the spirit of the border- 第44部分

in…〃



〃Spang！〃



The　whistling　of　a　bullet　over　the　heads　of　the　Christians　accompanied　the

loud　report　of　a　rifle。　All　presently　plainly　heard　the　leaden　missile　strike。

Edwards　wheeled；　clutching　his　side；　breathed　hard；　and　then　fell　heavily

without　uttering　a　cry。　He　had　been　shot　by　an　Indian　concealed　in　the

thicket。



For　a　moment　no　one　moved；　nor　spoke。　the　missionaries　were　stricken　with

horror；　the　converts　seemed　turned　to　stone；　and　the　hostile　throng　waited

silently；　as　they　had　for　hours。



〃He's　shot！　He's　shot！　Oh；　I　feared　this！〃　cried　Heckewelder；　running　forward。

The　missionaries　followed　him。　Edwards　was　lying　on　his　back；　with　a　bloody

hand　pressed　to　his　side。



〃Dave；　Dave；　how　is　it　with　you？〃　asked　Heckewelder；　in　a　voice　low　with　fear。



〃Not　bad。　It's　too　far　out　to　be　bad；　but　it　knocked　me　over；〃　answered

Edwards；　weakly。　〃Give　mewater。〃



They　carried　him　from　the　platform；　and　laid　him　on　the　grass　under　a　tree。



Young　pressed　Edwards'　hand；　he　murmured　something　that　sounded　like　a　prayer；

and　then　walked　straight　upon　the　platform；　as　he　raised　his　face；　which　was

sublime　with　a　white　light。



〃Paleface！　Back！〃　roared　Half　King；　as　he　waved　his　war…club。



〃You　Indian　dog！　Be　silent！〃



Young's　clear　voice　rolled　out　on　the　quiet　air　so　imperiously；　so　powerful　in

its　wonderful　scorn　and　passion；　that　the　hostile　savages　were　overcome　by

awe；　and　the　Christians　thrilled　anew　with　reverential　love。



Young　spoke　again　in　a　voice　which　had　lost　its　passion；　and　was　singularly

sweet　in　its　richness。



〃Beloved　Christians；　if　it　is　God's　will　that　we　must　die　to　prove　our　faith；

then　as　we　have　taught　you　how　to　live；　so　we　can　show　you　how　to　die…〃



〃Spang！〃



Again　a　whistling　sound　came　with　the　bellow　of　an　overcharged　rifle；　again

the　sickening　thud　of　a　bullet　striking　flesh。



Young　fell　backwards　from　the　platform。



The　missionaries　laid　him　beside　Edwards；　and　then　stood　in　shuddering

silence。　A　smile　shone　on　Young's　pale　face；　a　stream　of　dark　blood　welled

from　his　breast。　His　lips　moved；　he　whispered：



〃I　ask　no　moreGod's　will。〃



Jim　looked　down　once　at　his　brother　missionaries；　then　with　blanched　face；　but

resolute　and　stern；　he　marched　toward　the　platform。



Heckewelder　ran　after　him；　and　dragged　him　back。



〃No！　no！　no！　My　God！　Would　you　be　killed？　Oh！　I　tried　to　prevent　this！〃　cried

Heckewelder；　wringing　his　hands。



One　long；　fierce；　exultant　yell　pealed　throughout　the　grove。　It　came　from

those　silent　breasts　in　which　was　pent　up　hatred；　it　greeted　this　action　which

proclaimed　victory　over　the　missionaries。



All　eyes　turned　on　Half　King。　With　measured　stride　he　paced　to　and　fro　before

the　Christian　Indians。



Neither　cowering　nor　shrinking　marked　their　manner；　to　a　man；　to　a　child；　they

rose　with　proud　mien；　heads　erect　and　eyes　flashing。　This　mighty　chief　with

his　blood…thirsty　crew　could　burn　the　Village　of　Peace；　could　annihilate　the

Christians；　but　he　could　never　change　their　hope　and　trust　in　God。



〃Blinded　fools！〃　cried　Half　King。　〃The　Huron　is　wise；　he　tells　no　lies。　　Many

moons　ago　he　told　the　Christians　they　were　sitting　half　way　between　two　angry

gods；　who　stood　with　mouths　open　wide　and　looking　ferociously　at　each　other。

If　they　did　not　move　back　out　of　the　road　they　would　be　ground　to　powder　by

the　teeth　of　one　or　the　other；　or　both。　Half　King　urged　them　to　leave　the

peaceful　village；　to　forget　the　paleface　God；　to　take　their　horses；　and

flocks；　and　return　to　their　homes。　The　Christians　scorned　the　Huron　King's

counsel。　The　sun　has　set　for　the　Village　of　Peace。　The　time　has　come。　Pipe　and

the　Huron　are　powerful。　They　will　not　listen　to　the　paleface　God。　They　will

burn　the　Village　of　Peace。　　Death　to　the　Christians！〃



Half　King　threw　the　black　war…club　with　a　passionate　energy　on　the　grass

before　the　Indians。



They　heard　this　decree　of　death　with　unflinching　front。　Even　the　children　were

quiet。　Not　a　face　paled；　not　an　eye　was　lowered。



Half　King　cast　their　doom　in　their　teeth。　The　Christians　eyed　him　with

unspoken　scorn。



〃My　God！　My　God！　It　is　worse　than　I　thought！〃　moaned　Heckewelder。　〃Utter　ruin！

Murder！　Murder！〃



In　the　momentary　silence　which　followed　his　outburst；　a　tiny　cloud　of

blue…white　smoke　came　from　the　ferns　overhanging　a　cliff。



Crack！



All　heard　the　shot　of　a　rifle；　all　noticed　the　difference　between　its　clear；

ringing　intonation　and　the　loud　reports　of　the　other　two。　All　distinctly　heard

the　zip　of　a　bullet　as　it　whistled　over　their　heads。



All？　No；　not　all。　One　did　not　hear　that　speeding　bullet。　He　who　was　the

central　figure　in　this　tragic　scene；　he　who　had　doomed　the　Christians　might

have　seen　that　tiny　puff　of　smoke　which　heralded　his　own　doom；　but　before　the

ringing　report　could　reach　his　ears　a　small　blue　hole　appeared；　as　if　by

magic；　over　his　left　eye；　and　pulse；　and　sense；　and　life　had　fled　forever。



Half　King；　great；　cruel　chieftain；　stood　still　for　an　instant　as　if　he　had

been　an　image　of　stone；　his　haughty　head　lost　its　erect　poise；　the　fierceness

seemed　to　fade　from　his　dark　face；　his　proud　plume　waved　gracefully　as　he

swayed　to　and　fro；　and　then　fell　before　the　Christians；　inert　and　lifeless。



No　one　moved；　it　was　as　if　no　one　breathed。　The　superstitious　savages　awaited

fearfully　another　rifle　shot；　another　lightning　stroke；　another　visitation

from　the　paleface's　God。



But　Jim　Girty；　with　a　cunning　born　of　his　terrible　fear；　had　recognized　the

ring　of　that　rifle。　He　had　felt　the　zip　of　a　bullet　which　could　just　as

readily　have　found　his　brain　as　Half　King's。　He　had　stood　there　as　fair　a　mark

as　the　cruel　Huron；　yet　the　Avenger　had　not　chosen　him。　Was　he　reserved　for　a

different　fate？　Was　not　such　a　death　too　merciful　for　the　frontier　Deathshead？

He　yelled　in　his　craven　fear：



〃Le　vent　de　la　Mort！〃



The　well　known；　dreaded　appellation　aroused　the　savages　from　a　fearful　stupor

into　a　fierce　manifestation　of　hatred。　A　tremendous　yell　rent　the　air。

Instantly　the　scene　changed。







Chapter　XXVI。



In　the　confusion　the　missionaries　carried　Young　and　Edwards　into　Mr。　Wells'

cabin。　Nell's　calm；　white　face　showed　that　she　had　expected　some　such

catastrophe　as　this；　but　she　of　all　was　the　least　excited。　Heckewelder　left

them　at　the　cabin　and　hurried　away　to　consult　Captain　Williamson。　　While

Zeisberger；　who　was　skilled　in　surgery；　attended　to　the　wounded　men；　Jim

barred　the　heavy　door；　shut　the　rude；　swinging　windows；　and　made　the　cabin

temporarily　a　refuge　from　prowling　savages。



Outside　the　clamor　increased。　Shrill　yells　rent　the　air；　long；　rolling

war…cries　sounded　above　all　the　din。　The　measured　stamp　of　moccasined　feet；

the　rush　of　Indians　past　the　cabin；　the　dull　thud　of　hatchets　struck　hard　into

the　treesall　attested　to　the　excitement　of　the　savages；　and　the　imminence　of

terrible　danger。



In　the　front　room　of　Mr。　Wells'　cabin　Edwards　lay　on　a　bed；　his　face　turned　to

the　wall；　and　his　side　exposed。　There　was　a　bloody　hole　in　his　white　skin。

Zeisberger　was　probing　for　the　bullet。　He　had　no　instruments；　save　those　of

his　own　manufacture；　and　they　were　darning　needles　with　bent　points；　and　a

long　knife…blade　ground　thin。



〃There；　I　have　it；〃　said　Zeisberger。　〃Hold　still；　Dave。　There！〃　As　Edwards

moaned　Zeisberger　drew　forth　the　bloody　bullet。　〃Jim；　wash　and　dress　this

wound。　It　isn't　bad。　Dave　will　be　all　right　in　a　couple　of　days。　Now　I'll　look

at　George。〃



Zeisberger　hurried　into　the　other　room。　Young　lay　with　quiet　face　and　closed

eyes；　breathing　faintly。　Zeisberger　opened　the　wounded　man's　shirt　and　exposed

the　wound；　which　was　on　the　right　side；　rather　high　up。　Nell；　who　had　followed

Zeisberger　that　she　might　be　of　some　assistance　if　needed；　saw　him　look　at　the

wound　and　then　turn　a　pale　face　away　for　a　second。　　That　hurried；　shuddering

movement　of　the　sober；　practical　missionary　was　most　significant。　Then　he　bent

over　Young　and　inserted　on　of　the　probes　into　the　wound。　He　pushed　the　steel

an　inch；　two；　three；　four　inches　into　Young's　breast；　but　the　latter　neither

moved　nor　moaned。　Zeisberger　shook　his　head；　and　finally　removed　the

instrument。　He　raised　the　sufferer's　shoulder　to　find　the　bed　saturated　with

blood。　The　bullet　wound　extended　completely　through　the　missionary's　body；　and

was　bleeding　from　the　back。　　Zeisberger　folded　strips　of　linsey　cloth　into

small　pads　and　bound　them　tightly　over　both　apertures　of　the　wound。



〃How　is　he？〃　asked　Jim；　when　the　amateur　surgeon　returned　to　the　other　room；

and　proceeded　to　wash　the　blood　from　his　hands。



Zeisberger　shook　his　head　gloomily。



〃How　is　George？〃　whispered　Edwards；　who　had　heard　Jim's　question。



〃Shot　through　the　right　lung。　Human　skill　can　not　aid　him！　Only　God　can　save。〃



〃Didn't　I　hear　a　third　shot？〃　whispered　Dave；　gazing　round　with　sad；

questioning　eyes。　〃Heckewelder？〃



〃Is　safe。　He　has　gone　to　see　Williamson。　You　did　hear　a　third　shot。　Half　King

fell　dead　with　a　bullet　over　his　left　eye。　He　had　just　folded　his　arms　in　a

grand　pose　after　his　death　decree　to　the　Christians。〃



〃A　judgment　of　God！〃



〃It　does　seem　so；　but　it　came　in　the　form　of　leaden　death　from　Wetzel's

unerring　rifle。　Do　you　hear　all　that　yelling？　Half　King's　death　has　set　the

Indians　wild。〃



There　was　a　gentle　knock　at　the　door；　and　then　the　word；　〃Open；〃　in

Heckewelder's　voice。



Jim　unbarred　the　door。　Heckewelder　came　in　carrying　over　his　shoulder　what

apparently　was　a　sack　of　meal。　He　was　accompanied　by　young　Christy。　

Heckewelder　put　the　bag　down；　opened　it；　and　lifted　out　a　little　Indian　boy。

The　child　gazed　round　with　fearful　eyes。



〃Save　Benny！　Save　Benny！〃　he　cried；　running　to　Nell；　and　she　clasped　him

closely　in　her　arms。



Heckewelder's　face　was　like　marble　as　he　asked　concerning　Edwards'　condition。



〃I'm　not