by Zane Grey
Chapter VII.
Joe felt the heavy lethargy rise from him like the removal of ablanket; his eyes became clear, and he saw the trees and the forestgloom; slowly he realized his actual position.
He was a prisoner, lying helpless among his sleeping captors.Silvertip and the guard had fled into the woods, frightened by theappalling moan which they believed sounded their death-knell. AndJoe believed he might have fled himself had he been free. What couldhave caused that sound? He fought off the numbing chill that onceagain began to creep over him. He was wide-awake now; his head wasclear, and he resolved to retain his senses. He told himself therecould be nothing supernatural in that wind, or wail, or whatever itwas, which had risen murmuring from out the forest-depths.
Yet, despite his reasoning, Joe could not allay his fears. Thatthrilling cry haunted him. The frantic flight of an Indianbrave--nay, of a cunning, experienced chief--was not to be lightlyconsidered. The savages were at home in these untracked wilds.Trained from infancy to scent danger and to fight when they had anequal chance they surely would not run without good cause.
Joe knew that something moved under those dark trees. He had no ideawhat. It might be the fretting night wind, or a stealthy, prowling,soft-footed beast, or a savage alien to these wild Indians, andwilder than they by far. The chirp of a bird awoke the stillness.Night had given way to morning. Welcoming the light that was chasingaway the gloom, Joe raised his head with a deep sigh of relief. Ashe did so he saw a bush move; then a shadow seemed to sink into theground. He had seen an object lighter than the trees, darker thanthe gray background. Again, that strange sense of the nearness ofsomething thrilled him.
Moments, passed--to him long as hours. He saw a tall fern waver andtremble. A rabbit, or perhaps a snake, had brushed it. Other fernsmoved, their tops agitated, perhaps, by a faint breeze. No; thatwavering line came straight toward him; it could not be the wind; itmarked the course of a creeping, noiseless thing. It must be apanther crawling nearer and nearer.
Joe opened his lips to awaken his captors, but could not speak; itwas as if his heart had stopped beating. Twenty feet away the fernswere parted to disclose a white, gleaming face, with eyes thatseemingly glittered. Brawny shoulders were upraised, and then atall, powerful man stood revealed. Lightly he stepped over theleaves into the little glade. He bent over the sleeping Indians.Once, twice, three times a long blade swung high. One braveshuddered another gave a sobbing gasp, and the third moved twofingers--thus they passed from life to death.
"Wetzel!" cried Joe.
"I reckon so," said the deliverer, his deep, calm voice contrastingstrangely with what might have been expected from his aspect. Then,seeing Joe's head covered with blood, he continued: "Able to getup?"
"I'm not hurt," answered Joe, rising when his bonds had been cut.
"Brothers, I reckon?" Wetzel said, bending over Jim.
"Yes, we're brothers. Wake up, Jim, wake up! We're saved!"
"What? Who's that?" cried Jim, sitting up and staring at Wetzel.
"This man has saved our lives! See, Jim, the Indians are dead! And,Jim, it's Wetzel, the hunter. You remember, Jeff Lynn said I'd knowhim if I ever saw him and---"
"What happened to Jeff?" inquired Wetzel, interrupting. He hadturned from Jim's grateful face.
"Jeff was on the first raft, and for all we know he is now safe atFort Henry. Our steersman was shot, and we were captured."
"Has the Shawnee anythin' ag'inst you boys?"
"Why, yes, I guess so. I played a joke on him--took his shirt andput it on another fellow."
"Might jes' as well kick an' Injun. What has he ag'in you?"
"I don't know. Perhaps he did not like my talk to him," answeredJim. "I am a preacher, and have come west to teach the gospel to theIndians."
"They're good Injuns now," said Wetzel, pointing to the prostratefigures.
"How did you find us?" eagerly asked Joe.
"Run acrost yer trail two days back."
"And you've been following us?"
The hunter nodded.
"Did you see anything of another band of Indians? A tall chief andJim Girty were among them."
"They've been arter me fer two days. I was followin' you whenSilvertip got wind of Girty an' his Delawares. The big chief wasWingenund. I seen you pull Girty's nose. Arter the Delawares went Iturned loose yer dog an' horse an' lit out on yer trail.''
"Where are the Delawares now?"
"I reckon there nosin' my back trail. We must be gittin'.Silvertip'll soon hev a lot of Injuns here."
Joe intended to ask the hunter about what had frightened theIndians, but despite his eager desire for information, he refrainedfrom doing so.
"Girty nigh did fer you," remarked Wetzel, examining Joe's wound."He's in a bad humor. He got kicked a few days back, and then hedthe skin pulled offen his nose. Somebody'll hev to suffer. Wal, youfellers grab yer rifles, an' we'll be startin' fer the fort."
Joe shuddered as he leaned over one of the dusky forms to detachpowder and bullet horn. He had never seen a dead Indian, and thetense face, the sightless, vacant eyes made him shrink. He shudderedagain when he saw the hunter scalp his victims. He shuddered thethird time when he saw Wetzel pick up Silvertip's beautiful whiteeagle plume, dabble it in a pool of blood, and stick it in the barkof a tree. Bereft of its graceful beauty, drooping with its goryburden, the long leather was a deadly message. It had beenSilvertip's pride; it was now a challenge, a menace to the Shawneechief.
"Come," said Wetzel, leading the way into the forest.
* * *
Shortly after daylight on the second day following the release ofthe Downs brothers the hunter brushed through a thicket of alder andsaid: "Thar's Fort Henry."
The boys were on the summit of a mountain from which the land slopedin a long incline of rolling ridges and gentle valleys like a green,billowy sea, until it rose again abruptly into a peak higher stillthan the one upon which they stood. The broad Ohio, glistening inthe sun, lay at the base of the mountain.
Upon the bluff overlooking the river, and under the brow of themountain, lay the frontier fort. In the clear atmosphere it stoodout in bold relief. A small, low structure surrounded by a highstockade fence was all, and yet it did not seem unworthy of itsfame. Those watchful, forbidding loopholes, the blackened walls andtimbers, told the history of ten long, bloody years. The wholeeffect was one of menace, as if the fort sent out a defiance to thewilderness, and meant to protect the few dozen log cabins clusteredon the hillside.
"How will we ever get across that big river?" asked Jim,practically.
"Wade--swim," answered the hunter, laconically, and began thedescent of the ridge. An hour's rapid walking brought the three tothe river. Depositing his rifle in a clump of willows, and directingthe boys to do the same with their guns, the hunter splashed intothe water. His companions followed him into the shallow water, andwaded a hundred yards, which brought them near the island that theynow perceived hid the fort. The hunter swam the remaining distance,and, climbing the bank, looked back for the boys. They were closebehind him. Then he strode across the island, perhaps a quarter of amile wide.
"We've a long swim here," said Wetzel, waving his hand toward themain channel of the river. "Good fer it?" he inquired of Joe, sinceJim had not received any injuries during the short captivity andconsequently showed more endurance.
"Good for anything," answered Joe, with that coolness Wetzel hadbeen quick to observe in him.
The hunter cast a sharp glance at the lad's haggard face, hisbruised temple, and his hair matted with blood. In that look he readJoe thoroughly. Had the young man known the result of that scrutiny,he would have been pleased as well as puzzled, for the hunter hadsaid to himself: "A brave lad, an' the border fever's on him."
"Swim close to me," said Wetzel, and he plunged into the river. Thetask was accomplished without accident.
"See the big cabin, thar, on the hillside? Thar's Colonel Zane inthe door," said Wetzel.
As they neared the building several men joined the one who had beenpointed out as the colonel. It was evident the boys were the subjectof their conversation. Presently Zane left the group and came towardthem. The brothers saw a handsome, stalwart man, in the prime oflife.
"Well, Lew, what luck?" he said to Wetzel.
"Not much. I treed five Injuns, an' two got away," answered thehunter as he walked toward the fort.
"Lads, welcome to Fort Henry," said Colonel Zane, a smile lightinghis dark face. "The others of your party arrived safely. Theycertainly will be overjoyed to see you."
"Colonel Zane, I had a letter from my uncle to you," replied Jim;"but the Indians took that and everything else we had with us."
"Never mind the letter. I knew your uncle, and your father, too.Come into the house and change those wet clothes. And you, my lad,have got an ugly knock on the head. Who gave you that?"
"Jim Girty."
"What?" exclaimed the colonel.
"Jim Girty did that. He was with a party of Delawares who ran acrossus. They were searching for Wetzel."
"Girty with the Delawares! The devil's to pay now. And you sayhunting Wetzel? I must learn more about this. It looks bad. But tellme, how did Girty come to strike you?"
"I pulled his nose."
"You did? Good! Good!" cried Colonel Zane, heartily. "By George,that's great! Tell me--but wait until you are more comfortable. Yourpacks came safely on Jeff's raft, and you will find them inside."
As Joe followed the colonel he heard one of the other men say:
"Like as two peas in a pod."
Farther on he saw an Indian standing a little apart from the others.Hearing Joe's slight exclamation of surprise, he turned, disclosinga fine, manly countenance, characterized by calm dignity. The Indianread the boy's thought.
"Ugh! Me friend," he said in English.
"That's my Shawnee guide, Tomepomehala. He's a good fellow, althoughJonathan and Wetzel declare the only good Indian is a dead one. Comeright in here. There are your packs, and you'll find water outsidethe door."
Thus saying, Colonel Zane led the brothers into a small room,brought out their packs, and left them. He came back presently witha couple of soft towels.
"Now you lads fix up a bit; then come out and meet my family andtell us all about your adventure. By that time dinner will beready."
"Geminy! Don't that towel remind you of home?" said Joe, when thecolonel had gone. "From the looks of things, Colonel Zane means tohave comfort here in the wilderness. He struck me as being a fineman."
The boys were indeed glad to change the few articles of clothing theIndians had left them, and when they were shaved and dressed theypresented an entirely different appearance. Once more they were twinbrothers, in costume and feature. Joe contrived, by brushing hishair down on his forehead, to conceal the discolored bump.
"I think I saw a charming girl," observed Joe.
"Suppose you did--what then?" asked Jim, severely.
"Why--nothing--see here, mayn't I admire a pretty girl if I want?"
"No, you may not. Joe, will nothing ever cure you? I should thinkthe thought of Miss Wells---"
"Look here, Jim; she don't care--at least, it's very little shecares. And I'm--I'm not worthy of her."
"Turn around here and face me," said the young minister sharply.
Joe turned and looked in his brother's eyes.
"Have you trifled with her, as you have with so many others? Tellme. I know you don't lie."
"No."
"Then what do you mean?"
"Nothing much, Jim, except I'm really not worthy of her. I'm nogood, you know, and she ought to get a fellow like--like you."
"Absurd! You ought to be ashamed of yourself."
"Never mind me. See here; don't you admire her?"
"Why--why, yes," stammered Jim, flushing a dark, guilty red at thedirect question. "Who could help admiring her?"
"That's what I thought. And I know she admires you for qualitieswhich I lack. Nell's like a tender vine just beginning to creeparound and cling to something strong. She cares for me; but her loveis like the vine. It may hurt her a little to tear that love away,but it won't kill her; and in the end it will be best for her. Youneed a good wife. What could I do with a woman? Go in and win her,Jim."
"Joe, you're sacrificing yourself again for me," cried Jim, white tothe lips. "It's wrong to yourself and wrong to her. I tell you---"
"Enough!" Joe's voice cut in cold and sharp. "Usually you influenceme; but sometimes you can't; I say this: Nell will drift into yourarms as surely as the leaf falls. It will not hurt her--will be bestfor her. Remember, she is yours for the winning."
"You do not say whether that will hurt you," whispered Jim.
"Come--we'll find Colonel Zane," said Joe, opening the door.
They went out in the hallway which opened into the yard as well asthe larger room through which the colonel had first conducted them.As Jim, who was in advance, passed into this apartment a trim figureentered from the yard. It was Nell, and she ran directly againsthim. Her face was flushed, her eyes were beaming with gladness, andshe seemed the incarnation of girlish joy.
"Oh, Joe," was all she whispered. But the happiness and welcome inthat whisper could never have been better expressed in longerspeech. Then slightly, ever so slightly, she tilted her sweet faceup to his.
It all happened with the quickness of thought. In a single instantJim saw the radiant face, the outstretched hands, and heard the gladwhisper. He knew that she had a again mistaken him for Joe; but forhis life he could not draw back his head. He had kissed her, andeven as his lips thrilled with her tremulous caress he flushed withthe shame of his deceit.
"You're mistaken again--I'm Jim," he whispered.
For a moment they stood staring into each other's eyes, slowlyawakening to what had really happened, slowly conscious of a sweet,alluring power. Then Colonel Zane's cheery voice rang in their ears.
"Ah, here's Nellie and your brother! Now, lads, tell me which iswhich?'
"That's Jim, and I'm Joe," answered the latter. He appeared not tonotice his brother, and his greeting to Nell was natural and hearty.For the moment she drew the attention of the others from them.
Joe found himself listening to the congratulations of a number ofpeople. Among the many names he remembered were those of Mrs. Zane,Silas Zane, and Major McColloch. Then he found himself gazing at themost beautiful girl he had ever seen in his life.
"My only sister, Mrs. Alfred Clarke--once Betty Zane, and theheroine of Fort Henry," said Colonel Zane proudly, with his armaround the slender, dark-eyed girl.
"I would brave the Indians and the wilderness again for thispleasure," replied Joe gallantly, as he bowed low over the littlehand she cordially extended.
"Bess, is dinner ready?" inquired Colonel Zane of his comely wife.She nodded her head, and the colonel led the way into the adjoiningroom. "I know you boys must be hungry as bears."
During the meal Colonel Zane questioned his guests about theirjourney, and as to the treatment they had received at the hands ofthe Indians. He smiled at the young minister's earnestness in regardto the conversion of the redmen, and he laughed outright when Joesaid "he guessed he came to the frontier because it was too slow athome."
"I am sure your desire for excitement will soon be satisfied, ifindeed it be not so already," remarked the colonel. "But as to therealization of your brother's hopes I am not so sanguine.Undoubtedly the Moravian missionaries have accomplished wonders withthe Indians. Not long ago I visited the Village of Peace--the Indianname for the mission--and was struck by the friendliness andindustry which prevailed there. Truly it was a village of peace. Yetit is almost to early to be certain of permanent success of thiswork. The Indian's nature is one hard to understand. He is naturallyroving and restless, which, however, may be owing to his habit ofmoving from place to place in search of good hunting grounds. Ibelieve--though I must confess I haven't seen any pioneers who sharemy belief--that the savage has a beaut
iful side to his character. Iknow of many noble deeds done by them, and I believe, if they arehonestly dealt with, they will return good for good. There are badones, of course; but the French traders, and men like the Girtys,have caused most of this long war. Jonathan and Wetzel tell me theShawnees and Chippewas have taken the warpath again. Then the factthat the Girtys are with the Delawares is reason for alarm. We havebeen comparatively quiet here of late. Did you boys learn to whattribe your captors belong? Did Wetzel say?"
"He did not; he spoke little, but I will say he was exceedinglyactive," answered Joe, with a smile.
"To have seen Wetzel fight Indians is something you are not likelyto forget," said Colonel Zane grimly. "Now, tell me, how did thoseIndians wear their scalp-lock?"
"Their heads were shaved closely, with the exception of a littleplace on top. The remaining hair was twisted into a tuft, tiedtightly, and into this had been thrust a couple of painted pins.When Wetzel scalped the Indians the pins fell out. I picked one up,and found it to be bone."
"You will make a woodsman, that's certain," replied Colonel Zane."The Indians were Shawnee on the warpath. Well, we will not borrowtrouble, for when it comes in the shape of redskins it usually comesquickly. Mr. Wells seemed anxious to resume the journey down theriver; but I shall try to persuade him to remain with us awhile.Indeed, I am sorry I cannot keep you all here at Fort Henry, andmore especially the girls. On the border we need young people, and,while I do not want to frighten the women, I fear there will be morethan Indians fighting for them."
"I hope not; but we have come prepared for anything," said Kate,with a quiet smile. "Our home was with uncle, and when he announcedhis intention of going west we decided our duty was to go with him."
"You were right, and I hope you will find a happy home," rejoinedColonel Zane. "If life among the Indians, proves to be too hard, weshall welcome you here. Betty, show the girls your pets and Indiantrinkets. I am going to take the boys to Silas' cabin to see Mr.Wells, and then show them over the fort."
As they went out Joe saw the Indian guide standing in exactly thesame position as when they entered the building.
"Can't that Indian move?" he asked curiously.
"He can cover one hundred miles in a day, when he wants to," repliedColonel Zane. "He is resting now. An Indian will often stand or sitin one position for many hours."
"He's a fine-looking chap," remarked Joe, and then to himself: "butI don't like him. I guess I'm prejudiced."
"You'll learn to like Tome, as we call him."
"Colonel Zane, I want a light for my pipe. I haven't had a smokesince the day we were captured. That blamed redskin took my tobacco.It's lucky I had some in my other pack. I'd like to meet him again;also Silvertip and that brute Girty."
"My lad, don't make such wishes," said Colonel Zane, earnestly. "Youwere indeed fortunate to escape, and I can well understand yourfeelings. There is nothing I should like better than to see Girtyover the sights of my rifle; but I never hunt after danger, and tolook for Girty is to court death."
"But Wetzel---"
"Ah, my lad, I know Wetzel goes alone in the woods; but then, he isdifferent from other men. Before you leave I will tell you all abouthim."
Colonel Zane went around the corner of the cabin and returned with alive coal on a chip of wood, which Joe placed in the bowl of hispipe, and because of the strong breeze stepped close to the cabinwall. Being a keen observer, he noticed many small, round holes inthe logs. They were so near together that the timbers had an odd,speckled appearance, and there was hardly a place where he couldhave put his thumb without covering a hole. At first he thought theywere made by a worm or bird peculiar to that region; but finally lieconcluded that they were bullet-holes. He thrust his knife bladeinto one, and out rolled a leaden ball.
"I'd like to have been here when these were made," he said.
"Well, at the time I wished I was back on the Potomac," repliedColonel Zane.
They found the old missionary on the doorstep of the adjacent cabin.He appeared discouraged when Colonel Zane interrogated him, and saidthat he was impatient because of the delay.
"Mr. Wells, is it not possible that you underrate the danger of yourenterprise?"
"I fear naught but the Lord," answered the old man.
"Do you not fear for those with you?" went on the colonel earnestly."I am heart and soul with you in your work, but want to impress uponyou that the time is not propitious. It is a long journey to thevillage, and the way is beset with dangers of which you have noidea. Will you not remain here with me for a few weeks, or, atleast, until my scouts report?"
"I thank you; but go I will."
"Then let me entreat you to remain here a few days, so that I maysend my brother Jonathan and Wetzel with you. If any can guide yousafely to the Village of Peace it will be they."
At this moment Joe saw two men approaching from the fort, andrecognized one of them as Wetzel. He doubted not that the other wasLord Dunmore's famous guide and hunter, Jonathan Zane. In featureshe resembled the colonel, and was as tall as Wetzel, although not somuscular or wide of chest.
Joe felt the same thrill he had experienced while watching thefrontiersmen at Fort Pitt. Wetzel and Jonathan spoke a word toColonel Zane and then stepped aside. The hunters stood lithe anderect, with the easy, graceful poise of Indians.
"We'll take two canoes, day after to-morrow," said Jonathan,decisively, to Colonel Zane. "Have you a rifle for Wetzel? TheDelawares got his."
Colonel Zane pondered over the question; rifles were not scarce atthe fort, but a weapon that Wetzel would use was hard to find.
"The hunter may have my rifle," said the old missionary. "I have nouse for a weapon with which to destroy God's creatures. My brotherwas a frontiersman; he left this rifle to me. I remember hearing himsay once that if a man knew exactly the weight of lead and powderneeded, it would shoot absolutely true."
He went into the cabin, and presently came out with a long objectwrapped in linsey cloths. Unwinding the coverings, he brought toview a rifle, the proportions of which caused Jonathan's eyes toglisten, and brought an exclamation from Colonel Zane. Wetzelbalanced the gun in his hands. It was fully six feet long; thebarrel was large, and the dark steel finely polished; the stock wasblack walnut, ornamented with silver trimmings. Using Jonathan'spowder-flask and bullet-pouch, Wetzel proceeded to load the weapon.He poured out a quantity of powder into the palm of his hand,performing the action quickly and dexterously, but was so slow whilemeasuring it that Joe wondered if he were counting the grains. Nexthe selected a bullet out of a dozen which Jonathan held toward him.He examined it carefully and tried it in the muzzle of the rifle.Evidently it did not please him, for he took another. Finally hescraped a bullet with his knife, and placing it in the center of asmall linsey rag, deftly forced it down. He adjusted the flint,dropped a few grains of powder in the pan, and then looked aroundfor a mark at which to shoot.
Joe observed that the hunters and Colonel Zane were as seriousregarding the work as if at that moment some important issuedepended upon the accuracy of the rifle.
"There, Lew; there's a good shot. It's pretty far, even for you,when you don't know the gun," said Colonel Zane, pointing toward theriver.
Joe saw the end of a log, about the size of a man's head, stickingout of the water, perhaps an hundred and fifty yards distant. Hethought to hit it would be a fine shot; but was amazed when he heardColonel Zane say to several men who had joined the group that Wetzelintended to shoot at a turtle on the log. By straining his eyes Joesucceeded in distinguishing a small lump, which he concluded was theturtle.
Wetzel took a step forward; the long, black rifle was raised with astately sweep. The instant it reached a level a thread of flameburst forth, followed by a peculiarly clear, ringing report.
"Did he hit?" asked Colonel Zane, eagerly as a boy.
"I allow he did," answered Jonathan.
"I'll go and see," said Joe. He ran down the bank, along the beach,and stepped on the log. He saw a turtle
about the size of anordinary saucer. Picking it up, he saw a bullet-hole in the shellnear the middle. The bullet had gone through the turtle, and it wasquite dead. Joe carried it to the waiting group.
"I allowed so," declared Jonathan.
Wetzel examined the turtle, and turning to the old missionary, said:
"Your brother spoke the truth, an' I thank you fer the rifle."