Concerning the young men, of whom there were about a dozen, Helen had
hardly arrived at a conclusion. She liked the ruggedness, the signs of
honest worth which clung to them. Despite her youth, she had been much
sought after because of her personal attractions, and had thus added
experience to the natural keen intuition all women possess. The
glances of several of the men, particularly the bold regard of one
Roger Brandt, whom Colonel Zane introduced, she had seen before, and
learned to dislike. On the whole, however, she was delighted with the
prospect of new friends and future prosperity, and she felt even
greater pleasure in the certainty that her father shared her
gratification.

Suddenly she became aware that the conversation had ceased. She looked
up to see the tall, lithe form of Jonathan Zane as he strode across
the porch. She could see that a certain constraint had momentarily
fallen upon the company. It was an involuntary acknowledgment of the
borderman's presence, of a presence that worked on all alike with a
subtle, strong magnetism.

"Ah, Jonathan, come out to see the sunset? It's unusually fine
to-night," said Colonel Zane.

With hardly more than a perceptible bow to those present, the
borderman took a seat near the rail, and, leaning upon it, directed
his gaze westward.

Helen sat so near she could have touched him. She was conscious of the
same strange feeling, and impelling sense of power, which had come
upon her so strongly at first sight of him. More than that, a lively