the spirit of the border-第13章

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weapons。　They　knew　there　was　a　foe　above　them。　It　was　a　paleface；　for　an

Indian　would　have　revealed　himself。



The　hunter；　seeing　he　was　discovered；　acted　with　the　unerring　judgment　and

lightning…like　rapidity　of　one　long　accustomed　to　perilous　situations。　

Drawing　his　tomahawk　and　noiselessly　stepping　to　the　hole　in　the　loft；　he

leaped　into　the　midst　of　the　astounded　Indians。



Rising　from　the　floor　like　the　rebound　of　a　rubber　ball；　his　long　arm　with　the

glittering　hatchet　made　a　wide　sweep；　and　the　young　braves　scattered　like

frightened　sheep。



He　made　a　dash　for　the　door　and；　incredible　as　it　may　seem；　his　movements　were

so　quick　he　would　have　escaped　from　their　very　midst　without　a　scratch　but　for

one　unforeseen　circumstance。　The　clay　floor　was　wet　and　slippery；　his　feet

were　hardly　in　motion　before　they　slipped　from　under　him　and　he　fell　headlong。



With　loud　yells　of　triumph　the　band　jumped　upon　him。　There　was　a　convulsive；

heaving　motion　of　the　struggling　mass；　one　frightful　cry　of　agony；　and　then

hoarse　commands。　Three　of　the　braves　ran　to　their　packs；　from　which　they　took

cords　of　buckskin。　So　exceedingly　powerful　was　the　hunter　that　six　Indians

were　required　to　hold　him　while　the　others　tied　his　hands　and　feet。　Then；　with

grunts　and　chuckles　of　satisfaction；　they　threw　him　into　a　corner　of　the

cabin。



Two　of　the　braves　had　been　hurt　in　the　brief　struggle；　one　having　a　badly

wrenched　shoulder　and　the　other　a　broken　arm。　So　much　for　the　hunter's　power

in　that　single　moment　of　action。



The　loft　was　searched；　and　found　to　be　empty。　Then　the　excitement　died　away；

and　the　braves　settled　themselves　down　for　the　night。　The　injured　ones　bore

their　hurts　with　characteristic　stoicism；　if　they　did　not　sleep；　both　remained

quiet　and　not　a　sigh　escaped　them。



The　wind　changed　during　the　night；　the　storm　abated；　and　when　daylight　came

the　sky　was　cloudless。　The　first　rays　of　the　sun　shone　in　the　open　door；

lighting　up　the　interior　of　the　cabin。



A　sleepy　Indian　who　had　acted　as　guard　stretched　his　limbs　and　yawned。　He

looked　for　the　prisoner；　and　saw　him　sitting　up　in　the　corner。　One　arm　was

free；　and　the　other　nearly　so。　He　had　almost　untied　the　thongs　which　bound

him；　a　few　moments　more　and　he　would　have　been　free。



〃Ugh！〃　exclaimed　the　young　brave；　awakening　his　chief　and　pointing　to　the

hunter。



The　chief　glanced　at　his　prisoner；　then　looked　more　closely；　and　with　one

spring　was　on　his　feet；　a　drawn　tomahawk　n　his　hand。　A　short；　shrill　yell

issued　from　his　lips。　Roused　by　that　clarion　call；　the　young　braves　jumped　up；

trembling　in　eager　excitement。　The　chief's　summons　had　been　the　sharp　war…cry

of　the　Delawares。



He　manifested　as　intense　emotion　as　could　possibly　have　been　betrayed　by　a

matured；　experienced　chieftain；　and　pointing　to　the　hunter；　he　spoke　a　single

word。





At　noonday　the　Indians　entered　the　fields　of　corn　which　marked　the　outskirts

of　the　Delaware　encampment。



〃Kol…lookol…lookol…loo。〃



The　long　signal；　heralding　the　return　of　the　party　with　important　news；　pealed

throughout　the　quiet　valley；　and　scarcely　had　the　echoes　died　away　when　from

the　village　came　answering　shouts。



Once　beyond　the　aisles　of　waving　corn　the　hunter　saw　over　the　shoulders　of　his

captors　the　home　of　the　redmen。　A　grassy　plain；　sloping　gradually　from　the

woody　hill　to　a　winding　stream；　was　brightly　beautiful　with　chestnut　trees　and

long；　well…formed　lines　of　lodges。　Many…hued　blankets　hung　fluttering　in　the

sun；　and　rising　lazily　were　curling　columns　of　blue　smoke。　The　scene　was

picturesque　and　reposeful；　the　vivid　hues　suggesting　the　Indians　love　of　color

and　ornament；　the　absence　of　life　and　stir；　his　languorous　habit　of　sleeping

away　the　hot　noonday　hours。



The　loud　whoops；　however；　changed　the　quiet　encampment　into　a　scene　of

animation。　Children　ran　from　the　wigwams；　maidens　and　braves　dashed　here　and

there；　squaws　awakened　from　their　slumber；　and　many　a　doughty　warrior　rose

from　his　rest　in　the　shade。　French　fur　traders　came　curiously　from　their

lodges；　and　renegades　hurriedly　left　their　blankets；　roused　to　instant　action

by　the　well…known　summons。



The　hunter；　led　down　the　lane　toward　the　approaching　crowd；　presented　a　calm

and　fearless　demeanor。　When　the　Indians　surrounded　him　one　prolonged；　furious

yell　rent　the　air；　and　then　followed　an　extraordinary　demonstration　of　fierce

delight。　The　young　brave's　staccato　yell；　the　maiden's　scream；　the　old　squaw's

screech；　and　the　deep　war…cry　of　the　warriors　intermingled　in　a　fearful

discordance。



Often　had　this　hunter　heard　the　name　which　the　Indian　called　him；　he　had　been

there　before；　a　prisoner；　he　had　run　the　gauntlet　down　the　lane；　he　had　been

bound　to　a　stake　in　front　of　the　lodge　where　his　captors　were　now　leading　him。

He　knew　the　chief；　Wingenund；　sachem　of　the　Delawares。　Since　that　time；　now

five　years　ago；　when　Wingenund　had　tortured　him；　they　had　been　bitterest　foes。



If　the　hunter　heard　the　hoarse　cries；　or　the　words　hissed　into　his　ears；　if　he

saw　the　fiery　glances　of　hatred；　and　sudden　giving　way　to　ungovernable　rage；

unusual　to　the　Indian　nature；　if　he　felt　in　their　fierce　exultation　the

hopelessness　of　succor　or　mercy；　he　gave　not　the　slightest　sign。



〃Atelang！　Atelang！　Atelang！〃　rang　out　the　strange　Indian　name。



The　French　traders；　like　real　savages；　ran　along　with　the　procession；　their

feathers　waving；　their　paint　shining；　their　faces　expressive　of　as　much

excitement　as　the　Indians'　as　they　cried　aloud　in　their　native　tongue：



〃Le　Vent　de　la　Mort！　Le　Vent　de　la　Mort！　La　Vent　de　la　Mort！〃



The　hunter；　while　yet　some　paces　distant；　saw　the　lofty　figure　of　the

chieftain　standing　in　front　of　his　principal　men。　Well　he　knew　them　all。　There

were　the　crafty　Pipe；　and　his　savage　comrade；　the　Half　King；　there　was

Shingiss；　who　wore　on　his　forehead　a　scarthe　mark　of　the　hunter's　bullet；

there　were　Kotoxen；　the　Lynx；　and　Misseppa；　the　Source；　and　Winstonah；　the

War…cloud；　chiefs　of　sagacity　and　renown。　Three　renegades　completed　the

circle；　and　these　three　traitors　represented　a　power　which　had　for　ten　years

left　an　awful；　bloody　trail　over　the　country。　Simon　Girty；　the　so…called　White

Indian；　with　his　keen；　authoritative　face　turned　expectantly；　Elliott；　the

Tory　deserter；　from　Fort　Pitt；　a　wiry；　spider…like　little　man；　and　last；　the

gaunt　and　gaudily　arrayed　form　of　the　demon　of　the　frontierJim　Girty。



The　procession　halted　before　this　group；　and　two　brawny　braves　pushed　the

hunter　forward。　Simon　Girty's　face　betrayed　satisfaction；　Elliott's　shifty

eyes　snapped；　and　the　dark；　repulsive　face　of　the　other　Girty　exhibited　an

exultant　joy。　These　desperadoes　had　feared　this　hunter。



Wingenund；　with　a　majestic　wave　of　his　arm；　silenced　the　yelling　horde　of

frenzied　savage　and　stepped　before　the　captive。



The　deadly　foes　were　once；　again　face　to　face。　The　chieftain's　lofty　figure

and　dark；　sleek　head；　now　bare　of　plumes；　towered　over　the　other　Indians；　but

he　was　not　obliged　to　lower　his　gaze　in　order　to　look　straight　into　the

hunter's　eyes。



Verily　this　hunter　merited　the　respect　which　shone　in　the　great　chieftain's

glance。　Like　a　mountain…ash　he　stood；　straight　and　strong；　his　magnificent

frame　tapering　wedge…like　from　his　broad　shoulders。　The　bulging　line　of　his

thick　neck；　the　deep　chest；　the　knotty　contour　of　his　bared　forearm；　and　the

full　curves　of　his　legsall　denoted　a　wonderful　muscular　development。



The　power　expressed　in　this　man's　body　seemed　intensified　in　his　features。　

His　face　was　white　and　cold；　his　jaw　square　and　set；　his　coal…black　eyes

glittered　with　almost　a　superhuman　fire。　And　his　hair；　darker　than　the　wing　of

a　crow；　fell　far　below　his　shoulders；　matted　and　tangled　as　it　was；　still　it

hung　to　his　waist；　and　had　it　been　combed　out；　must　have　reached　his　knees。



One　long　moment　Wingenund　stood　facing　his　foe；　and　then　over　the　multitude

and　through　th