“I beg your pardon,” said Norris in a tone of contrition. “The word slipped out before I had time to think, for of course it would be ungentlemanly in me to thus stigmatize a friend of yours. But, he is something of a dog in the manger, and seems to arrogate to himself the right to your society, to the complete exclusion of men as good as himself. Let us go back to our book.” “I am tired of it now,” she replied, pushing it aside. “Let me alone, sir; how dare you touch my hand.” “Unintentional, upon my honor, Miss Myrtle. Surely you do not propose to follow our sulky young friend and beg him to come back?” “I ought to do so, but I fear that I am not brave enough, sir. All that I am, as far as education goes, he made me. He has ridden many miles through a hostile country to bring me these books, and now I have driven him away when night is coming on.” “Let me replace him,” he said. “Such beauty as yours need not go begging, and you will do well to trust me; better than you think, if you knew all.” She brushed by him angrily, and made for the door, but he caught her by the wrist to detain her. “Release me, sir!” she cried, the blood mounting into her cheek. “You insult me.” “I think I am going mad indeed,” he replied in a hoarse, strained voice, dropping her hand. “I can not bear to have you leave me for his sake. I never have yielded so completely to woman’s witchery in an hour, and I am thus bold in speaking to you, because I may never have the opportunity. I love you as well as if I had known you for years, and you must listen to me.” “You are perfectly in the right, Mr. Norris, in saying that you are mad, for nothing else could prompt you to speak in this manner. Let me hear no more of it—I beg.” “I do not ask you to love me, now,” he replied earnestly. “Give me a chance; let me show you what I will do for the woman I love; that is all I ask.” “I shall not notice this foolishness upon your part, by telling my father what you have said, sir, for I would not answer for what he would do. But, let me hear no more of it, I beg you. Hush; father is coming back.” He sunk back on a stool, his face absolutely ghastly with intense passion, as the door was flung open and Old Pegs hurried in alone. “Don’t say any thing to me, Myrtle, fur I ain’t in good humer,” he said in an almost angry tone. “I never thought you a flirt before, but ef you drive away Dave Farrell, you drive away the best man in the mount’ins, that’s all I’ve got to say.” “Has he gone?” she said anxiously. “He’s out thar in the pass. And stranger, I warn you to keep out of his way, because he ain’t in a heavenly temper. Hark!” Swift steps were heard, the door was flung open, and Dave rushed into the room, pale and nearly breathless with a long arrow sticking in his shoulder. “Indians!” he gasped. “Get Myrtle out of the way, quick!” CHAPTER IV. WHIRLWIND.