the spirit of the border-第32节

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Another　Indian　rose　quickly；　and　glanced　furtively　around　the　glade。　He　bent

over　a　comrade　and　shook　him。　Instantly　the　second　Indian　was　on　his　feet。

Scarcely　had　he　gained　a　standing　posture　when　an　object；　bounding　like　a　dark

ball；　shot　out　of　the　thicket　and　hurled　both　warriors　to　the　earth。　A

moonbeam　glinted　upon　something　bright。　It　flashed　again　on　a　swift；　sweeping

circle。　A　short；　choking　yell　aroused　the　other　savages。　　Up　they　sprang；

alarmed；　confused。



The　shadow…form　darted　among　them。　It　moved　with　inconceivable　rapidity；　it

became　a　monster。　Terrible　was　the　convulsive　conflict。　Dull　blows；　the　click

of　steel；　angry　shouts；　agonized　yells；　and　thrashing；　wrestling　sounds

mingled　together　and　half　drowned　by　an　awful　roar　like　that　of　a　mad　bull。

The　strife　ceased　as　suddenly　as　it　had　begun。　Warriors　lay　still　on　the

grass；　others　writhed　in　agony。　For　an　instant　a　fleeting　shadow　crossed　the

open　lane　leading　out　of　the　glade；　then　it　vanished。



Three　savages　had　sprung　toward　their　rifles。　A　blinding　flash；　a　loud　report

burst　from　the　thicket　overhead。　The　foremost　savage　sank　lifelessly。　The

others　were　intercepted　by　a　giant　shadow　with　brandished　rifle。　The　watcher

on　the　knoll　had　entered　the　glade。　He　stood　before　the　stacked　rifles　and

swung　his　heavy　gun。　Crash！　An　Indian　went　down　before　that　sweep；　but　rose

again。　The　savages　backed　away　from　this　threatening　figure；　and　circled

around　it。



The　noise　of　the　other　conflict　ceased。　More　savages　joined　the　three　who

glided　to　and　fro　before　their　desperate　foe。　They　closed　in　upon　him；　only　to

be　beaten　back。　One　savage　threw　a　glittering　knife；　another　hurled　a　stone；　a

third　flung　his　tomahawk；　which　struck　fire　from　the　swinging　rifle。



He　held　them　at　bay。　While　they　had　no　firearms　he　was　master　of　the

situation。　With　every　sweep　of　his　arms　he　brought　the　long　rifle　down　and

knocked　a　flint　from　the　firelock　of　an　enemy's　weapon。　Soon　the　Indians'　guns

were　useless。　Slowly　then　he　began　to　edge　away　from　the　stone；　toward　the；

opening　where　he　had　seen　the　fleeting　form　vanish。



His　intention　was　to　make　a　dash　for　life；　for　he　had　heard　a　noise　behind　the

rock；　and　remembered　the　guard。　He　saw　the　savages　glance　behind　him；　and

anticipated　danger　from　that　direction；　but　he　must　not　turn。　　A　second　there

might　be　fatal。　He　backed　defiantly　along　the　rock　until　he　gained　its　outer

edge。　But　too　late！　The　Indians　glided　before　him；　now　behind　him；　he　was

surrounded。　He　turned　around　and　around；　with　the　ever…circling　rifle　whirling

in　the　faces　of　the　baffled　foe。



Once　opposite　the　lane　leading　from　the　glade　he　changed　his　tactics；　and

plunged　with　fierce　impetuosity　into　the　midst　of　the　painted　throng。　　Then

began　a　fearful　conflict。　The　Indians　fell　before　the　sweep　of　his　powerful

arms；　but　grappled　with　him　from　the　ground。　He　literally　plowed　his　way

through　the　struggling　mass；　warding　off　an　hundred　vicious　blows。　　Savage

after　savage　he　flung　off；　until　at　last　he　had　a　clear　path　before　him。

Freedom　lay　beyond　that　shiny　path。　Into　it　he　bounded。



As　he　left　the　glade　the　plumed　guard　stepped　from　behind　a　tree　near　the

entrance　of　the　path；　and　cast　his　tomahawk。



A　white；　glittering　flash；　it　flew　after　the　fleeing　runner；　its　aim　was　true。



Suddenly　the　moonlight　path　darkened　in　the　runner's　sight；　he　saw　a　million

flashing　stars；　a　terrible　pain　assailed　him；　he　sank　slowly；　slowly　down；

then　all　was　darkness。







Chapter　XVII。



Joe　awoke　as　from　a　fearsome　nightmare。　Returning　consciousness　brought　a

vague　idea　that　he　had　been　dreaming　of　clashing　weapons；　of　yelling　savages；

of　a　conflict　in　which　he　had　been　clutched　by　sinewy　fingers。　　An　acute　pain

pulsed　through　his　temples；　a　bloody　mist　glazed　his　eyes；　a　sore　pressure

cramped　his　arms　and　legs。　Surely　he　dreamed　this　distress；　as　well　as　the

fight。　The　red　film　cleared　from　his　eyes。　His　wandering　gaze　showed　the　stern

reality。



The　bright　sun；　making　the　dewdrops　glisten　on　the　leaves；　lighted　up　a

tragedy。　Near　him　lay　an　Indian　whose　vacant；　sightless　eyes　were　fixed　in

death。　Beyond　lay　four　more　savages；　the　peculiar；　inert　position　of　whose

limbs；　the　formlessness；　as　it　were；　as　if　they　had　been　thrown　from　a　great

height　and　never　moved　again；　attested　that　here；　too；　life　had　been

extinguished。　Joe　took　in　only　one　detailthe　cloven　skull　of　the

nearestwhen　he　turned　away　sickened。　He　remembered　it　all　now。　The　advance；

the　rush；　the　fightall　returned。　He　saw　again　Wetzel's　shadowy　form　darting

like　a　demon　into　the　whirl　of　conflict；　he　heard　again　that　hoarse；　booming

roar　with　which　the　Avenger　accompanied　his　blows。　Joe's　gaze　swept　the　glade；

but　found　no　trace　of　the　hunter。



He　saw　Silvertip　and　another　Indian　bathing　a　wound　on　Girty's　head。　The

renegade　groaned　and　writhed　in　pain。　Near　him　lay　Kate；　with　white　face　and

closed　eyes。　She　was　unconscious；　or　dead。　Jim　sat　crouched　under　a　tree　to

which　he　was　tied。



〃Joe；　are　you　badly　hurt？〃　asked　the　latter；　in　deep　solicitude。



〃No；　I　guess　not；　I　don't　know；〃　answered　Joe。　〃Is　poor　Kate　dead？〃



〃No；　she　has　fainted。〃



〃Where's　Nell？〃



〃Gone；〃　replied　Jim；　lowering　his　voice；　and　glancing　at　the　Indians。　They

were　too　busy　trying　to　bandage　Girty's　head　to　pay　any　attention　to　their

prisoners。　〃That　whirlwind　was　Wetzel；　wasn't　it？〃



〃Yes；　how'd　you　know？〃



〃I　was　awake　last　night。　I　had　an　oppressive　feeling；　perhaps　a　presentiment。

Anyway；　I　couldn't　sleep。　I　heard　that　wind　blow　through　the　forest；　and

thought　my　blood　would　freeze。　The　moan　is　the　same　as　the　night　wind；　the

same　soft　sigh；　only　louder　and　somehow　pregnant　with　superhuman　power。　To

speak　of　it　in　broad　daylight　one　seems　superstitious；　but　to　hear　it　in　the

darkness　of　this　lonely　forest；　it　is　fearful！　I　hope　I　am　not　a　coward；　I

certainly　know　I　was　deathly　frightened。　No　wonder　I　was　scared！　Look　at　these

dead　Indians；　all　killed　in　a　moment。　I　heard　the　moan；　I　saw　Silvertip

disappear；　and　the　other　two　savages　rise。　Then　something　huge　dropped　from

the　rock；　a　bright　object　seemed　to　circle　round　the　savages；　they　uttered　one

short　yell；　and　sank　to　rise　no　more。　Somehow　at　once　I　suspected　that　this

shadowy　form；　with　its　lightninglike　movements；　its　glittering　hatchet；　was

Wetzel。　When　he　plunged　into　the　midst　of　the　other　savages　I　distinctly

recognized　him；　and　saw　that　he　had　a　bundle；　possibly　his　coat；　wrapped　round

his　left　arm；　and　his　right　hand　held　the　glittering　tomahawk。　I　saw　him

strike　that　big　Indian　there；　the　one　lying　with　split　skull。　His　wonderful

daring　and　quickness　seemed　to　make　the　savages　turn　at　random。　He　broke

through　the　circle；　swung　Nell　under　his　arm；　slashed　at　my　bonds　as　he　passed

by；　and　then　was　gone　as　he　had　come。　　Not　until　after　you　were　struck；　and

Silvertip　came　up　to　me；　was　I　aware　my　bonds　were　cut。　Wetzel's　hatchet　had

severed　them；　it　even　cut　my　side；　which　was　bleeding。　I　was　free　to　help；　to

fight；　and　I　did　not　know　it。　　Fool　that　I　am！〃



〃I　made　an　awful　mess　of　my　part　of　the　rescue；〃　groaned　Joe。　〃I　wonder　if　the

savages　know　it　was　Wetzel。〃



〃Do　they？　Well；　I　rather　think　so。　Did　you　not　hear　them　scream　that　French

name？　As　far　as　I　am　able　to　judge；　only　two　Indians　were　killed　instantly。

The　others　died　during　the　night。　I　had　to　sit　here；　tied　and　helpless；

listening　as　they　groaned　and　called　the　name　of　their　slayer；　even　in　their

death…throes。　Deathwind！　They　have　named　him　well。〃



〃I　guess　he　nearly　killed　Girty。〃



〃Evidently；　but　surely　the　evil　one　protects　the　renegade。〃



〃Jim　Girty's　doomed；〃　whispered　Joe；　earnestly。　〃He's　as　good　as　dead　already。

I've　lived　with　Wetzel；　and　know　him。　He　told　me　Girty　had　murdered　a　settler；

a　feeble　old　man；　who　lived　near　Fort　Henry　with　his　son。　The　hunter　has　sworn

to　kill　the　renegade；　but；　mind　you；　he　did　not　tell　me　that。　I　saw　it　in　his

eyes。　It　wouldn't　surprise　me　to　see　him　jump　out　of　these　bushes　at　any

moment。　I'm　looking　for　it。　If　he　knows　there　are　only　three　left；　he'll　be

after　them　like　a　hound　on　a　trail。　　Girty　must　hurry。　Where's　he　taking　you？〃



〃To　the　Delaware　town。〃



〃I　don't　suppose　the　chiefs　will　let　any　harm　befall　you；　but　Kate　and　I　would

be　better　off　dead。　If　we　can　only　delay　the　march；　Wetzel　will　surely

return。〃



〃Hush！　Girty's　up。〃



The　renegade　staggered　to　an　upright　position；　and　leaned　on　the　Shawnee's

arm。　Evidently　he　had　not　been　seriously　injured；　only　stunned。　Covered　with

blood　from　a　swollen；　gashed　lump　on　his　temple；　he　certainly　presented　a

savage　appearance。



〃Where's　the　yellow…haired　lass？〃　he　demanded；　pushing　away　Silvertip's

friendly　arm。　He　glared　around　the　glade。　The　Shawnee　addressed　him　briefly；

whereupon　he　raged　to　and　fro　under　the　tree；　cursing　with　foam…flecked　lips；

and　actual