the spirit of the border-第26节

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liking　to　the　young　man　when　he　led　the　brothers　to　Fort　Henry。　Subsequent

events　strengthened　his　liking；　and　now；　many　days　after；　Joe　having　followed

him　into　the　forest；　a　strong　attachment　had　been　insensibly　forged　between

them。



Wetzel　understood　Joe's　burning　desire　to　roam　the　forests；　but　he　half

expected　the　lad　would　soon　grow　tired　of　this　roving　life；　but　exactly　the

opposite　symptoms　were　displayed。　The　hunter　had　intended　to　take　his　comrade

on　a　hunting　trip；　and　to　return　with　him；　after　that　was　over；　to　Fort　Henry。

They　had　now　been　in　the　woods　for　weeks　and　every　day　in　some　way　had　Joe

showed　his　mettle。　Wetzel　finally　admitted　him　into　the　secrets　of　his　most

cherished　hiding　place。　He　did　not　want　to　hurt　the　lad's　feelings　by　taking

him　back　to　the　settlement；　he　could　not　send　him　back。　So　the　days　wore　on

swiftly；　full　of　heart…satisfying　incident　and　life；　with　man　and　boy　growing

closer　in　an　intimacy　that　was　as　warm　as　it　was　unusual。



Two　reasons　might　account　for　this：　First；　there　is　no　sane　human　being　who　is

not　better　off　for　companionship。　An　exile　would　find　something　of　happiness

in　one　who　shared　his　misery。　And；　secondly；　Joe　was　a　most　acceptable

comrade；　even　for　a　slayer　of　Indians。　Wedded　as　Wetzel　was　to　the　forest

trails；　to　his　lonely　life；　to　the　Nemesis…pursuit　he　had　followed　for

eighteen　long　years；　he　was　still　a　white　man；　kind　and　gentle　in　his　quiet

hours；　and　because　of　this；　though　he　knew　it　not；　still　capable　of　affection。

He　had　never　known　youth；　his　manhood　had　been　one　pitiless　warfare　against

his　sworn　foes；　but　once　in　all　those　years　had　his　sore；　cold　heart　warmed；

and　that　was　toward　a　woman　who　was　not　for　him。　His　life　had　held　only　one

purposea　bloody　one。　Yet　the　man　had　a　heart；　and　he　could　not　prevent　it

from　responding　to　another。　In　his　simple　ignorance　he　rebelled　against　this

affection　for　anything　other　than　his　forest　homes。　Man　is　weak　against　hate；

what　can　he　avail　against　love？　The　dark　caverns　of　Wetzel's　great　heart

opened；　admitting　to　their　gloomy　depths　this　stranger。　So　now　a　new　love　was

born　in　that　cheerless　heart；　where　for　so　long　a　lonely　inmate；　the　ghost　of

old　love；　had　dwelt　in　chill　seclusion。



The　feeling　of　comradeship　which　Wetzel　had　for　Joe　was　something　altogether

new　in　the　hunter's　life。　True　he　had　hunted　with　Jonathan　Zane；　and

accompanied　expeditions　where　he　was　forced　to　sleep　with　another　scout；　but　a

companion；　not　to　say　friend；　he　had　never　known。　　Joe　was　a　boy；　wilder　than

an　eagle；　yet　he　was　a　man。　He　was　happy　and　enthusiastic；　still　his　good

spirits　never　jarred　on　the　hunter；　they　were　restrained。　He　never　asked

questions；　as　would　seem　the　case　in　any　eager　lad；　he　waited　until　he　was

spoken　to。　He　was　apt；　he　never　forgot　anything；　he　had　the　eye　of　a　born

woodsman；　and　lastly；　perhaps　what　went　far　with　Wetzel；　he　was　as　strong　and

supple　as　a　young　lynx；　and　absolutely　fearless。



On　this　evening　Wetzel　and　Joe　followed　their　usual　custom；　they　smoked　a

while　before　lying　down　to　sleep。　Tonight　the　hunter　was　even　more　silent　than

usual；　and　the　lad；　tired　out　with　his　day's　tramp；　lay　down　on　a　bed　of

fragrant　boughs。



Wetzel　sat　there　in　the　gathering　gloom　while　he　pulled　slowly　on　his　pipe。　

The　evening　was　very　quiet；　the　birds　had　ceased　their　twittering；　the　wind

had　died　away；　it　was　too　early　for　the　bay　of　a　wolf；　the　wail　of　a　panther；

or　hoot　of　an　owl；　there　was　simply　perfect　silence。



The　lad's　deep；　even　breathing　caught　Wetzel's　ear；　and　he　found　himself

meditating；　as　he　had　often　of　late；　on　this　new　something　that　had　crept　into

his　life。　For　Joe　loved　him；　he　could　not　fail　to　see　that。　The　lad　had

preferred　to　roam　with　the　lonely　Indian…hunter　through　the　forests；　to

encounter　the　perils　and　hardships　of　a　wild　life；　rather　than　accept　the

smile　of　fortune　and　of　love。　Wetzel　knew　that　Colonel　Zane　had　taken　a　liking

to　the　boy；　and　had　offered　him　work　and　a　home；　and；　also；　the　hunter

remembered　the　warm　light　he　had　seen　in　Nell's　hazel　eyes。　Musing　thus；　the

man　felt　stir　in　his　heart　an　emotion　so　long　absent　that　it　was　unfamiliar。　

The　Avenger　forgot；　for　a　moment　his　brooding　plans。　He　felt　strangely

softened。　When　he　laid　his　head　on　the　rude　pillow　it　was　with　some　sense　of

gladness　that；　although　he　had　always　desired　a　lonely　life；　and　wanted　to

pass　it　in　the　fulfillment　of　his　vow；　his　loneliness　was　now　shared　by　a　lad

who　loved　him。



Joe　was　awakened　by　the　merry　chirp　of　a　chipmunk　that　every　morning　ran　along

the　seamy　side　of　the　opposite　wall　of　the　gorge。　Getting　up；　he　went　to　the

back　of　the　cave；　where　he　found　Wetzel　combing　out　his　long　hair。　The　lad

thrust　his　hands　into　the　cold　pool；　and　bathed　his　face。　　The　water　was　icy

cold；　and　sent　an　invigorating　thrill　through　him。　Then　he　laughed　as　he　took

a　rude　comb　Wetzel　handed　to　him。



〃My　scalp　is　nothing　to　make　an　Indian　very　covetous；　is　it？〃　said　he；　eyeing

in　admiration　the　magnificent　black　hair　that　fell　over　the　hunter's

shoulders。



〃It'll　grow；〃　answered　Wetzel。



Joe　did　not　wonder　at　the　care　Wetzel　took　of　his　hair；　nor　did　he

misunderstand　the　hunter's　simple　pride。　Wetzel　was　very　careful　of　his　rifle；

he　was　neat　and　clean　about　his　person；　he　brushed　his　buckskin　costume；　he

polished　his　knife　and　tomahawk；　but　his　hair　received　more　attention　than　all

else。　It　required　much　care。　When　combed　out　it　reached　fully　to　his　knees。

Joe　had　seen　him；　after　he　returned　from　a　long　hunt；　work　patiently　for　an

hour　with　his　wooden　comb；　and　not　stop　until　every　little　burr　was　gone；　or

tangle　smoothed　out。　Then　he　would　comb　it　again　in　the　morningthis；　of

course；　when　time　permittedand　twist　and　tie　it　up　so　as　to　offer　small

resistance　to　his　slipping　through　the　underbush。　　Joe　knew　the　hunter's

simplicity　was　such；　that　if　he　cut　off　his　hair　it　would　seem　he　feared　the

Indiansfor　that　streaming　black　hair　the　Indians　had　long　coveted　and　sworn

to　take。　It　would　make　any　brave　a　famous　chief；　and　was　the　theme　of　many　a

savage　war　tale。



After　breakfast　Wetzel　said　to　Joe：



〃You　stay　here；　an'　I'll　look　round　some；　mebbe　I'll　come　back　soon；　and　we'll

go　out　an'　kill　a　buffalo。　Injuns　sometimes　foller　up　a　buffalo　trail；　an'　I

want　to　be　sure　none　of　the　varlets　are　chasin'　that　herd　we　saw　to…day。〃



Wetzel　left　the　cave　by　the　rear。　It　took　him　fifteen　minutes　to　crawl　to　the

head　of　the　tortuous；　stony　passage。　Lifting　the　stone　which　closed　up　the

aperture；　he　looked　out　and　listened。　Then；　rising；　he　replaced　the　stone；　and

passed　down　the　wooded　hillside。



It　was　a　beautiful　morning；　the　dew　glistened　on　the　green　leaves；　the　sun

shone　bright　and　warm；　the　birds　warbled　in　the　trees。　The　hunter's　moccasins

pressed　so　gently　on　the　moss　and　leaves　that　they　made　no　more　sound　than　the

soft　foot　of　a　panther。　His　trained　ear　was　alert　to　catch　any　unfamiliar

noise；　his　keen　eyes　sought　first　the　remoter　open　glades　and　glens；　then　bent

their　gaze　on　the　mossy　bluff　beneath　his　feet。　　Fox　squirrels　dashed　from

before　him　into　bushy　retreats；　grouse　whirred　away　into　the　thickets；

startled　deer　whistled；　and　loped　off　with　their　white…flags　upraised。　Wetzel

knew　from　the　action　of　these　denizens　of　the　woods　that　he　was　the　only

creature；　not　native　to　these　haunts；　who　had　disturbed　them　this　morning。

Otherwise　the　deer　would　not　have　been　grazing；　but　lying　low　in　some　close

thicket；　fox　squirrels　seldom　or　never　were　disturbed　by　a　hunter　twice　in　one

day；　for　after　being　frightened　these　little　animals；　wilder　and　shyer　than

gray　squirrels；　remained　hidden　for　hours；　and　grouse　that　have　been　flushed　a

little　while　before；　always　get　up　unusually　quick；　and　fly　very　far　before

alighting。



Wetzel　circled　back　over　the　hill；　took　a　long　survey　from　a　rocky　eminence；

and　then　reconnoitered　the　lowland　for　several　miles。　He　located　the　herd　of

buffalo；　and　satisfying　himself　there　were　no　Indians　nearfor　the　bison　were

grazing　quietlyhe　returned　to　the　cave。　A　soft　whistle　into　the　back　door　of

the　rocky　home　told　Joe　that　the　hunter　was　waiting。



〃Coast　clear？〃　whispered　the　lad；　thrusting　his　head　out　of　the　entrance。　　His

gray　eyes　gleamed　brightly；　showing　his　eager　spirit。



The　hunter　nodded；　and；　throwing　his　rifle　in　the　hollow　of　his　arm；　proceeded

down　the　hill。　Joe　followed　closely；　endeavoring；　as　Wetzel　had　trained　him；

to　make　each　step　precisely　in　the　hunter's　footprints。　　The　lad　had　soon

learned　to　step　nimbly　and　softly　as　a　cat。　When　half　way　down　the　bill　Wetzel

paused。



〃See　anythin'？〃　he　whispered。



Joe　glanced　on　all　sides。　Many　mistakes　had　taught　him　to　be　cautious。　　He　had

learned　from　experience　that　for　every　woodland　creature　he　saw；　there　were

ten　watching　his　every　move。　Just　now　he　could　not　see　even　a　little　red

squirrel。　Everywhere　w