the spirit of the border-第33章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！



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

only　a　strange　coldness　in　all　his　being。　The　savage　had　tried　to　kill　him；

perhaps；　even　now；　had　it　not　been　for　the　hunter's　unerring　aim；　would　have

been　gloating　over　a　bloody　scalp。



Joe　felt；　rather　than　heard；　the　approach　of　some　one；　and　he　turned　to　see

Wetzel　coming　down　the　path。



〃He's　a　lone　Shawnee　runner；〃　said　the　hunter；　gazing　down　at　the　dead　Indian。

〃He　was　tryin'　to　win　his　eagle　plumes。　I　seen　you　both　from　the　hillside。〃



〃You　did！〃　exclaimed　Joe。　Then　he　laughed。　〃It　was　lucky　for　me。　I　tried　the

dodge　you　taught　me；　but　in　my　eagerness　I　missed。〃



〃Wal；　you　hadn't　no　call　fer　hurry。　You　worked　the　trick　clever；　but　you

missed　him　when　there　was　plenty　of　time。　I　had　to　shoot　over　your　shoulder；

or　I'd　hev　plugged　him　sooner。〃



〃Where　were　you？〃　asked　Joe。



〃Up　there　by　that　bit　of　sumach？〃　and　Wetzel　pointed　to　an　open　ridge　on　a

hillside　not　less　than　one　hundred　and　fifty　yards　distant。



Joe　wondered　which　of　the　two　bullets；　the　death…seeking　one　fired　by　the

savage；　or　the　life…saving　missile　from　Wetzel's　fatal　weapon；　had　passed

nearest　to　him。



〃Come；〃　said　the　hunter；　after　he　had　scalped　the　Indian。



〃What's　to　be　done　with　this　savage？〃　inquired　Joe；　as　Wetzel　started　up　the

path。



〃Let　him　lay。〃



They　returned　to　camp　without　further　incident。　While　the　hunter　busied

himself　reinforcing　their　temporary　shelterfor　the　clouds　looked

threateningJoe　cut　up　some　buffalo　meat；　and　then　went　down　to　the　brook　for

a　gourd　of　water。　He　came　hurriedly　back　to　where　Wetzel　was　working；　and

spoke　in　a　voice　which　he　vainly　endeavors　to　hold　steady：



〃Come　quickly。　I　have　seen　something　which　may　mean　a　good　deal。〃



He　led　the　way　down　to　the　brookside。



〃Look！〃　Joe　said；　pointing　at　the　water。



Here　the　steam　was　about　two　feet　deep；　perhaps　twenty　wide；　and　had　just　a

noticeable　current。　Shortly　before；　it　had　been　as　clear　as　a　bright　summer

sky；　it　was　now　tinged　with　yellow　clouds　that　slowly　floated　downstream；　each

one　enlarging　and　becoming　fainter　as　the　clear　water　permeated　and　stained。

Grains　of　sand　glided　along　with　the　current；　little　pieces　of　bark　floated　on

the　surface；　and　minnows　darted　to　and　fro　nibbling　at　these　drifting

particles。



〃Deer　wouldn't　roil　the　water　like　that。　What　does　it　mean？〃　asked　Joe。



〃Injuns；　an'　not　fer　away。〃



Wetzel　returned　to　the　shelter　and　tore　it　down。　Then　he　bent　the　branch　of　a

beech　tree　low　over　the　place。　He　pulled　down　another　branch　over　the　remains

of　the　camp…fire。　These　precautions　made　the　spot　less　striking。　　Wetzel　knew

that　an　Indian　scout　never　glances　casually；　his　roving　eyes　survey　the

forest；　perhaps　quickly；　but　thoroughly。　An　unnatural　position　of　bush　or　log

always　leads　to　an　examination。



This　done；　the　hunter　grasped　Joe's　hand　and　led　him　up　the　knoll。　Making　his

way　behind　a　well…screened　tree；　which　had　been　uprooted；　he　selected　a

position　where；　hidden　themselves；　they　could　see　the　creek。



Hardly　had　Wetzel；　admonished　Joe　to　lie　perfectly　still；　when　from　a　short

distance　up　the　stream　came　the　sound　of　splashing　water；　but　nothing　could　be

seen　above　the　open　glade；　as　in　that　direction　willows　lined　the　creek　in

dense　thickets。　The　noise　grew　more　audible。



Suddenly　Joe　felt　a　muscular　contraction　pass　over　the　powerful　frame　lying

close　beside　him。　It　was　a　convulsive　thrill　such　as　passes　through　a　tiger

when　he　is　about　to　spring　upon　his　quarry。　So　subtle　and　strong　was　its

meaning；　so　clearly　did　it　convey　to　the　lad　what　was　coming；　that　he　felt　it

himself；　save　that　in　his　case　it　was　a　cold；　chill　shudder。



Breathless　suspense　followed。　Then　into　the　open　space　along　the　creek　glided

a　tall　Indian　warrior。　He　was　knee…deep　in　the　water；　where　he　waded　with　low；

cautious　steps。　His　garish；　befrilled　costume　seemed　familiar　to　Joe。　He

carried　a　rifle　at　a　low　trail；　and　passed　slowly　ahead　with　evident　distrust。

The　lad　believed　he　recognized　that　head；　with　its　tangled　black　hair；　and

when　he　saw　the　swarthy；　villainous　countenance　turned　full　toward　him；　he

exclaimed：



〃Girty！　by…〃



Wetzel's　powerful　arm　forced　him　so　hard　against　the　log　that　he　could　not

complete　the　exclamation；　but　he　could　still　see。　Girty　had　not　heard　that

stifled　cry；　for　he　continued　his　slow　wading；　and　presently　his　tall；　gaudily

decorated　form　passed　out　of　sight。



Another　savage　appeared　in　the　open　space；　and　then　another。　Close　between

them　walked　a　white　man；　with　hands　bound　behind　him。　The　prisoner　and　guards

disappeared　down　stream　among　the　willows。



The　splashing　continuedgrew　even　louder　than　before。　A　warrior　came　into

view；　then　another；　and　another。　They　walked　close　together。　　Two　more

followed。　They　were　wading　by　the　side　of　a　raft　made　of　several　logs；　upon

which　were　two　prostrate　figures　that　closely　resembled　human　beings。



Joe　was　so　intent　upon　the　lithe　forms　of　the　Indians　that　he　barely　got　a

glimpse　of　their　floating　prize；　whatever　it　might　have　been。　　Bringing　up　the

rear　was　an　athletic　warrior；　whose　broad　shoulders；　sinewy　arms；　and　shaved；

polished　head　Joe　remembered　well。　It　was　the　Shawnee　chief；　Silvertip。



When　he；　too；　passed　out　of　sight　in　the　curve　of　willows；　Joe　found　himself

trembling。　He　turned　eagerly　to　Wetzel；　but　instantly　recoiled。



Terrible；　indeed；　had　been　the　hunter's　transformation。　All　calmness　of　facial

expression　was　gone；　he　was　now　stern；　somber。　An　intense　emotion　was　visible

in　his　white　face；　his　eyes　seemed　reduced　to　two　dark　shining　points；　and

they　emitted　so　fierce；　so　piercing　a　flash；　so　deadly　a　light；　that　Joe　could

not　bear　their　glittering　gaze。



〃Three　white　captives；　two　of　'em　women；〃　uttered　the　hunter；　as　if　weighing

in　his　mind　the　importance　of　this　fact。



〃Were　those　women　on　the　raft？〃　questioned　Joe；　and　as　Wetzel　only　nodded；　he

continued；　〃A　white　man　and　two　women；　six　warriors；　Silvertip；　and　that

renegade；　Jim　Girty！〃



Wetzel　deigned　not　to　answer　Joe's　passionate　outburst；　but　maintained　silence

and　his　rigid　posture。　Joe　glanced　once　more　at　the　stern　face。



〃Considering　we'd　go　after　Girty　and　his　redskins　if　they　were　alone；　we're

pretty　likely　to　go　quicker　now　that　they've　got　white　women　prisoners；　eh？〃

and　Joe　laughed　fiercely　between　his　teeth。



The　lad's　heart　expanded；　while　along　every　nerve　tingled　an　exquisite　thrill

of　excitement。　He　had　yearned　for　wild；　border　life。　Here　he　was　in　it；　with

the　hunter　whose　name　alone　was　to　the　savages　a　symbol　for　all　that　was

terrible。



Wetzel　evidently　decided　quickly　on　what　was　to　be　done；　for　in　few　words　he

directed　Joe　to　cut　up　so　much　of　the　buffalo　meat　as　they　could　stow　in　their

pockets。　Then；　bidding　the　lad　to　follow；　he　turned　into　the　woods；　walking

rapidly；　and　stopping　now　and　then　for　a　brief　instant。　Soon　they　emerged　from

the　forest　into　more　open　country。　They　faced　a　wide　plain　skirted　on　the

right　by　a　long；　winding　strip　of　bright　green　willows　which　marked　the　course

of　the　stream。　On　the　edge　of　this　plain　Wetzel　broke　into　a　run。　He　kept　this

pace　for　a　distance　of　an　hundred　yards；　then　stopped　to　listen　intently　as　he

glanced　sharply　on　all　sides；　after　which　he　was　off　again。



Half　way　across　this　plain　Joe's　wind　began　to　fail；　and　his　breathing　became

labored；　but　he　kept　close　to　the　hunter's　heels。　Once　he　looked　back　to　see　a

great　wide　expanse　of　waving　grass。　They　had　covered　perhaps　four　miles　at　a

rapid　pace；　and　were　nearing　the　other　side　of　the　plain。　　The　lad　felt　as　if

his　head　was　about　to　burst；　a　sharp　pain　seized　upon　his　side；　a　blood…red

film　obscured　his　sight。　He　kept　doggedly　on；　and　when　utterly　exhausted　fell

to　the　ground。



When；　a　few　minutes　later；　having　recovered　his　breath；　he　got　up；　they　had

crossed　t