"Yes, I have endeavored to make it a most comfortable home; but let me show you to your room, Lieutenant Carey, for supper will soon be ready." Having taken the officer to the very pleasant guest-chamber in the Bernard home, the host went off in search of his daughter, his face again becoming moody, almost to sullenness. Jennie was just leaving her room, having changed her riding habit for a pretty, though simple dress, and her father asked quickly, and in a stern tone: "Jennie, where did you pick that man up?" "Why, father, are you angry because I brought Lieutenant Carey home with me?" His manner changed, and he said: "Angry? No! but if officers of the army come this near the Indian line trouble will follow surely." "That is just what Lieutenant Carey says, that the Sioux are preparing to strike a terrible blow against the whites, and that you must at once leave home with all of us." "I shall do no such thing, for I will not be harmed by them; but come, let us join the lieutenant and go into supper." Kit Carey found in Mrs. Bernard a woman of refined appearance and cultivated manners, but the moment he laid eyes upon Herbert Bernard he did not like him, and the feeling seemed mutual, for the young settler accused the army of being the cause of all the Indian troubles, and was, at times, almost insulting in his words and manner toward the officer, who, however, appeared not to notice it. No reference was made before the mother and son of the meeting of Kit Carey and Jennie in the presence of Red Hatchet, for the young girl had merely referred to having met the lieutenant on the trail, and had him return home with her. But that night before retiring, when Mrs. Bernard had gone to her room, and Herbert had departed to look after his horses, Kit Carey told the settler of his capture and release of Red Hatchet, while Jennie made known to her father the threat he had made. "The Sioux is a fool to think you would be his wife, Jennie; but he will not carry out his threat, depend upon it, and even if there is a war I will not be disturbed here in my home." "May I ask what your reason is for believing that you and yours will be spared, Mr. Bernard, when others will suffer?" asked Kit Carey. "Simply, sir, that my kindness to the Sioux in the past has made them my friends for all time." "An Indian's friendship, sir, is as brittle as glass, and I beg that you will reconsider your determination to remain here when so much is at stake, and depart on the morrow with your family and belongings." "I shall remain, sir." "You are taking desperate chances, I assure you, in refusing to go." "Still I do refuse," was the firm reply. Kit Carey said no more upon the subject, for he saw that it fretted his host to urge him against his decision to remain. CHAPTER XIV. KIT CAREY ON HIS ROUNDS. After a very early breakfast Kit Carey mounted his horse, and rode away from the cabin of Vance Bernard.