the spirit of the border-第51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！





〃Why；　you　are　learning　every　day；　and　even　if　such　was　not　the　case；　you　know

enough　for　me。〃



〃Whispering　Winds　will　be　afraid；　she　fears　a　little　to　go。〃



〃I'll　be　glad　when　we　can　be　on　the　move；〃　said　Joe；　with　his　old　impatient

desire　for　action。　〃How　soon；　Winds；　can　we　set　off？〃



〃As　many　days；〃　answered　the　Indian　girl；　holding　up　five　fingers。



〃So　long？　I　want　to　leave　this　place。〃



〃Leave　Beautiful　Spring？〃



〃Yes；　even　this　sweet　place。　It　has　a　horror　for　me。　I'll　never　forget　the

night　I　first　saw　that　spring　shining　in　the　moonlight。　It　was　right　above　the

rock　that　I　looked　into　the　glade。　The　moon　was　reflected　in　the　dark　pool；

and　as　I　gazed　into　the　shadowy　depths　of　the　dark　water　I　suddenly　felt　an

unaccountable　terror；　but　I　oughtn't　to　have　the　same　feeling　now。　We　are

safe；　are　we　not？〃



〃We　are　safe；〃　murmured　Whispering　Winds。



〃Yet　I　have　the　same　chill　of　fear　whenever　I　look　at　the　beautiful　spring；

and　at　night　as　I　awake　to　hear　the　soft　babble　of　running　water；　I　freeze

until　my　heart　feels　like　cold　lead。　Winds；　I'm　not　a　coward；　but　I　can't　help

this　feeling。　Perhaps；　it's　only　the　memory　of　that　awful　night　with　Wetzel。〃



〃An　Indian　feels　so　when　he　passes　to　his　unmarked　grave；〃　answered　Winds；

gazing　solemnly　at　him。　〃Whispering　Winds　does　not　like　this　fancy　of　yours。

Let　us　leave　Beautiful　Spring。　You　are　almost　well。　Ah！　if　Whispering　Winds

should　lose　you！　I　love　you！〃



〃And　I　love　you；　my　beautiful　wild　flower；〃　answered　Joe；　stroking　the　dark

head　so　near　his　own。



A　tender　smile　shone　on　his　face。　He　heard　a　slight　noise　without　the　cave；

and；　looking　up；　saw　that　which　caused　the　smile　to　fade　quickly。



〃Mose！〃　he　called；　sharply。　The　dog　was　away　chasing　rabbits。



Whispering　Winds　glanced　over　her　shoulder　with　a　startled　cry；　which　ended　in

a　scream。



Not　two　yards　behind　her　stood　Jim　Girty。



Hideous　was　his　face　in　its　triumphant　ferocity。　He　held　a　long　knife　in　his

hand；　and；　snarling　like　a　mad　wolf；　he　made　a　forward　lunge。



Joe　raised　himself　quickly；　but　almost　before　he　could　lift　his　hand　in

defense；　the　long　blade　was　sheathed　in　his　breast。



Slowly　he　sank　back；　his　gray　eyes　contracting　with　the　old　steely　flash。　　The

will　to　do　was　there；　but　the　power　was　gone　forever。



〃Remember；　Girty；　murderer！　I　am　Wetzel's　friend；〃　he　cried；　gazing　at　his

slayer　with　unutterable　scorn。



Then　the　gray　eyes　softened；　and　sought　the　blanched　face　of　the　stricken

maiden。



〃Winds；〃　he　whispered　faintly。



She　was　as　one　frozen　with　horror。



The　gray　eyes　gazed　into　hers　with　lingering　tenderness；　then　the　film　of

death　came　upon　them。



The　renegade　raised　his　bloody　knife；　and　bent　over　the　prostrate　form。



Whispering　Winds　threw　herself　upon　Girty　with　the　blind　fury　of　a　maddened

lioness。　Cursing　fiercely；　he　stabbed　her　once；　twice；　three　times。　She　fell

across　the　body　of　her　lover；　and　clasped　it　convulsively。



Girty　gave　one　glance　at　his　victims；　deliberately　wiped　the　gory　knife　on

Wind's　leggins；　and；　with　another　glance；　hurried　and　fearful；　around　the

glade；　he　plunged　into　the　thicket。



An　hour　passed。　A　dark　stream　crept　from　the　quiet　figures　toward　the　spring。

It　dyed　the　moss　and　the　green　violet　leaves。　Slowly　it　wound　its　way　to　the

clear　water；　dripping　between　the　pale　blue　flowers。　The　little　fall　below　the

spring　was　no　longer　snowy　white；　blood　had　tinged　it　red。



A　dog　came　bounding　into　the　glade。　He　leaped　the　brook；　hesitated　on　the

bank；　and　lowered　his　nose　to　sniff　at　the　water。　He　bounded　up　the　bank　to

the　cavern。



A　long；　mournful　howl　broke　the　wilderness's　quiet。



Another　hour　passed。　The　birds　were　silent；　the　insects　still。　The　sun　sank

behind　the　trees；　and　the　shades　of　evening　gathered。



The　ferns　on　the　other　side　of　the　glade　trembled。　A　slight　rustle　of　dead

leaves　disturbed　the　stillness。　The　dog　whined；　then　barked。　The　tall　form　of

a　hunter　rose　out　of　the　thicket；　and　stepped　into　the　glade　with　his　eyes

bent　upon　moccasin　tracks　in　the　soft　moss。



The　trail　he　had　been　following　led　him　to　this　bloody　spring。



〃I　might　hev　knowed　it；〃　he　muttered。



Wetzel；　for　it　was　he；　leaned　upon　his　long　rifle　while　his　keen　eyes　took　in

the　details　of　the　tragedy。　The　whining　dog；　the　bloody　water；　the　motionless

figures　lying　in　a　last　embrace；　told　the　sad　story。



〃Joe　an'　Winds；〃　he　muttered。



Only　a　moment　did　he　remain　lost　in　sad　reflection　A　familiar　moccasin…print

in　the　sand　on　the　bank　pointed　westward。　He　examined　it　carefully。



〃Two　hours　gone；〃　he　muttered。　〃I　might　overtake　him。〃



Then　his　motions　became　swift。　With　two　blows　of　his　tomahawk　he　secured　a

long　piece　of　grapevine。　He　took　a　heavy　stone　from　the　bed　of　the　brook。　He

carried　Joe　to　the　spring；　and；　returning　for　Winds；　placed　her　beside　her

lover。　This　done；　he　tied　one　end　of　the　grapevine　around　the　stone；　and　wound

the　other　about　the　dead　bodies。



He　pushed　them　off　the　bank　into　the　spring。　As　the　lovers　sank　into　the　deep

pool　they　turned；　exposing　first　Winds'　sad　face；　and　then　Joe's。　Then　they

sank　out　of　sight。　Little　waves　splashed　on　the　shore　of　the　pool；　the　ripple

disappeared；　and　the　surface　of　the　spring　became　tranquil。



Wetzel　stood　one　moment　over　the　watery　grave　of　the　maiden　who　had　saved　him；

and　the　boy　who　had　loved　him。　In　the　gathering　gloom　his　stalwart　form

assumed　gigantic　proportions；　and　when　he　raised　his　long　arm　and　shook　his

clenched　fist　toward　the　west；　he　resembled　a　magnificent　statue　of　dark

menace。



With　a　single　bound　he　cleared　the　pool；　and　then　sped　out　of　the　glade。　　He

urged　the　dog　on　Girty's　trail；　and　followed　the　eager　beast　toward　the　west。

As　he　disappeared；　a　long；　low　sound　like　the　sigh　of　the　night　wind　swelled

and　moaned　through　the　gloom。







Chapter　XXIV。



When　the　first　ruddy　rays　of　the　rising　sun　crimsoned　the　eastern　sky；　Wetzel

slowly　wound　his　way　down　a　rugged　hill　far　west　of　Beautiful　Spring。　A　white

dog；　weary　and　footsore；　limped　by　his　side。　Both　man　and　beast　showed

evidence　of　severe　exertion。



The　hunter　stopped　in　a　little　cave　under　a　projecting　stone；　and；　laying

aside　his　rifle；　began　to　gather　twigs　and　sticks。　He　was　particular　about

selecting　the　wood；　and　threw　aside　many　pieces　which　would　have　burned　well；

but　when　he　did　kindle　a　flame　it　blazed　hotly；　yet　made　no　smoke。



He　sharpened　a　green　stick；　and；　taking　some　strips　of　meat　from　his　pocket；

roasted　them　over　the　hot　flame。　He　fed　the　dog　first。　Mose　had　crouched　close

on　the　ground　with　his　head　on　his　paws；　and　his　brown　eyes　fastened　upon　the

hunter。



〃He　had　too　big　a　start　fer　us；〃　said　Wetzel；　speaking　as　if　the　dog　were

human。　It　seemed　that　Wetzel's　words　were　a　protest　against　the　meaning　in

those　large；　sad　eyes。



Then　the　hunter　put　out　the　fire；　and；　searching　for　a　more　secluded　spot；

finally　found　one　on　top　of　the　ledge；　where　he　commanded　a　good　view　of　his

surroundings。　The　weary　dog　was　asleep。　Wetzel　settled　himself　to　rest；　and

was　soon　wrapped　in　slumber。



About　noon　he　awoke。　He　arose；　stretched　his　limbs；　and　then　took　an　easy

position　on　the　front　of　the　ledge；　where　he　could　look　below。　　Evidently　the

hunter　was　waiting　for　something。　The　dog　slept　on。　　It　was　the　noonday　hour；

when　the　stillness　of　the　forest　almost　matched　that　of　midnight。　The　birds

were　more　quiet　than　at　any　other　time　during　daylight。



Wetzel　reclined　there　with　his　head　against　the　stone；　and　his　rifle　resting

across　his　knees。



He　listened　now　to　the　sounds　of　the　forest。　The　soft　breeze　fluttering　among

the　leaves；　the　rain…call　of　the　tree　frog；　the　caw　of　crows　from　distant

hilltops；　the　sweet　songs　of　the　thrush　and　oriole；　were　blended　together

naturally；　harmoniously。



But　suddenly　the　hunter　raised　his　head。