the spirit of the border-第37节

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would　have　the　Delawares　on　his　trail　like　a　pack　of　hungry　wolves。　He　could

not　understand　the　absence　of　Whispering　Winds。　She　would　have　died　sooner

than　desert　him。　Girty　had；　perhaps；　captured　her；　and　was　now　scouring　the

woods　for　him。



〃I'll　get　him　next　time；　or　he'll　get　me；〃　muttered　Joe；　in　bitter　wrath。　　He

could　never　forgive　himself　for　his　failure　to　kill　the　renegade。



The　recollection　of　how　nearly　he　had　forever　ended　Girty's　brutal　career

brought　before　Joe's　mind　the　scene　of　the　fight。　He　saw　again　Buzzard　Jim's

face；　revolting；　unlike　anything　human。　There　stretched　Silvertip's　dark

figure；　lying　still　and　stark；　and　there　was　Kate's　white　form　in　its　winding；

crimson　wreath　of　blood。　Hauntingly　her　face　returned；　sad；　stern　in　its　cold

rigidity；。



〃Poor　girl；　better　for　her　to　be　dead；〃　he　murmured。　〃Not　long　will　she　be

unavenged！〃



His　thoughts　drifted　to　the　future。　He　had　no　fear　of　starvation；　for　Mose

could　catch　a　rabbit　or　woodchuck　at　any　time。　When　the　strips　of　meat　he　had

hidden　in　his　coat　were　gone；　he　could　start　a　fire　and　roast　more。　　What

concerned　him　most　was　pursuit。　His　trail　from　the　cabin　had　been　a　bloody

one；　which　would　render　it　easily　followed。　He　dared　not　risk　exertion　until

he　had　given　his　wound　time　to　heal。　Then；　if　he　did　escape　from　Girty　and　the

Delawares；　his　future　was　not　bright。　His　experiences　of　the　last　few　days　had

not　only　sobered；　but　brought　home　to　him　this　real　border　life。　With　all　his

fire　and　daring　he　new　he　was　no　fool。　He　had　eagerly　embraced　a　career　which；

at　the　present　stage　of　his　training；　was　beyond　his　scopenot　that　he　did

not　know　how　to　act　in　sudden　crises；　but　because　he　had　not　had　the　necessary

practice　to　quickly　and　surely　use　his　knowledge。



Bitter；　indeed；　was　his　self…scorn　when　he　recalled　that　of　the　several

critical　positions　he　had　been　in　since　his　acquaintance　with　Wetzel；　he　had

failed　in　all　but　one。　The　exception　was　the　killing　of　Silvertip。　　Here　his

fury　had　made　him　fight　as　Wetzel　fought　with　only　his　every　day　incentive。　He

realized　that　the　border　was　no　place　for　any　save　the　boldest　and　most

experienced　huntersmen　who　had　become　inured　to　hardship；　callous　as　to

death；　keen　as　Indians。　Fear　was　not　in　Joe　nor　lack　of　confidence；　but　he　had

good　sense；　and　realized　he　would　have　done　a　wiser　thing　had　he　stayed　at

Fort　Henry。　Colonel　Zane　was　right。　The　Indians　were　tigers；　the　renegades

vultures；　the　vast　untrammeled　forests　and　plains　their　covert。　Ten　years　of

war　had　rendered　this　wilderness　a　place　where　those　few　white　men　who　had

survived　were　hardened　to　the　spilling　of　blood；　stern　even　in　those　few　quiet

hours　which　peril　allowed　them；　strong　in　their　sacrifice　of　all　for　future

generations。



A　low　growl　from　Mose　broke　into　Joe's　reflections。　The　dog　had　raised　his

nose　from　his　paws　and　sniffed　suspiciously　at　the　air。　The　lad　heard　a　slight

rustling　outside；　and　in　another　moment　was　overjoyed　at　seeing　Whispering

Winds。　She　came　swiftly；　with　a　lithe；　graceful　motion；　and　flying　to　him　like

a　rush　of　wind；　knelt　beside　him。　She　kissed　him　and　murmured　words　of

endearment。



〃Winds；　where　have　you　been？〃　he　asked　her；　in　the　mixed　English　and　Indian

dialect　in　which　they　conversed。



She　told　him　the　dog　had　led　her　to　him　two　evenings　before。　He　was

insensible。　She　had　bathed　and　bandaged　his　wound；　and　remained　with　him　all

that　night。　The　next　day；　finding　he　was　ill　and　delirious；　she　decided　to

risk　returning　to　the　village。　If　any　questions　arose；　she　could　say　he　had

left　her。　Then　she　would　find　a　way　to　get　back　to　him；　bringing　healing　herbs

for　his　wound　and　a　soothing　drink。　As　it　turned　out　Girty　had　returned　to　the

camp。　He　was　battered　and　bruised；　and　in　a　white　heat　of　passion。　Going　at

once　to　Wingenund；　the　renegade　openly　accused　Whispering　Winds　of　aiding　her

paleface　lover　to　escape。　Wingenund　called　his　daughter　before　him；　and

questioned　her。　She　confessed　all　to　her　father。



〃Why　is　the　daughter　of　Wingenund　a　traitor　to　her　race？〃　demanded　the　chief。



〃Whispering　Winds　is　a　Christian。〃



Wingenund　received　this　intelligence　as　a　blow。　He　dismissed　Girty　and　sent

his　braves　from　his　lodge；　facing　his　daughter　alone。　　Gloomy　and　stern；　he

paced　before　her。



〃Wingenund's　blood　might　change；　but　would　never　betray。　Wingenund　is　the

Delaware　chief；〃　he　said。　〃Go。　Darken　no　more　the　door　of　Wingenund's　wigwam。

Let　the　flower　of　the　Delawares　fade　in　alien　pastures。　Go。　　Whispering　Winds

is　free！〃



Tears　shone　brightly　in　the　Indian　girl's　eyes　while　she　told　Joe　her　story。

She　loved　her　father；　and　she　would　see　him　no　more。



〃Winds　is　free；〃　she　whispered。　〃When　strength　returns　to　her　master　she　can

follow　him　to　the　white　villages。　Winds　will　live　her　life　for　him。〃



〃Then　we　have　no　one　to　fear？〃　asked　Joe。



〃No　redman；　now　that　the　Shawnee　chief　is　dead。〃



〃Will　Girty　follow　us？　He　is　a　coward；　he　will　fear　to　come　alone。〃



〃The　white　savage　is　a　snake　in　the　grass。〃



Two　long　days　followed；　during　which　the　lovers　lay　quietly　in　hiding。　　On　the

morning　of　the　third　day　Joe　felt　that　he　might　risk　the　start　for　the　Village

of　Peace。　Whispering　Winds　led　the　horse　below　a　stone　upon　which　the　invalid

stood；　thus　enabling　him　to　mount。　Then　she　got　on　behind　him。



The　sun　was　just　gilding　the　horizon　when　they　rode　out　of　the　woods　into　a

wide　plain。　No　living　thing　could　be　seen。　Along　the　edge　of　the　forest　the

ground　was　level；　and　the　horse　traveled　easily。　　Several　times　during　the

morning　Joe　dismounted　beside　a　pile　of　stones　or　a　fallen　tree。　The　miles

were　traversed　without　serious　inconvenience　to　the　invalid；　except　that　he

grew　tired。　Toward　the　middle　of　the　afternoon；　when　they　had　ridden　perhaps

twenty…five　miles；　they　crossed　a　swift；　narrow　brook。　The　water　was　a

beautiful　clear　brown。　　Joe　made　note　of　this；　as　it　was　an　unusual

circumstance。　Nearly　all　the　streams；　when　not　flooded；　were　green　in　color。

He　remembered　that　during　his　wanderings　with　Wetzel　they　had　found　one　stream

of　this　brown；　copper…colored　water。　The　lad　knew　he　must　take　a　roundabout

way　to　the　village　so　that　he　might　avoid　Indian　runners　or　scouts；　and　he

hoped　this　stream　would　prove　to　be　the　one　he　had　once　camped　upon。



As　they　were　riding　toward　a　gentle　swell　or　knoll　covered　with　trees　and

shrubbery；　Whispering　Winds　felt　something　warm　on　her　hand；　and；　looking；　was

horrified　to　find　it　covered　with　blood。　Joe's　wound　had　opened。　She　told　him

they　must　dismount　here；　and　remain　until　he　was　stronger。　The　invalid　himself

thought　this　conclusion　was　wise。　They　would　be　practically　safe　now；　since

they　must　be　out　of　the　Indian　path；　and　many　miles　from　the　encampment。

Accordingly　he　got　off　the　horse；　and　sat　down　on　a　log；　while　Whispering

Winds　searched　for　a　suitable　place　in　which　to　erect　a　temporary　shelter。



Joe's　wandering　gaze　was　arrested　by　a　tree　with　a　huge　knotty　formation　near

the　ground。　It　was　like　many　trees；　but　this　peculiarity　was　not　what　struck

Joe。　He　had　seen　it　before。　He　never　forgot　anything　in　the　woods　that　once

attracted　his　attention。　He　looked　around　on　all　sides。　　Just　behind　him　was

an　opening　in　the　clump　of　trees。　Within　this　was　a　perpendicular　stone

covered　with　moss　and　lichens；　above　it　a　beech　tree　spread　long；　graceful

branches。　He　thrilled　with　the　remembrance　these　familiar　marks　brought。　This

was　Beautiful　Spring；　the　place　where　Wetzel　rescued　Nell；　where　he　had　killed

the　Indians　in　that　night　attack　he　would　never　forget。







Chapter　XIX。



One　evening　a　week　or　more　after　the　disappearance　of　Jim　and　the　girls；

George　Young　and　David　Edwards；　the　missionaries；　sat　on　the　cabin　steps；

gazing　disconsolately　upon　the　forest　scenery。　Hard　as　had　been　the　ten　years

of　their　labor　among　the　Indians；　nothing　had　shaken　them　as　the　loss　of　their

young　friends。



〃Dave；　I　tell　you　your　theory　about　seeing　them　again　is　absurd；〃　asserted

George。　〃I'll　never　forget　that　wretch；　Girty；　as　he　spoke　to　Nell。　Why；　she

just　wilted　like　a　flower　blasted　by　fire。　I　can't　understand　why　he　let　me

go；　and　kept　Jim；　unless　the　Shawnee　had　something　to　do　with　it。　I　never

wished　until　now　that　I　was　a　hunter。　I'd　go　after　Girty。　　You've　heard　as

well　as　I　of　his　many　atrocities。　I'd　rather　have　seen　Kate　and　Nell　dead　than

have　them　fall　into　his　power。　I'd　rather　have　killed　them　myself！〃



Young　had　aged　perceptibly　in　these　last　few　days。　The　blue　veins　showed　at

his　temples；　his　face　had　become　thinner　and　paler；　his　eyes　had　a　look　of

pain。　The　former　expression　of　patience；　which　had　sat　so　well　on　him；　was

gone。



〃George；　I　can't　account　for　my　fancies　or　feelings；　else；　perhaps；　I'd　be

easier　in　mind；〃　answered　Dave。　His　face；　too；　showed　the　ravages　of　grief。

〃I've　had　queer　thoughts　lately；　and　d