the spirit of the border- 第26部分

skulkin'　round。　I　think　I'd　better　take　you　back　to　the　village。〃



〃It's　all　on　my　account　you　say　that；〃　said　Joe。



〃Sure；〃　Wetzel　replied。



〃If　you　were　alone　what　would　you　do？〃



〃I　calkilate　I'd　hunt　fer　some　red…skinned　game。〃



The　supreme　moment　had　come。　Joe's　heart　beat　hard。　He　could　not　miss　this

opportunity；　he　must　stay　with　the　hunter。　He　looked　closely　at　Wetzel。



〃I　won't　go　back　to　the　village；〃　he　said。



The　hunter　stood　in　his　favorite　position；　leaning　on　his　long　rifle；　and　made

no　response。



〃I　won't　go；〃　continued　Joe；　earnestly。　〃Let　me　stay　with　you。　If　at　any　time

I　hamper　you；　or　can　not　keep　the　pace；　then　leave　me　to　shift　for　myself；　but

don't　make　me　go　until　I　weaken。　Let　me　stay。〃



Fire　and　fearlessness　spoke　in　Joe's　every　word；　and　his　gray　eyes　contracted

with　their　peculiar　steely　flash。　Plain　it　was　that；　while　he　might　fail　to

keep　pace　with　Wetzel；　he　did　not　fear　this　dangerous　country；　and；　if　it　must

be；　would　face　it　alone。



Wetzel　extended　his　broad　hand　and　gave　his　comrade's　a　viselike　squeeze。　　To

allow　the　lad　to　remain　with　him　was　more　than　he　would　have　done　for　any

other　person　in　the　world。　Far　better　to　keep　the　lad　under　his　protection

while　it　was　possible；　for　Joe　was　taking　that　war…trail　which　had　for　every

hunter；　somewhere　along　its　bloody　course；　a　bullet；　a　knife；　or　a　tomahawk。

Wetzel　knew　that　Joe　was　conscious　of　this　inevitable　conclusion；　for　it

showed　in　his　white　face；　and　in　the　resolve　in　his　big；　gray　eyes。



So　there；　in　the　shade　of　a　towering　oak；　the　Indian…killer　admitted　the　boy

into　his　friendship；　and　into　a　life　which　would　no　longer　be　play；　but

eventful；　stirring；　hazardous。



〃Wal；　lad；　stay；〃　he　said；　with　that　rare　smile　which　brightened　his　dark　face

like　a　ray　of　stray　sunshine。　〃We'll　hang　round　these　diggins　a　few　days。

First　off；　we'll　take　in　the　lay　of　the　land。　You　go　down　stream　a　ways　an'

scout　round　some；　while　I　go　up；　an'　then　circle　down。　Move　slow；　now；　an'

don't　miss　nothin'。〃



Joe　followed　the　stream　a　mile　or　more。　He　kept　close　in　the　shade　of　willows；

and　never　walked　across　an　open　glade　without　first　waiting　and　watching。　He

listened　to　all　sounds；　but　none　were　unfamiliar。　He　closely　examined　the　sand

along　the　stream；　and　the　moss　and　leaves　under　the　trees。　When　he　had　been

separated　from　Wetzel　several　hours；　and　concluded　he　would　slowly　return　to

camp；　he　ran　across　a　well…beaten　path　winding　through　the　forest。　This　was；

perhaps；　one　of　the　bridle…trails　Wetzel　had　referred　to。　He　bent　over　the

worn　grass　with　keen　scrutiny。



CRACK！



The　loud　report　of　a　heavily　charged　rifle　rang　out。　Joe　felt　the　zip　of　a

bullet　as　it　fanned　his　cheek。　With　an　agile　leap　he　gained　the　shelter　of　a

tree；　from　behind　which　he　peeped　to　see　who　had　shot　at　him。　He　was　just　in

time　to　detect　the　dark　form　of　an　Indian　dart　behind　the　foliage　an　hundred

yards　down　the　path。　Joe　expected　to　see　other　Indians；　and　to　hear　more

shots；　but　he　was　mistaken。　Evidently　the　savage　was　alone；　for　the　tree　Joe

had　taken　refuge　behind　was　scarcely　large　enough　to　screen　his　body；　which

disadvantage　the　other　Indians　would　have　been　quick　to　note。



Joe　closely　watched　the　place　where　his　assailant　had　disappeared；　and

presently　saw　a　dark　hand；　then　a　naked　elbow；　and　finally　the　ramrod　of　a

rifle。　The　savage　was　reloading。　Soon　a　rifle…barrel　protruded　from　behind　the

tree。　With　his　heart　beating　like　a　trip…hammer；　and　the　skin　tightening　on

his　face；　Joe　screened　his　body　as　best　he　might。　The　tree　was　small；　but　it

served　as　a　partial　protection。　Rapidly　he　revolved　in　his　mind　plans　to

outwit　the　enemy。　The　Indian　was　behind　a　large　oak　with　a　low　limb　over　which

he　could　fire　without　exposing　his　own　person　to　danger。



〃Bang！〃　The　Indian's　rifle　bellowed；　the　bullet　crumbled　the　bark　close　to

Joe's　face。　The　lad　yelled；　loudly；　staggered　to　his　knees；　and　then　fell　into

the　path；　where　he　lay　quiet。



The　redskin　gave　an　exultant　shout。　Seeing　that　the　fallen　figure　remained

quite　motionless　he　stepped　forward；　drawing　his　knife　as　he　came。　He　was　a

young　brave；　quick　and　eager　in　his　movements；　and　came　nimbly　up　the　path　to

gain　his　coveted　trophy；　the　paleface's　scalp。



Suddenly　Joe　sat　up；　raised　his　rifle　quickly　as　thought；　and　fired

point…blank　at　the　Indian。



But　he　missed。



The　redskin　stopped　aghast　when　he　saw　the　lad　thus　seemingly　come　back　to

life。　Then；　realizing　that　Joe's　aim　had　been　futile；　he　bounded　forward；

brandishing　his　knife；　and　uttering　infuriated　yells。



Joe　rose　to　his　feet　with　rifle　swung　high　above　his　head。



When　the　savage　was　within　twenty　feet；　so　near　that　big　dark；　face；　swollen

with　fierce　passion；　could　be　plainly　discerned；　a　peculiar　whistling　noise

sounded　over　Joe's　shoulder。　It　was　accompanied；　rather　than　followed；　by　a

clear；　ringing　rifleshot。



The　Indian　stopped　as　if　he　had　encountered　a　heavy　shock　from　a　tree　or　stone

barring　his　way。　Clutching　at　his　breast；　he　uttered　a　weird　cry；　and　sank

slowly　on　the　grass。



Joe　ran　forward　to　bend　over　the　prostrate　figure。　The　Indian；　a　slender；

handsome　young　brave；　had　been　shot　through　the　breast。　He　held　his　hand

tightly　over　the　wound；　while　bright　red　blood　trickled　between　his　fingers；

flowed　down　his　side；　and　stained　the　grass。



The　brave　looked　steadily　up　at　Joe。　Shot　as　he　was；　dying　as　he　knew　himself

to　be；　there　was　no　yielding　in　the　dark　eyeonly　an　unquenchable　hatred。

Then　the　eyes　glazed；　the　fingers　ceased　twitching。



Joe　was　bending　over　a　dead　Indian。



It　flashed　into　his　mind；　of　course；　that　Wetzel　had　come　up　in　time　to　save

his　life；　but　he　did　not　dwell　on　the　thought；　he　shrank　from　this　violent

death　of　a　human　being。　But　it　was　from　the　aspect　of　the　dead；　not　from

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　wit