the spirit of the border-第32章

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rouse　all　Joe's　eagerness；　for　it　was　to　the　effect　that　they　were　now　in　a

country　much　traversed　by　Indians；　especially　runners　and　hunting　parties

travelling　from　north　to　south。　The　hunter　explained　that　through　the　center

of　this　tract　ran　a　buffalo　road；　that　the　buffalo　always　picked　out　the

straightest；　lowest　and　dryest　path　from　one　range　to　another；　and　the　Indians

followed　these　first　pathfinders。



Joe　and　Wetzel　made　camp　on　the　bank　of　a　stream　that　night；　and　as　the　lad

watched　the　hunter　build　a　hidden　camp…fire；　he　peered　furtively　around　half

expecting　to　see　dark　forms　scurrying　through　the　forest。　Wetzel　was　extremely

cautious。　He　stripped　pieces　of　bark　from　fallen　trees　and　built　a　little　hut

over　his　firewood。　He　rubbed　some　powder　on　a　piece　of　punk；　and　then　with

flint　and　steel　dropped　two　or　three　sparks　on　the　inflammable　substance。　Soon

he　had　a　blaze。　He　arranged　the　covering　so　that　not　a　ray　of　light　escaped。

When　the　flames　had　subsided；　and　the　wood　had　burned　down　to　a　glowing　bed　of

red；　he　threw　aside　the　bark；　and　broiled　the　strips　of　venison　they　had

brought　with　them。



They　rested　on　a　bed　of　boughs　which　they　had　cut　and　arranged　alongside　a

huge　log。　For　hours　Joe　lay　awake；　he　could　not　sleep。　He　listened　to　the

breeze　rustling　the　leaves；　and　shivered　at　the　thought　of　the　sighing　wind　he

had　once　heard　moan　through　the　forest。　Presently　he　turned　over。　　The　slight

noise　instantly　awakened　Wetzel　who　lifted　his　dark　face　while　he　listened

intently。　He　spoke　one　word：　〃Sleep；〃　and　lay　back　again　on　the　leaves。　Joe

forced　himself　to　be　quiet；　relaxed　all　his　muscles　and　soon　slumbered。



On　the　morrow　Wetzel　went　out　to　look　over　the　hunting　prospects。　About　noon

he　returned。　Joe　was　surprised　to　find　some　slight　change　in　the　hunter。　He

could　not　tell　what　it　was。



〃I　seen　Injun　sign；〃　said　Wetzel。　〃There's　no　tellin'　how　soon　we　may　run　agin

the　sneaks。　We　can't　hunt　here。　Like　as　not　there's　Hurons　and　Delawares

skulkin'　round。　I　think　I'd　better　take　you　back　to　the　village。〃



〃It's　all　on　my　account　you　say　that；〃　said　Joe。



〃Sure；〃　Wetzel　replied。



〃If　you　were　alone　what　would　you　do？〃



〃I　calkilate　I'd　hunt　fer　some　red…skinned　game。〃



The　supreme　moment　had　come。　Joe's　heart　beat　hard。　He　could　not　miss　this

opportunity；　he　must　stay　with　the　hunter。　He　looked　closely　at　Wetzel。



〃I　won't　go　back　to　the　village；〃　he　said。



The　hunter　stood　in　his　favorite　position；　leaning　on　his　long　rifle；　and　made

no　response。



〃I　won't　go；〃　continued　Joe；　earnestly。　〃Let　me　stay　with　you。　If　at　any　time

I　hamper　you；　or　can　not　keep　the　pace；　then　leave　me　to　shift　for　myself；　but

don't　make　me　go　until　I　weaken。　Let　me　stay。〃



Fire　and　fearlessness　spoke　in　Joe's　every　word；　and　his　gray　eyes　contracted

with　their　peculiar　steely　flash。　Plain　it　was　that；　while　he　might　fail　to

keep　pace　with　Wetzel；　he　did　not　fear　this　dangerous　country；　and；　if　it　must

be；　would　face　it　alone。



Wetzel　extended　his　broad　hand　and　gave　his　comrade's　a　viselike　squeeze。　　To

allow　the　lad　to　remain　with　him　was　more　than　he　would　have　done　for　any

other　person　in　the　world。　Far　better　to　keep　the　lad　under　his　protection

while　it　was　possible；　for　Joe　was　taking　that　war…trail　which　had　for　every

hunter；　somewhere　along　its　bloody　course；　a　bullet；　a　knife；　or　a　tomahawk。

Wetzel　knew　that　Joe　was　conscious　of　this　inevitable　conclusion；　for　it

showed　in　his　white　face；　and　in　the　resolve　in　his　big；　gray　eyes。



So　there；　in　the　shade　of　a　towering　oak；　the　Indian…killer　admitted　the　boy

into　his　friendship；　and　into　a　life　which　would　no　longer　be　play；　but

eventful；　stirring；　hazardous。



〃Wal；　lad；　stay；〃　he　said；　with　that　rare　smile　which　brightened　his　dark　face

like　a　ray　of　stray　sunshine。　〃We'll　hang　round　these　diggins　a　few　days。

First　off；　we'll　take　in　the　lay　of　the　land。　You　go　down　stream　a　ways　an'

scout　round　some；　while　I　go　up；　an'　then　circle　down。　Move　slow；　now；　an'

don't　miss　nothin'。〃



Joe　followed　the　stream　a　mile　or　more。　He　kept　close　in　the　shade　of　willows；

and　never　walked　across　an　open　glade　without　first　waiting　and　watching。　He

listened　to　all　sounds；　but　none　were　unfamiliar。　He　closely　examined　the　sand

along　the　stream；　and　the　moss　and　leaves　under　the　trees。　When　he　had　been

separated　from　Wetzel　several　hours；　and　concluded　he　would　slowly　return　to

camp；　he　ran　across　a　well…beaten　path　winding　through　the　forest。　This　was；

perhaps；　one　of　the　bridle…trails　Wetzel　had　referred　to。　He　bent　over　the

worn　grass　with　keen　scrutiny。



CRACK！



The　loud　report　of　a　heavily　charged　rifle　rang　out。　Joe　felt　the　zip　of　a

bullet　as　it　fanned　his　cheek。　With　an　agile　leap　he　gained　the　shelter　of　a

tree；　from　behind　which　he　peeped　to　see　who　had　shot　at　him。　He　was　just　in

time　to　detect　the　dark　form　of　an　Indian　dart　behind　the　foliage　an　hundred

yards　down　the　path。　Joe　expected　to　see　other　Indians；　and　to　hear　more

shots；　but　he　was　mistaken。　Evidently　the　savage　was　alone；　for　the　tree　Joe

had　taken　refuge　behind　was　scarcely　large　enough　to　screen　his　body；　which

disadvantage　the　other　Indians　would　have　been　quick　to　note。



Joe　closely　watched　the　place　where　his　assailant　had　disappeared；　and

presently　saw　a　dark　hand；　then　a　naked　elbow；　and　finally　the　ramrod　of　a

rifle。　The　savage　was　reloading。　Soon　a　rifle…barrel　protruded　from　behind　the

tree。　With　his　heart　beating　like　a　trip…hammer；　and　the　skin　tightening　on

his　face；　Joe　screened　his　body　as　best　he　might。　The　tree　was　small；　but　it

served　as　a　partial　protection。　Rapidly　he　revolved　in　his　mind　plans　to

outwit　the　enemy。　The　Indian　was　behind　a　large　oak　with　a　low　limb　over　which

he　could　fire　without　exposing　his　own　person　to　danger。



〃Bang！〃　The　Indian's　rifle　bellowed；　the　bullet　crumbled　the　bark　close　to

Joe's　face。　The　lad　yelled；　loudly；　staggered　to　his　knees；　and　then　fell　into

the　path；　where　he　lay　quiet。



The　redskin　gave　an　exultant　shout。　Seeing　that　the　fallen　figure　remained

quite　motionless　he　stepped　forward；　drawing　his　knife　as　he　came。　He　was　a

young　brave；　quick　and　eager　in　his　movements；　and　came　nimbly　up　the　path　to

gain　his　coveted　trophy；　the　paleface's　scalp。



Suddenly　Joe　sat　up；　raised　his　rifle　quickly　as　thought；　and　fired

point…blank　at　the　Indian。



But　he　missed。



The　redskin　stopped　aghast　when　he　saw　the　lad　thus　seemingly　come　back　to

life。　Then；　realizing　that　Joe's　aim　had　been　futile；　he　bounded　forward；

brandishing　his　knife；　and　uttering　infuriated　yells。



Joe　rose　to　his　feet　with　rifle　swung　high　above　his　head。



When　the　savage　was　within　twenty　feet；　so　near　that　big　dark；　face；　swollen

with　fierce　passion；　could　be　plainly　discerned；　a　peculiar　whistling　noise

sounded　over　Joe's　shoulder。　It　was　accompanied；　rather　than　followed；　by　a

clear；　ringing　rifleshot。



The　Indian　stopped　as　if　he　had　encountered　a　heavy　shock　from　a　tree　or　stone

barring　his　way。　Clutching　at　his　breast；　he　uttered　a　weird　cry；　and　sank

slowly　on　the　grass。



Joe　ran　forward　to　bend　over　the　prostrate　figure。　The　Indian；　a　slender；

handsome　young　brave；　had　been　shot　through　the　breast。　He　held　his　hand

tightly　over　the　wound；　while　bright　red　blood　trickled　between　his　fingers；

flowed　down　his　side；　and　stained　the　grass。



The　brave　looked　steadily　up　at　Joe。　Shot　as　he　was；　dying　as　he　knew　himself

to　be；　there　was　no　yielding　in　the　dark　eyeonly　an　unquenchable　hatred。

Then　the　eyes　glazed；　the　fingers　ceased　twitching。



Joe　was　bending　over　a　dead　Indian。



It　flashed　into　his　mind；　of　course；　that　Wetzel　had　come　up　in　time　to　save

his　life；　but　he　did　not　dwell　on　the　thought；　he　shrank　from　this　violent

death　of　a　human　being。　But　it　was　from　the　aspect　of　the　dead；　not　from

remorse　for　the　deed。　His　heart　beat　fast；　his　fingers　trembled；　yet　he