She had hit upon the truth, for the Mackenzies were having an animated conference with Captain Wells. "I never suspected there was any trouble," he was saying, "and she didn't mention it. She was waiting for us a piece up the trail, and two men with her were carrying her box. She said she was coming, so the soldiers took her things and she rode with me. "As she told you, they probably know it now, but I'll see them the first thing when I go back and explain. They'll be glad to know she's safe. She's as skittish a filly as I've ever laid eyes on--she won't wear a bit, nor stand; and that little black devil that she rides is made out of the same kind of timber. The two of them will have the settlement by the ears inside of a month--you wait and see." Beatrice appeared at this juncture and pointed a rosy finger at Captain Wells. "Perjurer!" she laughed. "You've been taking my character away from me!" "I never tell anything but the truth, Miss," returned the Captain, awkwardly. "Are you going back with me this afternoon?" "I told you once," she answered, "that I was going to live with Aunt Eleanor. I'm never going to Fort Wayne again!" "Do you want me to take a letter or a message to your people?" "No!" cried Beatrice, with her eyes blazing. "If you dare to mention me to them, or say I sent any kind of a message, I'll--I'll haunt you!" The Captain went out, murmuring confused apologies; and Robert, feeling himself in the way, went to his room. The moccasins hanging on the wall gave him a vivid moment of self-knowledge. The dainty, arched foot he had seen for the first time when Beatrice stamped on the piazza, might easily have been the one for which the moccasins were made. He stroked the pretty things caressingly, with a soft light in his eyes. "I knew she was coming," he said to himself; "but how did I know?" In the afternoon, Mackenzie and the officers rode a little way on the Fort Wayne trail with Captain Wells, who was charged with many letters and messages for friends there, and Beatrice watched the start from the window of the living-room. "Who's that, Aunt Eleanor, riding beside Uncle John?" "Captain Franklin, in command of the Fort." "And who's the mean-looking one, twisting his mustache?" "Lieutenant Howard, dear--Katherine's husband." "Oh!" said Beatrice, quickly. "Aren't they happy together?" There was a long silence. "Not very happy, I'm afraid," sighed Mrs. Mackenzie. "I'm sorry," said the girl, with genuine sympathy. "Do you think I could help in any way?" "I don't know, Bee--I wish you could. You will be company for Katherine, and perhaps you can make it easier for her, in some ways, if you try." "Poor Cousin Kit! Of course I'll try! Look, Aunty," she said, abruptly pointing to a belated rider who was galloping to overtake the others. He had his cap in his hand, and his yellow hair was blowing in the wind. "That's the big boy I scared. Is he married?"