the spirit of the border- 第40部分

〃Christian　Indians　shall　never　sit　round　Half　King's　fire；〃　cried　the　Huron。



Simon　Girty　knew　the　crisis　had　come；　that　but　few　moments　were　left　him　to

decide　as　to　the　disposition　of　the　Christians；　and　he　thought　seriously。

Certainly　he　did　not　want　the　Christians　murdered。　However　cruel　his　life；　and

great　his　misdeeds；　he　was　still　a　man。　If　possible；　he　desired　to　burn　the

village　and　ruin　the　religious　influence；　but　without　shedding　blood。　Yet；

with　all　his　power；　he　was　handicapped；　and　that　by　the　very　chiefs　most

nearly　under　his　control。　He　could　not　subdue　this　growing　Christian　influence

without　the　help　of　Pipe　and　Half　King。　To　these　savages　a　thing　was　either

right　or　wrong。　　He　had　sown　the　seed　of　unrest　and　jealousy　in　the　savage

breasts；　and　the　fruit　was　the　decree　of　death。　As　far　as　these　Indians　were

concerned；　this　decision　was　unalterable。



On　the　other　hand；　if　he　did　not　spread　ruin　over　the　Village　of　Peace；　the

missionaries　would　soon　get　such　a　grasp　on　the　tribes　that　their　hold　would

never　be　broken。　He　could　not　allow　that；　even　if　he　was　forced　to　sacrifice

the　missionaries　along　with　their　converts；　for　he　saw　in　the　growth　of　this

religion　his　own　downfall。　The　border　must　be　hostile　to　the　whites；　or　it

could　no　longer　be　his　home。　To　be　sure；　he　had　aided　the　British　in　the

Revolution；　and　could　find　a　refuge　among　them；　but　this　did　not　suit　him。



He　became　an　outcast　because　of　failure　to　win　the　military　promotion　which　he

had　so　much　coveted。　He　had　failed　among　his　own　people。　　He　had　won　a　great

position　in　an　alien　race；　and　he　loved　his　power。　To　sway　menIndians；　if

not　othersto　his　will；　to　avenge　himself　for　the　fancied　wrong　done　him；　to

be　great；　had　been　his　unrelenting　purpose。



He　knew　he　must　sacrifice　the　Christians；　or　eventually　lose　his　own　power。　He

had　no　false　ideas　about　the　converted　Indians。　He　knew　they　were　innocent；

that　they　were　a　thousand　times　better　off　than　the　pagan　Indians；　that　they

had　never　harmed　him；　nor　would　they　ever　do　so；　but　if　he　allowed　them　to

spread　their　religion　there　was　an　end　of　Simon　Girty。



His　decision　was　characteristic　of　the　man。　He　would　sacrifice　any　one；　or

all；　to　retain　his　supremacy。　He　knew　the　fulfillment　of　the　decree　as　laid

down　by　Pipe　and　Half　King　would　be　known　as　his　work。　His　name；　infamous　now；

would　have　an　additional　horror；　and　ever　be　remembered　by　posterity　in

unspeakable　loathing；　in　unsoftening　wrath。　He　knew　this；　and　deep　down　in　his

heart　awoke　a　numbed　chord　of　humanity　that　twinged　with　strange　pain。　What

awful　work　he　must　sanction　to　keep　his　vaunted　power！　　More　bitter　than　all

was　the　knowledge　that　to　retain　this　hold　over　the　indians　he　must　commit　a

deed　which；　so　far　as　the　whites　were　concerned；　would　take　away　his　great

name；　and　brand　him　a　coward。



He　briefly　reviewed　his　stirring　life。　Singularly　fitted　for　a　leader；　in　a

few　years　he　had　risen　to　the　most　powerful　position　on　the　border。　　He

wielded　more　influence　than　any　chief。　He　had　been　opposed　to　the　invasion　of

the　pioneers；　and　this　alone；　without　his　sagacity　or　his　generalship；　would

have　given　him　control　of　many　tribes。　But　hatred　for　his　own　people；　coupled

with　unerring　judgment；　a　remarkable　ability　to　lead　expeditions；　and　his

invariable　success；　had　raised　him　higher　and　higher　until　he　stood　alone。　He

was　the　most　powerful　man　west　of　the　Alleghenies。　His　fame　was　such　that　the

British　had　importuned　him　to　help　them；　and　had　actually；　in　more　than　one

instance；　given　him　command　over　British　subjects。



All　of　which　meant　that　he　had　a　great；　even　tough　an　infamous　name。　No　matter

what　he　was　blamed　for；　no　matter　how　many　dastardly　deeds　had　been　committed

by　his　depraved　brothers　and　laid　to　his　door；　he　knew　he　had　never　done　a

cowardly　act。　That　which　he　had　committed　while　he　was　drunk　he　considered　as

having　been　done　by　the　liquor；　and　not　by　the　man。　He　loved　his　power；　and　he

loved　his　name。



In　all　Girty's　eventful；　ignoble　life；　neither　the　alienation　from　his　people；

the　horror　they　ascribed　to　his　power；　nor　the　sacrifice　of　his　life　to　stand

high　among　the　savage　races；　nor　any　of　the　cruel　deeds　committed　while　at

war；　hurt　him　a　tithe　as　much　as　did　this　sanctioning　the　massacre　of　the

Christians。



Although　he　was　a　vengeful；　unscrupulous；　evil　man；　he　had　never　acted　the

coward。



Half　King　waited　long　for　Girty　to　speak；　since　he　remained　silent；　the　wily

Huron　suggested　they　take　a　vote　on　the　question。



〃Let　us　burn　the　Village　of　Peace；　drive　away　the　missionaries；　and　take　the

Christians　back　to　the　Delaware　townsall　without　spilling　blood；〃　said

Girty；　determined　to　carry　his　point；　if　possible。



〃I　say　the　same；〃　added　Elliott；　refusing　the　war…club　held　out　to　him　by　Half

King。



〃Me；　too；〃　voted　McKee；　not　so　drunk　but　that　he　understood　the　lightninglike

glance　Girty　shot　at　him。



〃Kill　'em　all；　kill　everybody；〃　cried　Deering　in　drunken　glee。　He　took　the

club　and　pounded　with　it　on　the　ground。



Pipe　repeated　his　former　performance；　as　also　did　Half　King；　after　which　he

handed　the　black；　knotted　symbol　of　death　to　Jim　Girty。



Three　had　declared　for　saving　the　Christians；　and　three　for　the　death　penalty。



Six　pairs　of　burning　eyes　were　fastened　on　the　Deaths…head。



Pipe　and　Half　King　were　coldly　relentless；　Deering　awoke　to　a　brutal

earnestness；　McKee　and　Elliott　watched　with　bated　breath。　These　men　had　formed

themselves　into　a　tribunal　to　decide　on　the　life　or　death　of　many；　and　the

situation；　if　not　the　greatest　in　their　lives；　certainly　was　one　of　vital

importance。



Simon　Girty　cursed　all　the　fates。　He　dared　not　openly　oppose　the　voting；　and

he　could　not；　before　those　cruel　but　just　chiefs；　try　to　influence　his

brother's　vote。



As　Jim　Girty　took　the　war…club；　Simon　read　in　his　brother's　face　the　doom　of

the　converted　Indians　and　he　muttered　to　himself：



〃Now　tremble　an'　shrink；　all　you　Christians！〃



Jim　was　not　in　a　hurry。　Slowly　he　poised　the　war…club。　He　was　playing　as　a　cat

plays　with　a　mouse；　he　was　glorying　in　his　power。　The　silence　was　that　of

death。　It　signified　the　silence　of　death。　The　war…club　descended　with

violence。



〃Feed　the　Christians　to　ther　buzzards！〃







Chapter　XXIII。



〃I　have　been　here　before；〃　said　Joe　to　Whispering　Winds。　〃I　remember　that

vine…covered　stone。　We　crawled　over　it　to　get　at　Girty　and　Silvertip。　　There's

the　little　knoll；　here's　the　very　spot　where　I　was　hit　by　a　flying　tomahawk。

Yes；　and　there's　the　spring。　Let　me　see；　what　did　Wetzel　call　this　spot？〃



〃Beautiful　Spring；〃　answered　the　Indian　girl。



〃That's　it；　and　it's　well　named。　What　a　lovely　place！〃



Nature　had　been　lavish　in　the　beautifying　of　this　inclosed　dell。　It　was　about

fifty　yards　wide；　and　nestled　among　little；　wooded　knolls　and　walls　of　gray；

lichen…covered　stone。　Though　the　sun　shone　brightly　into　the　opening；　and　the

rain　had　free　access　to　the　mossy　ground；　no　stormy　winds　ever　entered　this

well　protected　glade。



Joe　reveled　in　the　beauty　of　the　scene；　even　while　he　was　too　weak　to　stand

erect。　He　suffered　no　pain　from　his　wound；　although　he　had　gradually　grown

dizzy；　and　felt　as　if　the　ground　was　rising　before　him。　He　was　glad　to　lie

upon　the　mossy　ground　in　the　little　cavern　under　the　cliff。



Upon　examination　his　wound　was　found　to　have　opened；　and　was　bleeding。　　His

hunting　coat　was　saturated　with　blood。　Whispering　Winds　washed　the　cut；　and

dressed　it　with　cooling　leaves。　Then　she　rebandaged　it　tightly　with　Joe's

linsey　handkerchiefs；　and　while　he　rested　comfortable　she　gathered　bundles　of

ferns；　carrying　them　to　the　little　cavern。　When　she　had　a　large　quantity　of

these　she　sat　down　near　Joe；　and　began　to　weave　the　long　stems　into　a　kind　of

screen。　The　fern　stalks　were　four　feet　long　and　half　a　foot　wide；　these　she

deftly　laced　together；　making　broad　screens　which　would　serve　to　ward　off　the

night　dews。　This　done；　she　next　built　a　fireplace　with　flat　stones。　She　found

wild　apples；　plums　and　turnips　on　the　knoll　above　the　glade。　Then　she　cooked

strips　of　meat　which　had　been　brought　with　them。　Lance　grazed　on　the　long

grass　just　without　the　glade；　and　Mose　caught　two　rabbits。　When　darkness

settled　down　Whispering　Winds　called　the　dog　within　the　cavern；　and　hung　the

screens　before　the　opening。



Several　days　passed。　Joe　rested　quietly；　and　began　to　recover　strength。　

Besides　the　work　of　preparing　their　meals；　Whispering　Winds　had　nothing　to　do

save　sit　near　the　invalid　and　amuse　or　interest　him　so　that　he　would　not　fret

or　grow　impatient；　while　his　wound　was　healing。



They　talked　about　their　future　prospects。　After　visiting　the　Village　of　Peace；

they　would　go　to　Fort　Henry；　where　Joe　could　find　employment。　They　dwelt　upon

the　cabin　they　would　build；　and　passed　many　happy　moments　planning　a　new　home。

Joe's　love　of　the　wilderness　had　in　no　wise　diminished；　but　a　blow　on　his　head

from　a　heavy　tomahawk；　and　a　vicious　stab　in　the　back；　had　lessened　his　zeal

so　far　that　he　understood　it　was　not　wise　to　sacrifice　life　for　the　pleasures

of　the　pathless　woods。　He　could　have　the　last　without　the　danger　of　being　shot

at　from　behind　every　tree。　He　reasoned　that　it　would　be　best　for　him　to　take

his　wife　to　Fort　Henry；　there　find　employment；　and　devote　his　leisure　time　to

roaming　in　the　forest。



〃Will　the　palefaces　be　kind　to　an　Indian　who　has　learned　to　love　them？〃

Whispering　Winds　asked　wistfully　of　Joe。



〃Indeed　they　will；〃　answered　Joe；　and　he　told　her　the　story　of　Isaac　Zane；　how

he　took　his　Indian　bride　home；　how　her　beauty　and　sweetness　soon　won　all　the

white　people's　love。　〃It　will　be　so　with　you；　my　wife。〃



〃Whispering　Winds　knows　so　little；〃　she　murmured。



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

enough　for　me。〃



〃Whispering　W