravely. "I never saw you before."

This was too much for quick-tempered Nell. She had had some vague idea of
forgiving him, after he had sued sufficiently for pardon; but now, forgetting

her good intentions in the belief that he was making sport of her when he
should have pleaded for forgiveness, she swiftly raised her hand and slapped

him smartly.
The red blood flamed to the young man's face; as he staggered backward with

his hand to his cheek, she heard a smothered exclamation behind her, and then
the quick, joyous barking of a dog.

When Nell turned she was amazed to see Joe standing beside the wagon, while a
big white dog was leaping upon him. Suddenly she felt faint. Bewildered, she

looked from Joe to the man she had just struck; but could not say which was
the man who professed to love her.

"Jim! So you followed me!" cried Joe, starting forward and flinging his arms
around the other.

"Yes, Joe, and right glad I am to find you," answered the young man, while a
peculiar expression of pleasure came over his face.

"It's good to see you again! And here's my old dog Mose! But how on earth did
you know? Where did you strike my trail? What are you going to do out here on

the frontier? Tell me all. What happened after I left---"
Then Joe saw Nell standing nearby, pale and distressed, and he felt something

was amiss. He glanced quickly from her to his brother; she seemed to be dazed,
and Jim looked grave.

"What the deuce--? Nell, this is my brother Jim, the I told you about. Jim,
this is my friend, Miss Wells."

"I am happy to meet Miss Wells," said Jim, with a smile, "even though she did
slap my face for nothing."

"Slapped you? What for?" Then the truth dawned on Joe, and he laughed until
the tears came into his eyes. "She took you for me! Ha, ha, ha! Oh, this is

great!"
Nell's face was now rosy red and moisture glistened in her eyes; but she tried

bravely to stand her ground. Humiliation had taken the place of anger.
"I--I--am sorry, Mr. Downs. I did take you for him. He--he has insulted me."

Then she turned and ran into the cabin.
Chapter II.

Joe and Jim were singularly alike. They were nearly the same size, very tall,
but so heavily built as to appear of mediumheight, while their grey eyes and,

indeed, every feature of their clean-cut faces corresponded so exactly as to
proclaim them brothers.

"Already up to your old tricks?" asked Jim, with his hand on Joe's shoulder,
as they both watched Nell's flight.

"I'm really fond of her, Jim, and didn't mean to hurt her feelings. But tell
me about yourself; what made you come West?"

"To teach the Indians, and I was, no doubt, strongly influenced by your being
here."

"You're going to do as you ever have--make some sacrifice. You are always
devoting yourself; if not to me, to some other. Now it's your life you're

giving up. To try to convert the redskins and influence me for good is in both
cases impossible. How often have I said there wasn't any good in me! My desire

is to kill Indians, not preach to them, Jim. I'm glad to see you; but I wish
you hadn't come. This wild frontier is no place for a preacher."

"I think it is," said Jim, quietly.
"What of Rose--the girl you were to marry?"

Joe glanced quickly at his brother. Jim's face paled slightly as he turned
away.

"I'll speak once more of her, and then, never again," he answered. "You knew
Rose better than I did. Once you tried to tell me she was too fond of

admiration, and I rebuked you; but now I see that your wider experience of
women had taught you things I could not then understand. She was untrue. When

you left Williamsburg, apparently because you had gambled with Jewett and
afterward fought him, I was not misled. You made the game of cards a pretense;

you sought it simply as an opportunity to wreak your vengeance on him for his
villainy toward me. Well, it's all over now. Though you cruelly beat and left

him disfigured for life, he will live, and you are saved from murder, thank
God! When I learned of your departure I yearned to follow. Then I met a

preacher who spoke of having intended to go West with a Mr. Wells, of the
Moravian Mission. I immediately said I would go in his place, and here I am.

I'm fortunate in that I have found both him and you."
"I'm sorry I didn't kill Jewett; I certainly meant to. Anyway, there's some

comfort in knowing I left my mark on him. He was a sneaking, cold-blooded
fellow, with his white hair and pale face, and always fawning round the girls.

I hated him, and gave it to him good." Joe spoke musingly and complacently as
though it was a trivial thing to compass the killing of a man.

"Well, Jim, you're here now, and there's no help for it. We'll go along with
this Moravian preacher and his nieces. If you haven't any great regrets for