Zane Grey (18 page)

"I'll allow he must be a fighter; but I ain't afraid of him."

"That's not the question. I am talking sense. You've got a chance now
to put one of these bordermen out of the way. Do it quick! That's
my advice."

Brandt spoke so vehemently that Legget seemed impressed. He stroked
his yellow beard, and puffed thoughtfully on his pipe. Presently he
addressed the Shawnee chief in the native tongue.

"Will Ashbow take five horses for his prisoner?"

The Indian shook his head.

"How many will he take?"

The chief strode with dignity to and fro before his captive. His dark,
impassive face gave no clew to his thoughts; but his lofty bearing,
his measured, stately walk were indicative of great pride. Then he
spoke in his deep bass:

"The Shawnee knows the woods from the Great Lakes where the sun sets,
to the Blue Hills where it rises. He has met the great paleface
hunters. Only for Deathwind will Ashbow trade his captive."

"See? It ain't no use," said Legget, spreading out his hands, "Let him
go. He'll outwit the bordermen if any redskin's able to. The sooner he
goes the quicker he'll git back, an' we can go to work. You ought'er
be satisfied to git the girl—"

"Shut up!" interrupted Brandt sharply.

"'Pears to me, Brandt, bein' in love hes kinder worked on your nerves.
You used to be game. Now you're afeerd of a bound an' tied man who
ain't got long to live."

"I fear no man," answered Brandt, scowling darkly. "But I know what
you don't seem to have sense enough to see. If this Zane gets away,
which is probable, he and Wetzel will clean up your gang."

"Haw! haw! haw!" roared Legget, slapping his knees. "Then you'd hev
little chanst of gittin' the lass, eh?"

"All right. I've no more to say," snapped Brandt, rising and turning
on his heel. As he passed Jonathan he paused. "Zane, if I could, I'd
get even with you for that punch you once gave me. As it is, I'll stop
at the Shawnee village on my way west—"

"With the pretty lass," interposed Legget.

"Where I hope to see your scalp drying in the chief's lodge."

The borderman eyed him steadily; but in silence. Words could not so
well have conveyed his thought as did the cold glance of dark scorn
and merciless meaning.

Brandt shuffled on with a curse. No coward was he. No man ever saw him
flinch. But his intelligence was against him as a desperado. While
such as these bordermen lived, an outlaw should never sleep, for he
was a marked and doomed man. The deadly, cold-pointed flame which
scintillated in the prisoner's eyes was only a gleam of what the
border felt towards outlaws.

While Jonathan was considering all he had heard, three more Shawnees
entered the retreat, and were at once called aside in consultation by
Ashbow. At the conclusion of this brief conference the chief advanced
to Jonathan, cut the bonds round his feet, and motioned for him to
rise. The prisoner complied to find himself weak and sore, but able to
walk. He concluded that his wound, while very painful, was not of a
serious nature, and that he would be taken at once on the march toward
the Shawnee village.

He was correct, for the chief led him, with the three Shawnees
following, toward the outlet of the enclosure. Jonathan's sharp eye
took in every detail of Legget's rendezvous. In a corral near the
entrance, he saw a number of fine horses, and among them his sister's
pony. A more inaccessible, natural refuge than Legget's, could hardly
have been found in that country. The entrance was a narrow opening in
the wall, and could be held by half a dozen against an army of
besiegers. It opened, moreover, on the side of a barren hill, from
which could be had a good survey of the surrounding forests
and plains.

As Jonathan went with his captors down the hill his hopes, which while
ever alive, had been flagging, now rose. The long journey to the
Shawnee town led through an untracked wilderness. The Delaware
villages lay far to the north; the Wyandot to the west. No likelihood
was there of falling in with a band of Indians hunting, because this
region, stony, barren, and poorly watered, afforded sparse pasture for
deer or bison. From the prisoner's point of view this enterprise of
Ashbow's was reckless and vainglorious. Cunning as the chief was, he
erred in one point, a great warrior's only weakness, love of show, of
pride, of his achievement. In Indian nature this desire for fame was
as strong as love of life. The brave risked everything to win his
eagle feathers, and the matured warrior found death while keeping
bright the glory of the plumes he had won.

Wetzel was in the woods, fleet as a deer, fierce and fearless as a
lion. Somewhere among those glades he trod, stealthily, with the ears
of a doe and eyes of a hawk strained for sound or sight of his
comrade's captors. When he found their trail he would stick to it as
the wolf to that of a bleeding buck's. The rescue would not be
attempted until the right moment, even though that came within
rifle-shot of the Shawnee encampment. Wonderful as his other gifts,
was the borderman's patience.

"Good morning, Colonel Zane," said Helen cheerily, coming into the
yard where the colonel was at work. "Did Will come over this way?"

"I reckon you'll find him if you find Betty," replied Colonel Zane
dryly.

"Come to think of it, that's true," Helen said, laughing. "I've a
suspicion Will ran off from me this morning."

"He and Betty have gone nutting."

"I declare it's mean of Will," Helen said petulantly. "I have been
wanting to go so much, and both he and Betty promised to take me."

"Say, Helen, let me tell you something," said the colonel, resting on
his spade and looking at her quizzically. "I told them we hadn't had
enough frost yet to ripen hickory-nuts and chestnuts. But they went
anyhow. Will did remember to say if you came along, to tell you he'd
bring the colored leaves you wanted."

"How extremely kind of him. I've a mind to follow them."

"Now see here, Helen, it might be a right good idea for you not to,"
returned the colonel, with a twinkle and a meaning in his eye.

"Oh, I understand. How singularly dull I've been."

"It's this way. We're mighty glad to have a fine young fellow like
Will come along and interest Betty. Lord knows we had a time with her
after Alfred died. She's just beginning to brighten up now, and,
Helen, the point is that young people on the border must get married.
No, my dear, you needn't laugh, you'll have to find a husband same as
the other girls. It's not here as it was back east, where a lass might
have her fling, so to speak, and take her time choosing. An unmarried
girl on the border is a positive menace. I saw, not many years ago,
two first-rate youngsters, wild with border fire and spirit, fight and
kill each other over a lass who wouldn't choose. Like as not, if she
had done so, the three would have been good friends, for out here
we're like one big family. Remember this, Helen, and as far as Betty
and Will are concerned you will be wise to follow our example: Leave
them to themselves. Nothing else will so quickly strike fire between a
boy and a girl."

"Betty and Will! I'm sure I'd love to see them care for each other."
Then with big, bright eyes bent gravely on him she continued, "May I
ask, Colonel Zane, who you have picked out for me?"

"There, now you've said it, and that's the problem. I've looked over
every marriageable young man in the settlement, except Jack. Of
course you couldn't care for him, a borderman, a fighter and all that;
but I can't find a fellow I think quite up to you."

"Colonel Zane, is not a borderman such as Jonathan worthy a woman's
regard?" Helen asked a little wistfully.

"Bless your heart, lass, yes!" replied Colonel Zane heartily. "People
out here are not as they are back east. An educated man, polished and
all that, but incapable of hard labor, or shrinking from dirt and
sweat on his hands, or even blood, would not help us in the winning of
the West. Plain as Jonathan is, and with his lack of schooling, he is
greatly superior to the majority of young men on the frontier. But,
unlettered or not, he is as fine a man as ever stepped in moccasins,
or any other kind of foot gear."

"Then why did you say—that—what you did?"

"Well, it's this way," replied Colonel Zane, stealing a glance at her
pensive, downcast face. "Girls all like to be wooed. Almost every one
I ever knew wanted the young man of her choice to outstrip all her
other admirers, and then, for a spell, nearly die of love for her,
after which she'd give in. Now, Jack, being a borderman, a man with no
occupation except scouting, will never look at a girl, let alone make
up to her. I imagine, my dear, it'd take some mighty tall courting to
fetch home Helen Sheppard a bride. On the other hand, if some pretty
and spirited lass, like, say for instance, Helen Sheppard, would come
along and just make Jack forget Indians and fighting, she'd get the
finest husband in the world. True, he's wild; but only in the woods. A
simpler, kinder, cleaner man cannot be found."

"I believe that, Colonel Zane; but where is the girl who would
interest him?" Helen asked with spirit. "These bordermen are
unapproachable. Imagine a girl interesting that great, cold, stern
Wetzel! All her flatteries, her wiles, the little coquetries that
might attract ordinary men, would not be noticed by him, or
Jonathan either."

"I grant it'd not be easy, but woman was made to subjugate man, and
always, everlastingly, until the end of life here on this beautiful
earth, she will do it."

"Do you think Jonathan and Wetzel will catch Brandt?" asked Helen,
changing the subject abruptly.

"I'd stake my all that this year's autumn leaves will fall on Brandt's
grave."

Colonel Zane's calm, matter-of-fact coldness made Helen shiver.

"Why, the leaves have already begun to fall. Papa told me Brandt had
gone to join the most powerful outlaw band on the border. How can
these two men, alone, cope with savages, as I've heard they do, and
break up such an outlaw band as Legget's?"

"That's a question I've heard Daniel Boone ask about Wetzel, and
Boone, though not a borderman in all the name implies, was a great
Indian fighter. I've heard old frontiersmen, grown grizzled on the
frontier, use the same words. I've been twenty years with that man,
yet I can't answer it. Jonathan, of course, is only a shadow of him;
Wetzel is the type of these men who have held the frontier for us. He
was the first borderman, and no doubt he'll be the last."

"What have Jonathan and Wetzel that other men do not possess?"

"In them is united a marvelously developed woodcraft, with wonderful
physical powers. Imagine a man having a sense, almost an animal
instinct, for what is going on in the woods. Take for instance the
fleetness of foot. That is one of the greatest factors. It is
absolutely necessary to run, to get away when to hold ground would be
death. Whether at home or in the woods, the bordermen retreat every
day. You wouldn't think they practiced anything of the kind, would
you? Well, a man can't be great in anything without keeping at it.
Jonathan says he exercises to keep his feet light. Wetzel would just
as soon run as walk. Think of the magnificent condition of these men.
When a dash of speed is called for, when to be fleet of foot is to
elude vengeance-seeking Indians, they must travel as swiftly as the
deer. The Zanes were all sprinters. I could do something of the kind;
Betty was fast on her feet, as that old fort will testify until the
logs rot; Isaac was fleet, too, and Jonathan can get over the ground
like a scared buck. But, even so, Wetzel can beat him."

"Goodness me, Helen!" exclaimed the colonel's buxom wife, from the
window, "don't you ever get tired hearing Eb talk of Wetzel, and Jack,
and Indians? Come in with me. I venture to say my gossip will do you
more good than his stories."

Therefore Helen went in to chat with Mrs. Zane, for she was always
glad to listen to the colonel's wife, who was so bright and pleasant,
so helpful and kindly in her womanly way. In the course of their
conversation, which drifted from weaving linsey, Mrs. Zane's
occupation at the tune, to the costly silks and satins of remembered
days, and then to matters of more present interest, Helen spoke of
Colonel Zane's hint about Will and Betty.

"Isn't Eb a terror? He's the worst matchmatcher you ever saw,"
declared the colonel's good spouse.

"There's no harm in that."

"No, indeed; it's a good thing, but he makes me laugh, and Betty, he
sets her furious."

"The colonel said he had designs on me."

"Of course he has, dear old Eb! How he'd love to see you happily
married. His heart is as big as that mountain yonder. He has given
this settlement his whole life."

"I believe you. He has such interest, such zeal for everybody. Only
the other day he was speaking to me of Mr. Mordaunt, telling how sorry
he was for the Englishman, and how much he'd like to help him. It does
seem a pity a man of Mordaunt's blood and attainments should sink to
utter worthlessness."

"Yes,'tis a pity for any man, blood or no, and the world's full of
such wrecks. I always liked that man's looks. I never had a word with
him, of course; but I've seen him often, and something about him
appealed to me. I don't believe it was just his handsome face; still I
know women are susceptible that way."

"I, too, liked him once as a friend," said Helen feelingly. "Well, I'm
glad he's gone."

"Gone?"

"Yes, he left Fort Henry yesterday. He came to say good-bye to me,
and, except for his pale face and trembling hands, was much as he used
to be in Virginia. Said he was going home to England, and wanted to
tell me he was sorry—for—for all he'd done to make papa and me
suffer. Drink had broken him, he said, and surely he looked 'a broken
man. I shook hands with him, and then slipped upstairs and cried."