the spirit of the border- 第10部分

of　an　insect。　Absolute　silence　prevailed。



Joe　saw　the　Indian　guard　leaning　against　a　tree；　asleep。　Silvertip　was　gone。

The　captive　raised　his　head　and　looked　around　for　the　chief。　　There　were　only

four　Indians　left；　three　on　the　ground　and　one　against　the　tree。



He　saw　something　shining　near　him。　He　looked　more　closely；　and　made　out　the

object　to　be　an　eagle　plume　Silvertip　had　worn；　in　his　head…dress。　It　lay　on

the　ground　near　the　tree。　Joe　made　some　slight　noise　which　awakened　the　guard。

The　Indian　never　moved　a　muscle；　but　his　eyes　roved　everywhere。　　He；　too；

noticed　the　absence　of　the　chief。



At　this　moment　from　out　of　the　depths　of　the　woods　came　a　swelling　sigh；　like

the　moan　of　the　night　wind。　It　rose　and　died　away；　leaving　the　silence

apparently　all　the　deeper。



A　shudder　ran　over　Joe's　frame。　Fascinated；　he　watched　the　guard。　The　Indian

uttered　a　low　gasp；　his　eyes　started　and　glared　wildly；　he　rose　very　slowly　to

his　full　height　and　stood　waiting；　listening。　The　dark　hand　which　held　the

tomahawk　trembled　so　that　little　glints　of　moonlight　glanced　from　the　bright

steel。



From　far　back　in　the　forest…deeps　came　that　same　low　moaning：



〃Um…m…mm…woo…o…o…o！〃



It　rose　from　a　faint　murmur　and　swelled　to　a　deep　moan；　soft　but　clear；　and

ended　in　a　wail　like　that　of　a　lost　soul。



The　break　it　made　in　that　dead　silence　was　awful。　Joe's　blood　seemed　to　have

curdled　and　frozen；　a　cold　sweat　oozed　from　his　skin；　and　it　was　as　if　a

clammy　hand　clutched　at　his　heart。　He　tried　to　persuade　himself　that　the　fear

displayed　by　the　savage　was　only　superstition；　and　that　that　moan　was　but　the

sigh　of　the　night　wind。



The　Indian　sentinel　stood　as　if　paralyzed　an　instant　after　that　weird　cry；　and

then；　swift　as　a　flash；　and　as　noiseless；　he　was　gone　Into　the　gloomy　forest。

He　had　fled　without　awakening　his　companions。



Once　more　the　moaning　cry　arose　and　swelled　mournfully　on　the　still　night　air。

It　was　close　at　hand！



〃The　Wind　of　Death；〃　whispered　Joe。



He　was　shaken　and　unnerved　by　the　events　of　the　past　two　days；　and　dazed　from

his　wound。　His　strength　deserted　him；　and　he　lost　consciousness。







Chapter　VI。



One　evening；　several　day　previous　to　the　capture　of　the　brothers；　a　solitary

hunter　stopped　before　a　deserted　log　cabin　which　stood　on　the　bank　of　a　stream

fifty　miles　or　more　inland　from　the　Ohio　River。　It　was　rapidly　growing　dark；　a

fine；　drizzling　rain　had　set　in；　and　a　rising　wind　gave　promise　of　a　stormy

night。



Although　the　hunter　seemed　familiar　with　his　surroundings；　he　moved

cautiously；　and　hesitated　as　if　debating　whether　he　should　seek　the　protection

of　this　lonely　hut；　or　remain　all　night　under　dripping　trees。　　Feeling　of　his

hunting　frock；　he　found　that　it　was　damp　and　slippery。　This　fact　evidently

decided　him　in　favor　of　the　cabin；　for　he　stooped　his　tall　figure　and　went　in。

It　was　pitch　dark　inside；　but　having　been　there　before；　the　absence　of　a　light

did　not　trouble　him。　He　readily　found　the　ladder　leading　to　the　loft；　ascended

it；　and　lay　down　to　sleep。



During　the　night　a　noise　awakened　him。　For　a　moment　he　heard　nothing　except

the　fall　of　the　rain。　Then　came　the　hum　of　voices；　followed　by　the　soft　tread

of　moccasined　feet。　He　knew　there　was　an　Indian　town　ten　miles　across　the

country；　and　believed　some　warriors；　belated　on　a　hunting　trip；　had　sought　the

cabin　for　shelter。



The　hunter　lay　perfectly　quiet；　awaiting　developments。　If　the　Indians　had

flint　and　steel；　and　struck　a　light；　he　was　almost　certain　to　be　discovered。

He　listened　to　their　low　conversation；　and　understood　from　the　language　that

they　were　Delawares。



A　moment　later　he　heard　the　rustling　of　leaves　and　twigs；　accompanied　by　the

metallic　click　of　steel　against　some　hard　substance。　The　noise　was　repeated；

and　then　followed　by　a　hissing　sound；　which　he　knew　to　be　the　burning　of　a

powder　on　a　piece　of　dry　wood；　after　which　rays　of　light　filtered　through

cracks　of　the　unstable　floor　of　the　loft。



The　man　placed　his　eye　to　one　of　these　crevices；　and　counted　eleven　Indians；

all　young　braves；　with　the　exception　of　the　chief。　The　Indians　had　been

hunting；　they　had　haunches　of　deer　and　buffalo　tongues；　together　with　several

packs　of　hides。　Some　of　them　busied　themselves　drying　their　weapons；　others

sat　down　listlessly；　plainly　showing　their　weariness；　and　two　worked　over　the

smouldering　fire。　The　damp　leaves　and　twigs　burned　faintly；　yet　there　was

enough　to　cause　the　hunter　fear　that　he　might　be　discovered。　He　believed　he

had　not　much　to　worry　about　from　the　young　braves；　but　the　hawk…eyed　chief　was

dangerous。



And　he　was　right。　Presently　the　stalwart　chief　heard；　or　saw；　a　drop　of　water

fall　from　the　loft。　It　came　from　the　hunter's　wet　coat。　Almost　any　one　save　an

Indian　scout　would　have　fancied　this　came　from　the　roof。　As　the　chief's　gaze

roamed　everywhere　over　the　interior　of　the　cabin　his　expression　was　plainly

distrustful。　His　eye　searched　the　wet　clay　floor；　but　hardly　could　have

discovered　anything　there；　because　the　hunter's　moccasined　tracks　had　been

obliterated　by　the　footprints　of　the　Indians。　　The　chief's　suspicions　seemed

to　be　allayed。



But　in　truth　this　chief；　with　the　wonderful　sagacity　natural　to　Indians；　had

observed　matters　which　totally　escaped　the　young　braves；　and；　like　a　wily　old

fox；　he　waited　to　see　which　cub　would　prove　the　keenest。　Not　one　of　them；

however；　noted　anything　unusual。　They　sat　around　the　fire；　ate　their　meat　and

parched　corn；　and　chatted　volubly。



The　chief　arose　and；　walking　to　the　ladder；　ran　his　hand　along　one　of　the

rungs。



〃Ugh！〃　he　exclaimed。



Instantly　he　was　surrounded　by　ten　eager；　bright…eyed　braves。　He　extended　his

open　palm；　it　was　smeared　with　wet　clay　like　that　under　his　feet。　

Simultaneously　with　their　muttered　exclamations　the　braves　grasped　their

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　trad