When Herbert Bernard left the arbor, after his interview with Jennie, his face was black with passion. His nature, in his disappointment and wounded pride, showed itself at once in his face, and he felt all the revenge of an Indian against the young girl. "She shall marry me, and then I can make her suffer for her refusal, and saying that she hated and despised me," he said. He met his father, and the two held a short interview together. "She shall become my wife, father," said Herbert. "Of course, we cannot think of anything else for an instant; but let me warn you that the girl intends to run off." "Run off?" "Yes." "Where will she go?" "Anywhere, so she leaves here, so you must watch her day and night and prevent it." "I will prevent it, never fear; but did you not expect Red Hatchet here to-day?" "Yes, if that fellow Carey does not head him off from coming." "By which trail was he coming?" "The lower one." "I wish to see him, so will ride out and meet him." "Be careful in all you say and do, my son." "Trust me for that, father," and soon after Herbert Bernard mounted and rode away upon the lower trail, leading in the direction of the Bad Lands, while by the upper one came the courier from Kit Carey, and whom the young man failed to see. For some miles Herbert Bernard rode along, his eyes, like the good frontiersman he was, ever on the alert for a foe, and watching every sign that was visible, for he well knew that there were times when every man might be against him, and in spite of a friendly feeling for the Indians, a prowling brave might open fire upon him from an ambush. Ascending a steep hill, where the pines grew thick, he hitched his horse and began to take an observation of the surrounding country. Here and there were drift patches of snow, but elsewhere the trails were very denty, and far off he saw a cloud arising. It was a dust cloud, and was moving toward his position. That it was made by a party of horsemen he saw at a glance, and he watched it closely as it floated along over the trail, completely hiding the horses that made it. On it came, winding along the trail, around a ravine here, avoiding rugged land there, and so on to the hills. At last the dust cloud floated away, and it left revealed a party of horsemen who suddenly rode out upon harder soil, where there was no light powdered earth to make clouds about them. "They are Indians," he said, with a tone of evident relief, as he recognized their costumes, dark faces, and ponies. "Yes, and that is Red Hatchet in the lead. I am glad of that; but why has he brought so many warriors with him, for he has one, two, three," and he went on counting until he ended with: "Thirty! Now, if he met Carey and his band of Cheyennes, whom I am confident are prowling about here, there would be trouble. Ah! he is going to take the other trail, so I must signal him." As he spoke he threw up a pile of fine straw and stuck a match under it.