the spirit of the border- 第23部分

〃Yes；　I　got　a　squirrel　for　every　shot。〃



Wetzel　led　the　way　along　a　narrow　foot　trail　which　gradually　wound　toward　the

top　of　the　ravine。　This　path　emerged　presently；　some　distance　above　the　falls；

on　the　brink　of　a　bluff。　It　ran　along　the　edge　of　the　precipice　a　few　yards；

then　took　a　course　back　into　densely　wooded　thickets。　Just　before　stepping　out

on　the　open　cliff　Wetzel　paused　and　peered　keenly　on　all　sides。　There　was　no

living　thing　to　be　seen；　the　silence　was　the　deep；　unbroken　calm　of　the

wilderness。



Wetzel　stepped　to　the　bluff　and　looked　over。　The　stony　wall　opposite　was　only

thirty　feet　away；　and　somewhat　lower。　From　Wetzel's　action　it　appeared　as　if

he　intended　to　leap　the　fissure。　In　truth；　many　a　band　of　Indians　pursuing　the

hunter　into　this　rocky　fastness　had　come　out　on　the　bluff；　and；　marveling　at

what　they　thought　Wetzel's　prowess；　believed　he　had　made　a　wonderful　leap；

thus　eluding　them。　But　he　had　never　attempted　that　leap；　first；　because　he

knew　it　was　well…nigh　impossible；　and　secondly；　there　had　never　been　any

necessity　for　such　risk。



Any　one　leaning　over　this　cliff　would　have　observed；　perhaps　ten　feet　below；　a

narrow　ledge　projecting　from　the　face　of　the　rock。　He　would　have　imagined　if

he　were　to　drop　on　that　ledge　there　would　be　no　way　to　get　off　and　he　would　be

in　a　worse　predicament。



Without　a　moment's　hesitation　Wetzel　swung　himself　over　the　ledge。　　Joe

followed　suit。　At　one　end　of　this　lower　ledge　grew　a　hardy　shrub　of　the

ironwood　species；　and　above　it　a　scrub　pine　leaned　horizontally　out　over　the

ravine。　Laying　his　rifle　down；　Wetzel　grasped　a　strong　root　and　cautiously

slid　over　the　side。　When　all　of　his　body　had　disappeared；　with　the　exception

of　his　sinewy　fingers；　they　loosened　their　hold　on　the　root；　grasped　the

rifle；　and　dragged　it　down　out　of　sight。　Quietly；　with　similar　caution；　Joe

took　hold　of　the　same　root；　let　himself　down；　and　when　at　full　length　swung

himself　in　under　the　ledge。　His　feet　found　a　pocket　in　the　cliff。　Letting　go

of　the　root；　he　took　his　rifle；　and　in　another　second　was　safe。



Of　all　Wetzel's　retreatsfor　he　had　manyhe　considered　this　one　the　safest。

The　cavern　under　the　ledge　he　had　discovered　by　accident。　One　day；　being　hotly

pursued　by　Shawnees；　he　had　been　headed　off　on　this　cliff；　and　had　let　himself

down　on　the　ledge；　intending　to　drop　from　it　to　the　tops　of　the　trees　below。

Taking　advantage　of　every　little　aid；　he　hung　over　by　means　of　the　shrub；　and

was　in　the　act　of　leaping　when　he　saw　that　the　cliff　shelved　under　the　ledge；

while　within　reach　of　his　feet　was　the　entrance　to　a　cavern。　He　found　the　cave

to　be　small　with　an　opening　at　the　back　into　a　split　in　the　rock。　Evidently

the　place　had　been　entered　from　the　rear　by　bears；　who　used　the　hole　for

winter　sleeping　quarters。　　By　crawling　on　his　hands　and　knees；　Wetzel　found

the　rear　opening。　Thus　he　had　established　a　hiding　place　where　it　was　almost

impossible　to　locate　him。　He　provisioned　his　retreat；　which　he　always　entered

by　the　cliff　and　left　by　the　rear。



An　evidence　of　Wetzel's　strange　nature；　and　of　his　love　for　this　wild　home；

manifested　itself　when　he　bound　Joe　to　secrecy。　It　was　unlikely；　even　if　the

young　man　ever　did　get　safely　out　of　the　wilderness；　that　any　stories　he　might

relate　would　reveal　the　hunter's　favorite　rendezvous。　But　Wetzel　seriously

demanded　this　secrecy；　as　earnestly　as　if　the　forest　were　full　of　Indians　and

white　men；　all　prowling　in　search　of　his　burrow。



Joe　was　in　the　seventh　heaven　of　delight；　and　took　to　the　free　life　as　a　wild

gosling　takes　to　the　water。　No　place　had　ever　appealed　to　him　as　did　this

dark；　silent　hole　far　up　on　the　side　of　a　steep　cliff。　His　interest　in　Wetzel

soon　passed　into　a　great　admiration；　and　from　that　deepened　to　love。



This　afternoon；　when　they　were　satisfied　that　all　was　well　within　their

refuge；　Joe　laid　aside　his　rifle；　and；　whistling　softly；　began　to　prepare

supper。　The　back　part　of　the　cave　permitted　him　to　stand　erect；　and　was　large

enough　for　comparative　comfort。　There　was　a　neat；　little　stone　fireplace；　and

several　cooking　utensils　and　gourds。　From　time　to　time　Wetzel　had　brought

these　things。　A　pile　of　wood　and　a　bundle　of　pine　cones　lay　in　one　corner。

Haunches　of　dried　beef；　bear　and　buffalo　meat　hung　from　pegs；　a　bag　of　parched

corn；　another　of　dried　apples　lay　on　a　rocky　shelf。　　Nearby　hung　a　powder…horn

filled　with　salt　and　pepper。　In　the　cleft　back　of　the　cave　was　a　spring　of

clear；　cold　water。



The　wants　of　woodsmen　are　few　and　simple。　Joe　and　Wetzel；　with　appetites

whetted　by　their　stirring　outdoor　life；　relished　the　frugal　fare　as　they　could

never　have　enjoyed　a　feast。　As　the　shadows　of　evening　entered　the　cave；　they

lighted　their　pipes　to　partake　of　the　hunter's　sweetest　solace；　a　quiet　smoke。



Strange　as　it　may　appear；　this　lonely；　stern　Indian…hunter　and　the　reckless；

impulsive　boy　were　admirably　suited　for　companionship。　Wetzel　had　taken　a

liking　to　the　young　man　when　he　led　the　brothers　to　Fort　Henry。　Subsequent

events　strengthened　his　liking；　and　now；　many　days　after；　Joe　having　followed

him　into　the　forest；　a　strong　attachment　had　been　insensibly　forged　between

them。



Wetzel　understood　Joe's　burning　desire　to　roam　the　forests；　but　he　half

expected　the　lad　would　soon　grow　tired　of　this　roving　life；　but　exactly　the

opposite　symptoms　were　displayed。　The　hunter　had　intended　to　take　his　comrade

on　a　hunting　trip；　and　to　return　with　him；　after　that　was　over；　to　Fort　Henry。

They　had　now　been　in　the　woods　for　weeks　and　every　day　in　some　way　had　Joe

showed　his　mettle。　Wetzel　finally　admitted　him　into　the　secrets　of　his　most

cherished　hiding　place。　He　did　not　want　to　hurt　the　lad's　feelings　by　taking

him　back　to　the　settlement；　he　could　not　send　him　back。　So　the　days　wore　on

swiftly；　full　of　heart…satisfying　incident　and　life；　with　man　and　boy　growing

closer　in　an　intimacy　that　was　as　warm　as　it　was　unusual。



Two　reasons　might　account　for　this：　First；　there　is　no　sane　human　being　who　is

not　better　off　for　companionship。　An　exile　would　find　something　of　happiness

in　one　who　shared　his　misery。　And；　secondly；　Joe　was　a　most　acceptable

comrade；　even　for　a　slayer　of　Indians。　Wedded　as　Wetzel　was　to　the　forest

trails；　to　his　lonely　life；　to　the　Nemesis…pursuit　he　had　followed　for

eighteen　long　years；　he　was　still　a　white　man；　kind　and　gentle　in　his　quiet

hours；　and　because　of　this；　though　he　knew　it　not；　still　capable　of　affection。

He　had　never　known　youth；　his　manhood　had　been　one　pitiless　warfare　against

his　sworn　foes；　but　once　in　all　those　years　had　his　sore；　cold　heart　warmed；

and　that　was　toward　a　woman　who　was　not　for　him。　His　life　had　held　only　one

purposea　bloody　one。　Yet　the　man　had　a　heart；　and　he　could　not　prevent　it

from　responding　to　another。　In　his　simple　ignorance　he　rebelled　against　this

affection　for　anything　other　than　his　forest　homes。　Man　is　weak　against　hate；

what　can　he　avail　against　love？　The　dark　caverns　of　Wetzel's　great　heart

opened；　admitting　to　their　gloomy　depths　this　stranger。　So　now　a　new　love　was

born　in　that　cheerless　heart；　where　for　so　long　a　lonely　inmate；　the　ghost　of

old　love；　had　dwelt　in　chill　seclusion。



The　feeling　of　comradeship　which　Wetzel　had　for　Joe　was　something　altogether

new　in　the　hunter's　life。　True　he　had　hunted　with　Jonathan　Zane；　and

accompanied　expeditions　where　he　was　forced　to　sleep　with　another　scout；　but　a

companion；　not　to　say　friend；　he　had　never　known。　　Joe　was　a　boy；　wilder　than

an　eagle；　yet　he　was　a　man。　He　was　happy　and　enthusiastic；　still　his　good

spirits　never　jarred　on　the　hunter；　they　were　restrained。　He　never　asked

questions；　as　would　seem　the　case　in　any　eager　lad；　he　waited　until　he　was

spoken　to。　He　was　apt；　he　never　forgot　anything；　he　had　the　eye　of　a　born

woodsman；　and　lastly；　perhaps　what　went　far　with　Wetzel；　he　was　as　strong　and

supple　as　a　young　lynx；　and　absolutely　fearless。



On　this　evening　Wetzel　and　Joe　followed　their　usual　custom；　they　smoked　a

while　before　lying　down　to　sleep。　Tonight　the　hunter　was　even　more　silent　than

usual；　and　the　lad；　tired　out　with　his　day's　tramp；　lay　down　on　a　bed　of

fragrant　boughs。



Wetzel　sat　there　in　the　gathering　gloom　while　he　pulled　slowly　on　his　pipe。　

The　evening　was　very　quiet；　the　birds　had　ceased　their　twittering；　the　wind

had　died　away；　it　was　too　early　for　the　bay　of　a　wolf；　the　wail　of　a　panther；

or　hoot　of　an　owl；　there　was　simply　perfect　silence。



The　lad's　deep；　even　breathing　caught　Wetzel's　ear；　and　he　found　himself

meditating；　as　he　had　often　of　late；　on　this　new　something　that　had　crept　into

his　life。　For　Joe　loved　him；　he　could　not　fail　to　see　that。　The　lad　had

preferred　to　roam　with　the　lonely　Indian…hunter　through　the　forests；　to

encounter　the　perils　and　hardships　of　a　wild　life；　rather　than　accept　the

smile　of　fortune　and　of　love。　Wetzel　knew　that　Colonel　Zane　had　taken　a　liking

to　the　boy；　and　had　offered　him　work　and　a　home；　and；　also；　the　hunter

remembered　the　warm　light　he　had　seen　in　Nell's　hazel　eyes。　Musing　thus；　the

man　felt　stir　in　his　heart　an　emotion　so　long　absent　that　it　was　unfamiliar。　

The　Avenger　forgot；　for　a　moment　his　brooding　plans。　He　felt　strangely

softened。　When　he　laid　his　head　on　the　rude　pillow　it　was　with　some　sense　of

gladness　that；　although　he　had　always　desired　a　lonely　life；　and　wanted　to

pass　it　in　the　fulfillment　of　his　vow；　his　loneliness　was　now　shared　by　a　lad

who　loved　him。



Joe　was　awakened　by　the　merry　chirp　of　a　chipmunk　that　every　morning　ran　along

the　seamy　side　of　the　opposite　wall　of　the　gorge。　Getting　up；　he　went　to　the

back　of　the　cave；　where　he　found　Wetzel　combing　out　his　long　hair。　The　lad

thrust　his　hands　into　the　cold　pool；　and　bathed　his　face。　　The　water　was　icy

cold；　and　sent　an　invigorating　thrill　through　him。　Then　he　laughed　as　he　took

a　rude　comb　Wetzel　handed　to　him。



〃My　scalp　is　nothing　to　m