Betty Zane Zane Grey (desktop ebook reader TXT) 📖

game. I guess Noah did not approve of this, for after he had looked the stranger over he hauled away and punched the lad soundly. To make it short the strange boy gave Noah the worst beating he ever got in his life. I told Noah to come straight to you and confess.”

“Well, did you ever!” ejaculated Mrs. Zane. “Noah is a bad boy. And you stood and watched him fight. You are laughing about it now. Ebenezer Zane, I would not put it beneath you to set Noah to fighting. I know you used to make the little niggers fight. Anyway, it serves Noah right and I hope it will be a lesson to him.”

“I’ll make you a bet, Bessie,” said the Colonel, with another laugh. “I’ll bet you that unless we lock him up, Noah will fight that boy every day or every time he meets him.”

“I won’t bet,” said Mrs. Zane, with a smile of resignation.

“Where’s Betts? I haven’t seen her this morning. I am going over to Short Creek tomorrow or next day, and think I’ll take her with me. You know I am to get a commission to lay out several settlements along the river, and I want to get some work finished at Short Creek this spring. Mrs. Raymer will be delighted to have Betty. Shall I take her?”

“By all means. A visit there will brighten her up and do her good.”

“Well, what on earth have you been doing?” cried the Colonel. His remark had been called forth by a charming vision that had entered by the open door. Betty⁠—for it was she⁠—wore a little red cap set jauntily on her black hair. Her linsey dress was crumpled and covered with hayseed.

“I’ve been in the haymow,” said Betty, waving a small basket. “For a week that old black hen has circumvented me, but at last I have conquered. I found the nest in the farthest corner under the hay.”

“How did you get up in the loft?” inquired Mrs. Zane.

“Bessie, I climbed up the ladder of course. I acknowledge being unusually lighthearted and happy this morning, but I have not as yet grown wings. Sam said I could not climb up that straight ladder, but I found it easy enough.”

“You should not climb up into the loft,” said Mrs. Zane, in a severe tone. “Only last fall Hugh Bennet’s little boy slid off the hay down into one of the stalls and the horse kicked him nearly to death.”

“Oh, fiddlesticks, Bessie, I am not a baby,” said Betty, with vehemence. “There is not a horse in the barn but would stand on his hind legs before he would step on me, let alone kick me.”

“I don’t know, Betty, but I think that black horse Mr. Clarke left here would kick anyone,” remarked the Colonel.

“Oh, no, he would not hurt me.”

“Betty, we have had pleasant weather for about three days,” said the Colonel, gravely. “In that time you have let out that crazy bear of yours to turn everything topsy-turvy. Only yesterday I got my hands in the paint you have put on your canoe. If you had asked my advice I would have told you that painting your canoe should not have been done for a month yet. Silas told me you fell down the creek hill; Sam said you tried to drive his team over the bluff, and so on. We are happy to see you get back your old time spirits, but could you not be a little more careful? Your versatility is bewildering. We do not know what to look for next. I fully expect to see you brought to the house someday maimed for life, or all that beautiful black hair gone to decorate some Huron’s lodge.”

“I tell you I am perfectly delighted that the weather is again so I can go out. I am tired to death of staying indoors. This morning I could have cried for very joy. Bessie will soon be lecturing me about Madcap. I must not ride farther than the fort. Well, I don’t care. I intend to ride all over.”

“Betty, I do not wish you to think I am lecturing you,” said the Colonel’s wife. “But you are as wild as a March hare, and someone must tell you things. Now listen. My brother, the Major, told me that Simon Girty, the renegade, had been heard to say that he had seen Eb Zane’s little sister and that if he ever got his hands on her he would make a squaw of her. I am not teasing you. I am telling you the truth. Girty saw you when you were at Fort Pitt two years ago. Now what would you do if he caught you on one of your lonely rides and carried you off to his wigwam? He has done things like that before. James Girty carried off one of the Johnson girls. Her brothers tried to rescue her and lost their lives. It is a common trick of the Indians.”

“What would I do if Mr. Simon Girty tried to make a squaw of me?” exclaimed Betty, her eyes flashing fire. “Why, I’d kill him!”

“I believe it, Betts, on my word I do,” spoke up the Colonel. “But let us hope you may never see Girty. All I ask is that you be careful. I am going over to Short Creek tomorrow. Will you go with me? I know Mrs. Raymer will be pleased to see you.”

“Oh, Eb, that will be delightful!”

“Very well, get ready and we shall start early in the morning.”

Two weeks later Betty returned from Short Creek and seemed to have profited much by her short visit. Col. Zane remarked with satisfaction to his wife that Betty had regained all her former cheerfulness.

The morning after Betty’s return was a perfect spring morning⁠—the first in that month of Maydays. The sun shone bright and warm; the mayflowers blossomed; the trailing arbutus scented the air; everywhere the grass and the leaves looked fresh and green; swallows flitted in and out of