at her neck. She was looking away from him, and he thought her unaware of his scrutiny till she said quietly: "Well, how do you like your new cousin? Do you think I will do?"
"Yes," he stammered, dimly grateful for the impulse that kept her face still turned away; "that is, very much."
"How am I going to get my horse over here," she demanded suddenly.
"What horse?" asked Robert, stupidly.
"The one I rode from Fort Wayne, of course. Did I understand you to say you had been to college?"
"Yes; I graduated."
"Really?" Beatrice turned upon him a dazzling smile. "I never should have thought it," she added pleasantly.
"Where is your horse?" he asked, crimsoning.
"You don't see it anywhere, do you?"
"N – no."
"Then, obviously, it's at the Fort, isn't it?"
"I – I suppose so."
"Well, then, we're making progress. Now, how do I get it over here?"
"Swim," said Robert, helplessly, at his wit's end.
Beatrice stamped her small foot upon the piazza. "Uncle John," she called, "come here! How is Queen coming across the river?" she asked, when he appeared.
"Well, now, Bee, I don't know. There's no bridge and no way to go around. She'll either have to come in a boat or swim."
Robert flashed a grateful glance at him, but said nothing.
"She won't get into a boat," said Beatrice, with a puzzled little frown on her face. "We swam a river together once, but she didn't like it, and we both got wet."
"Go down near the bar and come across," suggested Forsyth, having partially recovered his self-possession. "It can't be very deep there."
"No; but the sand is soft. Better leave her at the Fort, Bee, and you can go over there when you want her. It's safer," he added. "The Indians might get her out of my barn, but she'll be all right in the garrison stables."
"That settles it," replied Beatrice. "Here comes Captain Wells."
An erect, soldierly figure came up the path with the characteristic walk of the Indian. His eyes were small and dark, and his face was bronzed like the people among whom he had lived; but when he smiled at Beatrice and bowed with mock humility, all traces of the savage were instantly effaced. He wore the rough garb of the plainsman, and the only suggestion of vanity was in the black ribbon that tied his queue.
"Mackenzie," he said, "I warn you. You have a tyrannical commander-in-chief."
Beatrice pouted prettily. "I'm sorry for Uncle John," she said; "but it's too late to help him now. I've come for keeps."
All the time he was speaking, Captain Wells's piercing glance was fixed upon Forsyth, to whom he had just been introduced, but of whom he had heard at the Fort, and the young man grew vaguely uncomfortable.
"Your pardon, sir," said Captain Wells. "I fear the manners of the prairie seem strange to a gentleman of culture. My only excuse is that your face interests me."
"Come on over to the Fort, Cousin Rob," suggested Beatrice, with ready tact, "and I'll introduce you to Queen. They don't want us here, anyhow."
Together they climbed into the pirogue in which Captain Wells had crossed the river, and with some difficulty reached the opposite shore. Ronald was standing at the entrance, talking with the sentinel, and when he saw them coming he went toward the barracks with more haste than dignity. Forsyth laughed, but Beatrice held her head high, and a faint flush stole into her cheeks.
"Where are the stables, Cousin Rob?"
"This way."
Robert's involuntary gasp of admiration at the sight of Queen instantly placed him high in his fair cousin's favour. "Isn't she a beauty?" she asked.
The little black mare whinnied joyously at the approach of her young mistress, prancing and curvetting prettily in spite of her halter.
"Poor dear," said Beatrice, "you aren't used to being tied, are you?"
She led the horse out on the parade-ground and exclaimed with pleasure at the satin smoothness of the glossy coat. The grooms had done their work well and stood around, grinning broadly, while she praised them. The mare might have hailed from the blue grass country, so perfect were her lines. She was built for speed as well as beauty, and the small black hoofs pawed the ground impatiently, as she rubbed her velvet nose against her owner's cheek by way of a caress.
"There isn't any sugar, Queen," laughed the girl, "and I just came to say good-morning."
"We'll have some rides on the prairie together," said Robert. "My horse isn't much, compared with yours, but he used to get along pretty well on the roads back East."
"Aren't there any roads here?"
"I haven't discovered any, but the prairie isn't bad."
"Come on out now," said Beatrice, "and I'll show you what she can do."
As they passed the barracks, Robert was dimly aware of Ronald's scrutiny from some safe point of observation; but Beatrice chattered merrily until they reached the open space beyond the Fort.
A convenient stump stood near by and she led the mare to it. "Now then, Beauty," she said. In an instant she was mounted on Queen's bare back, and there ensued an exhibition of horsemanship that would have put a cavalryman to shame. Some of the soldiers came out to see the mare change her gait at a word from her rider, and turn readily with neither bit nor bridle. The pins dropped, one by one, from the girl's hair, and when she turned out on the open plain for a final gallop, it streamed out behind her as Atalanta's may have done when she made her last race.
Beatrice was riding like the wind. She went straight on until she was scarcely a speck upon the horizon, then circled back gradually. Queen was on her mettle, and no dame of high degree ever held her head more proudly than the little black mare with the tossing mane. With a last turn she came toward the Fort straight as an arrow, and stopped so suddenly at the word that she was thrown back upon her haunches.
The girl slipped to the ground, laughing and flushed. "Oh!" she cried, "that was glorious, wasn't it, Queen?"
"I'm proud of my cousin," was all Forsyth said; but there was a volume of meaning in the tone.
A groom led the horse away to be rubbed down, and Beatrice began a fruitless search for the lost hairpins, in which Robert refused to join her. "Don't put it up," he pleaded, "you look so much prettier with it down."
"I can't, anyway," she said. "I haven't a single pin."
The heavy mass of brown and auburn hung far below her waist, rippling ever so slightly, and ending in a curl. A pink flush was on her face and her eyes were dancing. "Come," she continued, "they're talking about me over there, and I know it."
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
