THE REFUSAL.

The determined manner in which Jennie Bernard asserted that her father would not remove from his home, and that no Sioux would harm him or his family, surprised Kit Carey immensely.

"May I ask, Miss Bernard, what influence your father holds over the Sioux that he believes he can thus wield them to his will?"

"I only know, sir, that he regards the Indians as his friends, and they look upon him in the same light," was the answer.

"Yet you were not exempt from an attack from them?"

"That is true, yet they were not the representatives of the band."

"Miss Bernard, when an Indian has his war-paint on he is sullen and ferocious, and knows no friendships. Treachery is a virtue in his eyes, gratitude is forgotten, and a scalp of a pale-face, whether it be from an infant, woman, or soldier, is a prize that a redskin will risk his life to obtain. They are as merciless as they are cruel, and if they do not kill their victim he is saved for torture. I know the Indians well, and I tell you plainly you must not trust Red Hatchet, for his intelligence, and having seen considerable of the world away from his people, but renders him the more dangerous. He will destroy your home, kill your parents, and bear you into captivity. Your father must not linger here a day."

Kit Carey spoke with deep earnestness, and Jennie Bernard stretched out her hand, and said, in her frank way:

"I thank you; but I fear he will refuse to go. Here is our home." And she pointed to the log cabin that just then came into view.

It was a succession of cabins rather than one, surrounded by large outbuildings, all neatly whitewashed and fenced in.

A brook ran near, there was a grove of trees, pines predominating, and the spot was a cheery one, the home most inviting.

It was just sunset, and Settler Vance Bernard was pacing up and down the piazza smoking a handsomely carved pipe.

He started as he beheld his daughter's approach, accompanied by an officer, and uttered, in a sullen tone:

"Why has he come here? Ha! it is Kit Carey!"

The man's manner was that of one who was to receive an unwelcome guest.

But as Kit Carey aided Jennie to alight, and the two came upon the piazza, the settler said, pleasantly:

"I was anxious about you, my child, for I knew not that you had a gallant escort."

"A gallant escort, indeed, father. Allow me to present Lieutenant Kit Carey, of whom we have heard so much?"

"Lieutenant Carey, indeed! Can it be possible that I have the honor of welcoming to my home the hero of Fort——?" Vance Bernard extended his hand most cordially, yet with no show of having ever before met the young officer.

Kit Carey was pleased with his cordial reception, and asked:

"Have we not met before, Mr. Bernard?"

"It may be that we have, sir, though I cannot recall the circumstance."

"It is a fancied resemblance then, sir, to some one I have met, though to whom I do not now recall. You have a lovely home here, Mr. Bernard, for the border."

"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.