"Ah, Alice, you here?" said he, facing towards her. "I did not know you were abroad--"

It was her brother Warren.

Alice recognised in the "black rascal" no less a personage than Crookleg.

Warren thrust a piece of silver into the negro's hands.

"There, there, that'll do. I'll forgive you this time, but remember!

Now be off with you--be off, I say."

Crookleg, cut short in his attempt to address Alice, hobbled away, muttering some words to himself.

"Why, Warren," asked his sister, "what makes you speak so harshly to poor Crookleg?"

"Because he's a pestilent fellow. I want him to know his place."

"But a kind word doesn't cost much."

"There, sister! no scolding, if you please. I'm not in the best of humours now. Where is your horse?"

Alice told her brother of the incident, and spoke warmly of Carrol.

"So the old hunter did you a good service, did he? I didn't think he had it in him, the old bear."

"How unjust you are, Warren. Bear, indeed! I tell you that Cris Carrol is as good a gentleman as ever lived!"

As she said this she showed signs of indignation.

"Is he, indeed!" was the brother's mocking retort.

"Yes--a thorough gentleman! One who wouldn't wound another's feelings if he could help it--and that's my idea of a gentleman!"

"Well, we won't argue the point. He has done good this time, and that'll go to his credit; for all that, I don't like him!"

Alice bit her lip with vexation, but made no reply.

"He's too officious," continued Warren; "too free with his advice--and I hate advice!"

"Most people do, especially when it is good," quickly answered his sister.

"Who said it was good?"

"I know it is, or you would have liked it, and have followed it."

"You are sarcastic."

"No--truthful."

"Well, as I am in no mode for quarrelling, we'll drop the subject, and Cris Carrol too."

"_You_ may, but I shall never drop him. He is my friend from this time forward!"

"You are welcome to choose your friends--I'll select my own."

"You have done so already."

"What do you mean?"

"That Nelatu, the Indian, seems to be one of them."

"Have you anything against him?"

"Oh, no. I am only afraid he'll be the loser by the intimacy."

"Am I so dangerous?" asked her brother.

"Yes, Warren, you are dangerous, for, with all your pretended goodness, you lack principle. You cannot conceal your real character from me.

Remember, I am your sister."

"I am glad you remind me. I should forget it."

"That's because you avoid me so much. If you believed in my wishes for your welfare, you would not do that."

Her voice trembled as she spoke.

"Indeed, then I beg you won't waste your sympathy on me. I'm perfectly able to take care of myself."

"You think you are."

"Well, have it that way if it pleases you better. But what has this to do with my friendship for the Indian?"

"A great deal. I don't like your intimacy with him. Not because he's an Indian--although that is one reason--but because you have some purpose to serve by it that'll do him no good."

"Why, one would think you were in love with the young copper-skin!"

"No, but they might think he's in love with me."

"What! has he dared--"

"No, he has dared nothing; only a woman's eye can see more than a man's.

Nelatu has never spoken a familiar word to me, but, for all that, I can see that he admires me."

"And you--do you admire him?"

The young girl stopped in her walk.

Her eyes sparkled strangely as she answered--

"Shame, brother, to put such a question! I am a white woman--he is an Indian. How dare you speak of such a thing?"