the spirit of the border- 第9部分

thirst。



When　they　were　about　to　start　again　the　single　note　of　a　bird　far　away　in　the

woods　sounded　clearly　on　the　quiet　air。　Joe　would　not　have　given　heed　to　it

had　he　been　less　attentive。　He　instantly　associated　this　peculiar　bird…note

with　the　sudden　stiffening　of　Silvertip's　body　and　his　attitude　of　intense

listening。　Low　exclamations　came　from　the　braves　as　they　bent　to　catch　the

lightest　sound。　Presently；　above　the　murmur　of　the　gentle　fall　of　water　over

the　stones；　rose　that　musical　note　once　more。　It　was　made　by　a　bird；　Joe

thought；　and　yet；　judged　by　the　actions　of　the　Indians；　how　potent　with

meaning　beyond　that　of　the　simple　melody　of　the　woodland　songster！　He　turned；

half　expecting　to　see　somewhere　in　the　tree…tops　the　bird　which　had　wrought　so

sudden　a　change　in　his　captors。　As　he　did　so　from　close　at　hand　came　the　same

call；　now　louder；　but　identical　with　the　one　that　had　deceived　him。　It　was　an

answering　signal；　and　had　been　given　by　Silvertip。



It　flashed　into　Joe's　mind　that　other　savages　were　in　the　forest；　they　had　run

across　the　Shawnees'　trail；　and　were　thus　communicating　with　them。　　Soon　dark

figures　could　be　discerned　against　the　patches　of　green　thicket；　they　came

nearer　and　nearer；　and　now　entered　the　open　glade　where　Silvertip　stood　with

his　warriors。



Joe　counted　twelve；　and　noted　that　they　differed　from　his　captors。　He　had　only

time　to　see　that　this　difference　consisted　in　the　head…dress；　and　in　the　color

and　quantity　of　paint　on　their　bodies；　when　his　gaze　was　attracted　and　riveted

to　the　foremost　figures。



The　first　was　that　of　a　very　tall　and　stately　chief；　toward　whom　Silvertip　now

advanced　with　every　show　of　respect。　In　this　Indian's　commanding　stature；　in

his　reddish…bronze　face；　stern　and　powerful；　there　were　readable　the

characteristics　of　a　king。　In　his　deep…set　eyes；　gleaming　from　under　a

ponderous　brow；　in　his　mastiff…like　jaw；　in　every　feature　of　his　haughty　face

were　visible　all　the　high　intelligence；　the　consciousness　of　past　valor；　and

the　power　and　authority　that　denote　a　great　chieftain。



The　second　figure　was　equally　striking　for　the　remarkable　contrast　it　afforded

to　the　chief's。　Despite　the　gaudy　garments；　the　paint；　the　fringed　and　beaded

buckskin　legginsall　the　Indian　accouterments　and　garments　which　bedecked

this　person；　he　would　have　been　known　anywhere　as　a　white　man。　His　skin　was

burned　to　a　dark　bronze；　but　it　had　not　the　red　tinge　which　characterizes　the

Indian。　This　white　man　had；　indeed；　a　strange　physiognomy。　The　forehead　was

narrow　and　sloped　backward　from　the　brow；　denoting　animal　instincts。　The　eyes

were　close　together；　yellowish…brown　in　color；　and　had　a　peculiar　vibrating

movement；　as　though　they　were　hung　on　a　pivot；　like　a　compass…needle。　The　nose

was　long　and　hooked；　and　the　mouth　set　in　a　thin；　cruel　line。　There　was　in　the

man's　aspect　an　extraordinary　combination　of　ignorance；　vanity；　cunning　and

ferocity。



While　the　two　chiefs　held　a　short　consultation；　this　savage…appearing　white

man　addressed　the　brothers。



〃Who're　you；　an'　where　you　goin'？〃　he　asked　gruffly；　confronting　Jim。



〃My　name　is　Downs。　I　am　a　preacher；　and　was　on　my　way　to　the　Moravian　Mission

to　preach　to　the　Indians。　You　are　a　white　man；　will　you　help　us？〃



If　Jim　expected　the　information　would　please　his　interrogator；　he　was

mistaken。



〃So　you're　one　of　'em？　Yes；　I'll　do　suthin'　fer　you　when　I　git　back　from　this

hunt。　I'll　cut　your　heart　out；　chop　it　up；　an'　feed　it　to　the　buzzards；〃　he

said　fiercely；　concluding　his　threat　by　striking　Jim　a　cruel　blow　on　the　head。



Joe　paled　deathly　white　at　this　cowardly　action；　and　his　eyes；　as　they　met　the

gaze　of　the　ruffian；　contracted　with　their　characteristic　steely　glow；　as　if

some　powerful　force　within　the　depths　of　his　being　were　at　white　heat　and　only

this　pale　flash　came　to　the　surface。



〃You　ain't　a　preacher？〃　questioned　the　man；　meeting　something　in　Joe's　glance

that　had　been　absent　from　Jim's。



Joe　made　no　answer；　and　regarded　questioner　steadily。



〃Ever　see　me　afore？　Ever　hear　of　Jim　Girty？〃　he　asked　boastfully。



〃Before　you　spoke　I　knew　you　were　Girty；〃　answered　Joe　quietly。



〃How　d'you　know？　Ain't　you　afeared？〃



〃Of　what？〃



〃Meme？〃



Joe　laughed　in　the　renegades　face。



〃How'd　you　knew　me？〃　growled　Girty。　〃I'll　see　thet　you　hev　cause　to　remember

me　after　this。〃



〃I　figured　there　was　only　one　so…called　white　man　in　these　woods　who　is　coward

enough　to　strike　a　man　whose　hands　are　tied。〃



〃Boy；　ye're　too　free　with　your　tongue。　I'll　shet　off　your　wind。〃　Girty's　hand

was　raised；　but　it　never　reached　Joe's　neck。



The　big　Indian　had　an　hour　or　more　previous　cut　Joe's　bonds；　but　he　still

retained　the　thong　which　was　left　attached　to　Joe's　left　wrist。　This　allowed

the　young　man　free　use　of　his　right　arm；　which；　badly　swollen　or　not；　he

brought　into　quick　action。



When　the　renegade　reached　toward　him　Joe　knocked　up　the　hand；　and；　instead　of

striking；　he　grasped　the　hooked　nose　with　all　the　powerful　grip　of　his

fingers。　Girty　uttered　a　frightful　curse；　he　writhed　with　pain；　but　could　not

free　himself　from　the　vise…like　clutch。　He　drew　his　tomahawk　and　with　a　scream

aimed　a　vicious　blow　at　Joe。　He　missed　his　aim；　however；　for　Silvertip　had

intervened　and　turned　the　course　of　the　keen　hatchet。　But　the　weapon　struck

Joe　a　glancing　blow；　inflicting　a　painful；　though　not　dangerous　wound。



The　renegade's　nose　was　skinned　and　bleeding　profusely。　He　was　frantic　with

fury；　and　tried　to　get　at　Joe；　but　Silvertip　remained　in　front　of　his　captive

until　some　of　the　braves　led　Girty　into　the　forest；　where　the　tall　chief　had

already　disappeared。



The　nose…pulling　incident　added　to　the　gayety　of　the　Shawnees；　who　evidently

were　pleased　with　Girty's　discomfiture。　They　jabbered　among　themselves　and

nodded　approvingly　at　Joe；　until　a　few　words　spoken　by　Silvertip　produced　a

sudden　change。



What　the　words　were　Joe　could　not　understand；　but　to　him　they　sounded　like

French。　He　smiled　at　the　absurdity　of　imagining　he　had　heard　a　savage　speak　a

foreign　language。　At　any　rate；　whatever　had　been　said　was　trenchant　with

meaning。　The　Indians　changed　from　gay　to　grave；　they　picked　up　their　weapons

and　looked　keenly　on　every　side；　the　big　Indian　at　once　retied　Joe；　and　then

all　crowded　round　the　chief。



〃Did　you　hear　what　Silvertip　said；　and　did　you　notice　the　effect　it　had？〃

whispered　Jim；　taking　advantage；　of　the　moment。



〃It　sounded　like　French；　but　of　course　it　wasn't；〃　replied　Joe。



〃It　was　French。　'Le　Vent　de　la　Mort。'〃



〃By　Jove；　that's　it。　What　does　it　mean？〃　asked　Joe；　who　was　not　a　scholar。



〃The　Wind　of　Death。〃



〃That's　English；　but　I　can't　apply　it　here。　Can　you？〃



〃No　doubt　it　is　some　Indian　omen。〃



The　hurried　consultation　over；　Silvertip　tied　Joe's　horse　and　dog　to　the

trees；　and　once　more　led　the　way；　this　time　he　avoided　the　open　forest　and

kept　on　low　ground。　For　a　long　time　he　traveled　in　the　bed　of　the　brook；

wading　when　the　water　was　shallow；　and　always　stepping　where　there　was　the

least　possibility　of　leaving　a　footprint。　Not　a　word　was　spoken。　If　either　of

the　brothers　made　the　lightest　splash　in　the　water；　or　tumbled　a　stone　into

the　brook；　the　Indian　behind　rapped　him　on　the　head　with　a　tomahawk　handle。



At　certain　places；　indicated　by　the　care　which　Silvertip　exercised　in　walking；

the　Indian　in　front　of　the　captives　turned　and　pointed　where　they　were　to

step。　They　were　hiding　the　trail。　Silvertip　hurried　them　over　the　stony

places；　went　more　slowly　through　the　water；　and　picked　his　way　carefully　over

the　soft　ground　it　became　necessary　to　cross。　At　times　he　stopped；　remaining

motionless　many　seconds。



This　vigilance　continued　all　the　afternoon。　The　sun　sank；　twilight　spread　its

gray　mantle；　and　soon　black　night　enveloped　the　forest。　The　Indians　halted；

but　made　no　fire；　they　sat　close　together　on　a　stony　ridge；　silent　and

watchful。



Joe　pondered　deeply　over　this　behavior。　Did　the　Shawnees　fear　pursuit？　　What

had　that　Indian　chief　told　Silvertip？　To　Joe　it　seemed　that　they　acted　as　if

believing　foes　were　on　all　sides。　Though　they　hid　their　tracks；　it　was；

apparently；　not　the　fear　of　pursuit　alone　which　made　them　cautious。



Joe　reviewed　the　afternoon's　march　and　dwelt　upon　the　possible　meaning　of　the

cat…like　steps；　the　careful　brushing　aside　of　branches；　the　roving　eyes；

suspicious　and　gloomy；　the　eager　watchfulness　of　the　advance　as　well　as　to　the

ear；　and　always　the　strained　effort　to　listen；　all　of　which　gave　him　the

impression　of　some　grave；　unseen　danger。



And　now　as　he　lay　on　the　hard　ground；　nearly　exhausted　by　the　long　march　and

suffering　from　the　throbbing　wound；　his　courage　lessened　somewhat；　and　he

shivered　with　dread。　The　quiet　and　gloom　of　the　forest；　these　fierce；　wild

creatures；　free　in　the　heart　of　their　own　wilderness　yet　menaced　by　a　foe；　and

that　strange　French　phrase　which　kept　recurring　in　his　mindall　had　the

effect　of　conjuring　up　giant　shadows　in　Joe's　fanciful　mind。　During　all　his

life；　until　this　moment；　he　had　never　feared　anything；　now　he　was　afraid　of

the　darkness。　The　spectral　trees　spread　long　arms　overhead；　and　phantom　forms

stalked　abroad；　somewhere　out　in　that　dense　gloom　stirred　this　mysterious

foethe　〃Wind　of　Death。〃



Nevertheless；　he　finally　slept。　In　the　dull…gray　light　of　early　morning　the

Indians　once　more　took　up　the　line　of　march　toward　the　west。　They　marched　all

that　day；　and　at　dark　halted　to　eat　and　rest。　Silvertip　and　another　Indian

stood　watch。



Some　time　before　morning　Joe　suddenly　awoke。　The　night　was　dark；　yet　it　was

lighter　than　when　he　had　fallen　asleep。　A　pale；　crescent　moon　shown　dimly

through　the　murky　clouds。　There　was　neither　movement　of　the　air　nor　the　chirp

of　an　insect。　Absolute　silence　prevailed。



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