"Mr. Zane!" cried Helen with pale face.
"I suppose you've always had your own sweet will; but out here on the border you ought to think a little of others, if not of yourself."
Helen maintained a proud silence.
"You might have run right into prowlin' Shawnees."
"That dreadful disaster would not have caused you any sorrow," she flashed out.
"Of course it would. I might have lost my scalp tryin' to get you back home," said Jonathan, beginning to hesitate. Plainly he did not know what to make of this remarkable young woman.
"Such a pity to have lost all your fine hair," she answered with a touch of scorn.
Jonathan flushed, perhaps for the first time in his life. If there was anything he was proud of, it was his long, glossy hair.
"Miss Helen, I'm a poor hand at words," he said, with a pale, grave face. "I was only speakin' for your own good."
"You are exceedingly kind; but need not trouble yourself."