“There,” said Alison, one day as the girls stood together practicing at the mark, “that’s the best shot yet. I’d like Neal to see that, and I don’t believe he could beat it. Let me have the pistol, Tina, and see if I can do as well with that.” She fired again but this time went wide of the mark. “If that had been an Indian I should only have winged him,” she remarked, “though with the rifle I should have pierced his heart.” “You bloodthirsty little creature,” cried Christine. “I wonder how you would feel if you actually saw one dead at your feet from a shot of yours.” “I don’t know; it would depend upon the aggravation,” returned Alison. “Ugh! I don’t like to think of Indians. I hope I shall never see many. I’ll race you to the house, Lou, and carry the rifle in the bargain. Double-quick, now.” She started the pace and arrived breathless, Louisa close at her heels and Christine following more sedately. “There’s one thing,” said Alison, as she hung up the rifle, “we’ll know how to use these things if ever we need to. Ah, there comes Pedro with some honey; he said he had found a tree.” The queer double gourd which Pedro carried was indeed a receptacle for the honey he had found. Nothing was too good for Alison who had shown such kindness to his daughter, and every day came some new offering. Strange uneatable things sometimes they were, but Alison always accepted them graciously and when she could not eat the, to her, unpalatable cakes made of flour, lard and molasses, she fed them to the pigs and Pedro was never the wiser. On this occasion the honey was very acceptable and served as a fine accompaniment to Louisa’s hot biscuits. Whether it was because of a too great indulgence in these delicacies, or whether it was that she had worked herself up into a state of nervousness by fancying what she really would do if attacked by Indians, certain it was that Alison did not sleep well that night. More than once she turned on her pillow and listened to Christine’s quiet breathing, wishing she too, were sleeping soundly. Every noise seemed exaggerated. Twice she sat up in bed believing she heard something on the roof. A third time she was convinced that there was an unusual commotion among the horses in the stable. Surely it was no fancy. She crept softly from the bed and stole to the window which looked towards the outbuildings. The night was moonless, but by the light of the stars she could distinguish moving forms about the stable door. She hesitated a moment, groped her way towards the bed, paused a second, deciding not to awaken her sister, then she hastily felt for her clothes, slipped into her frock and tiptoed from the room to the adjoining one where Louisa slept. At the whispered word: “Louisa!” the girl sprang up. “What’s the matter?” she asked. “Anybody sick?” “Sh!” returned Alison. “I don’t want to wake Tina, but I believe there are horse thieves down at the stable. Do you dare go with me?” “Go where?”