The Spirit of the Border by Zane Grey (free children's ebooks pdf .TXT) đ
- Author: Zane Grey
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âIâve got some bar ready cooked,â said Wetzel, handing Zane several strips of meat.
âWhat luck did you have?â
âI found Girtyâs trail, an old one, over here some eighteen or twenty miles, anâ follered it until I went almost into the Delaware town. It led to a hut in a deep ravine. I ainât often surprised, but I wus then. I found the dead body of that girl, Kate Wells, we fetched over from Fort Henry. Thetâs sad, but it ainât the surprisinâ part. I also found Silvertip, the Shawnee Iâve been lookinâ fer. He was all knocked anâ cut up, deaderân a stone. Thereâd been somethinâ of a scrap in the hut. I calkilate Girty murdered Kate, but I couldnât think then who did fer Silver, though I allowed the renegade might hev done thet, too. I watched round anâ seen Girty come back to the hut. He had ten Injuns with him, anâ presently they all made fer the west. I trailed them, but didnât calkilate itâd be wise to tackle the bunch single-handed, so laid back. A mile or so from the hut I came across hoss tracks minglinâ with the moccasin-prints. About fifteen mile or from the Delaware town, Girty left his buckskins, anâ they went west, while he stuck to the hoss tracks. I was onto his game in a minute. I cut across country fer Beautiful Spring, but I got there too late. I found the warm bodies of Joe and thet Injun girl, Winds. The snake hed murdered them.â
âI allow Joe won over Winds, got away from the Delaware town with her, tried to rescue Kate, and killed Silver in the fight. Girty probably was surprised, anâ run after he had knifed the girl.â
ââPears so to me. Joe had two knife cuts, anâ one was an old wound.â
âYou say it was a bad fight?â
âMust hev been. The hut was all knocked in, anâ stuff scattered about. Wal, Joe could go some if he onct got started.â
âIâll bet he could. He was the likeliest lad Iâve seen for many a day.â
âIf heâd lasted, heâd been somethinâ of a hunter anâ fighter.â
âToo bad. But Lord! you couldnât keep him down, no more than you can lots of these wild young chaps that drift out here.â
âIâll allow he had the fever bad.â
âDid you hev time to bury them?â
âI hednât time fer much. I sunk them in the spring.â
âItâs a pretty deep hole,â said Zane, reflectively. âThen, you and the dog took Girtyâs trail, but couldnât catch up with him. Heâs now with the renegade cutthroats and hundreds of riled Indians over there in the Village of Peace.â
âI reckon youâre right.â
A long silence ensued,. Jonathan finished his simple repast, drank from the little spring that trickled under the stone, and, sitting down by the dog, smoothed out his long silken hair.
âLew, weâre pretty good friends, ainât we?â he asked, thoughtfully.
âJack, you anâ the colonel are all the friends I ever hed, âceptinâ that boy lyinâ quiet back there in the woods.â
âI know you pretty well, and ainât sayinâ a word about your runninâ off from me on many a hunt, but I want to speak plain about this fellow Girty.â
âWal?â said Wetzel, as Zane hesitated.
âTwice in the last few years you and I have had it in for the same men, both white-livered traitors. You remember? First it was Miller, who tried to ruin my sister Betty, and next it was Jim Girty, who murdered our old friend, as good an old man as ever wore moccasins. Wal, after Miller ran off from the fort, we trailed him down to the river, and I points across and says, âYou or me?â and you says, âMe.â You was Bettyâs friend, and I knew sheâd be avenged. Miller is lyinâ quiet in the woods, and violets have blossomed twice over his grave, though you never said a word; but I know itâs true because I know you.â
Zane looked eagerly into the dark face of his friend, hoping perhaps to get some verbal assurance there that his belief was true. But Wetzel did not speak, and he continued:
âAnother day not so long ago we both looked down at an old friend, and saw his white hair matted with blood. Heâd been murdered for nothinâ. Again you and me trailed a coward and found him to be Jim Girty. I knew youâd been huntinâ him for years, and so I says, âLew, you or me?â and you says, âMe.ââ I give in to you, for I knew youâre a better man than me, and because I wanted you to have the satisfaction. Wal, the months have gone by, and Jim Girtyâs still livinâ and carryinâ on. Now heâs over there after them poor preachers. I ainât sayinâ, Lew, that you havenât more agin him than me, but I do say, let me in on it with you. He always has a gang of redskins with him; heâs afraid to travel alone, else youâd had him long ago. Two of usâll have more chance to get him. Let me go with you. When it comes to a finish, Iâll stand aside while you give it to him. Iâd enjoy seeinâ you cut him from shoulder to hip. After he leaves the Village of Peace weâll hit his trail, camp on it, and stick to it until it ends in his grave.â
The earnest voice of the backwoodsman ceased. Both men rose and stood facing each other. Zaneâs bronzed face was hard and tense, expressive of an indomitable will; Wetzelâs was coldly dark, with fateful resolve, as if his decree of vengeance, once given, was as immutable as destiny. The big, horny hands gripped in a viselike clasp born of fierce passion, but no word was spoken.
Far to the west somewhere, a befrilled and dedizened renegade pursued the wild tenor of his ways; perhaps, even now steeping his soul in more crime, or staining his hands a deeper red, but sleeping or waking, he dreamed not of this deadly compact that meant his doom.
The two hunters turned their stern faces toward the west, and passed silently down the ridge into the depths of the forest. Darkness found them within rifleshot of the Village of Peace. With the dog creeping between them, they crawled to a position which would, in daylight, command a view of the clearing. Then, while one stood guard, the other slept.
When morning dawned they shifted their position to the top of a low, fern-covered cliff, from which they could see every movement in the village. All the morning they watched with that wonderful patience of men who knew how to wait. The visiting savages were quiet, the missionaries moved about in and out of the shops and cabins; the Christian indians worked industriously in the fields, while the renegades lolled before a prominent teepee.
âThis quiet looks bad,â whispered Jonathan to Wetzel. No shouts were heard; not a hostile Indian was seen to move.
âTheyâve come to a decision,â whispered Jonathan, and Wetzel answered him:
âIf they hev, the Christians donât know it.â
An hour later the deep pealing of the church bell broke the silence. The entire band of Christian Indians gathered near the large log structure, and then marched in orderly form toward the maple grove where the service was always held in pleasant weather. This movement brought the Indians within several hundred yards of the cliff where Zane and Wetzel lay concealed.
âThereâs Heckewelder walking with old man Wells,â whispered Jonathan. âThereâs Young and Edwards, and, yes, thereâs the young missionary, brother of Joe. âPears to me theyâre foolish to hold service in the face of all those riled Injuns.â
âWussân foolish,â answered Wetzel.
âLook! By gum! As Iâm a livinâ sinner there comes the whole crowd of hostile redskins. Theyâve got their guns, andâby Gum! theyâre painted. Looks bad, bad! Not much friendliness about that bunch!â
âThey ainât intendinâ to be peaceable.â
âBy gum! Youâre right. There ainât one of them settinâ down. âPears to me I know some of them redskins. Thereâs Pipe, sure enough, and Kotoxen. By gum! If there ainât Shingiss; he was friendly once.â
âNone of themâs friendly.â
âLook! Lew, look! Right behind Pipe. See that long war-bonnet. As Iâm a born sinner, thatâs your old friend, Wingenund. âPears to me weâve rounded up all our acquaintances.â
The two bordermen lay close under the tall ferns and watched the proceedings with sharp eyes. They saw the converted Indians seat themselves before the platform. The crowd of hostile Indians surrounded the glade on all sides, except on, which, singularly enough, was next to the woods.
âLook thar!â exclaimed Wetzel, under his breath. He pointed off to the right of the maple glade. Jonathan gazed in the direction indicated, and saw two savages stealthily slipping through the bushes, and behind trees. Presently these suspicious acting spies, or scouts, stopped on a little knoll perhaps an hundred yards from the glade.
Wetzel groaned.
âThis ainât comfortable,â growled Zane, in a low whisper. âThem red devils are up to somethinâ bad. Theyâd better not move round over here.â
The hunters, satisfied that the two isolated savages meant mischief, turned their gaze once more toward the maple grove.
âAh! Simon you white traitor! See him, Lew, cominâ with his precious gang,â said Jonathan. âHeâs got the whole thing fixed, you can plainly see that. Bill Elliott, McKee; and whoâs that renegade with Jim Girty? Iâll allow he must be the fellar we heard was with the Chippewas. Tough lookinâ customer; a good mate fer Jim Girty! A fine lot of border-hawks!â
âSomethinâ cominâ off,â whispered Wetzel, as Zaneâs low growl grew unintelligible.
Jonathan felt, rather than saw, Wetzel tremble.
âThe missionaries are consultinâ. Ah! there comes one! Which? I guess itâs Edwards. By gum! whoâs that Injun stalkinâ over from the hostile bunch. Big chief, whoever he is. Blest if it ainât Half King!â
The watchers saw the chief wave his arm and speak with evident arrogance of Edwards, who, however, advanced to the platform and raise his hand to address the Christians.
âCrack!â
A shot rang out from the thicket. Clutching wildly at his breast, the missionary reeled back, staggered, and fell.
âOne of those skulkinâ redskins has killed Edwards,â said Zane. âBut, no; heâs not dead! Heâs gettinâ up. Mebbe he ainât hurt bad. By gum! thereâs Young cominâ forward. Of all the fools!â
It was indeed true that Young had faced the Indians. Half King addressed him as he had the other; but Young raised his hand and began speaking.
âCrack!â
Another shot rang out. Young threw up his hands and fell heavily. The missionaries rushed toward him. Mr. Wells ran round the group, wringing his hands as if distracted.
âHeâs hard hit,â hissed Zane, between his teeth. âYou can tell that by the way he fell.â
Wetzel did not answer. He lay silent and motionless, his long body rigid, and his face like marble.
âThere comes the other young fellarâJoeâs brother. Heâll get plugged, too,â continued Zane, whispering rather to himself than to his companion. âOh, I hoped theyâd show some sense! Itâs noble for them to die for Christianity, but it wonât do no good. By gum! Heckewelder has pulled him back. Now, thatâs good judgment!â
Half King stepped before the Christians and addressed them. He held in his hand a black war-club, which he wielded as he spoke.
Jonathanâs attention was now directed from the maple grove to the hunter beside him. He had heard a slight metallic click, as Wetzel cocked his rifle. Then he saw the black barrel slowly rise.
âListen, Lew. Mebbe it ainât good sense. Weâre after Girty, you remember; and itâs a long shot from hereâfull three hundred yards.â
âYouâre right, Jack,
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