The Zane Grey Megapack

by Zane Grey

  “He said not many. The redskins killed all the prisoners exceptin’ Crawford and Knight.”

  “I saw Col. Crawford burned at the stake. I did not see Dr. Knight. Maybe they murdered him before I reached the camp of the Delawares,” said Jonathan.

  “Wetzel, in your judgment, what effect will this massacre and Crawford’s death have on the border?” inquired Col. Zane.

  “It means another bloody year like 1777,” answered Wetzel.

  “We are liable to have trouble with the Indians any day. You mean that.”

  “There’ll be war all along the river. Hamilton is hatchin’ some new devil’s trick with Girty. Col. Zane, I calkilate that Girty has a spy in the river settlements and knows as much about the forts and defense as you do.”

  “You can’t mean a white spy.”

  “Yes, just that.”

  “That is a strong assertion, Lewis, but coming from you it means something. Step aside here and explain yourself,” said Col. Zane, getting up and walking out to the fence.

  “I don’t like the looks of things,” said the hunter. “A month ago I ketched this man Miller pokin’ his nose round the block-house where he hadn’t ought to be. And I kep’ watchin’ him. If my suspicions is correct he’s playin’ some deep game. I ain’t got any proof, but things looks bad.”

  “That’s strange, Lewis,” said Col. Zane soberly. “Now that you mention it I remember Jonathan said he met Miller near the Kanawha three weeks ago. That was when Crawford’s expedition was on the way to the Shawnee villages. The Colonel tried to enlist Miller, but Miller said he was in a hurry to get back to the Fort. And he hasn’t come back yet.”

  “I ain’t surprised. Now, Col. Zane, you are in command here. I’m not a soldier and for that reason I’m all the better to watch Miller. He won’t suspect me. You give me authority and I’ll round up his little game.”

  “By all means, Lewis. Go about it your own way, and report anything to me. Remember you may be mistaken and give Miller the benefit of the doubt. I don’t like the fellow. He has a way of appearing and disappearing, and for no apparent reason, that makes me distrust him. But for Heaven’s sake, Lew, how would he profit by betraying us?”

  “I don’t know. All I know is he’ll bear watchin’.”

  “My gracious, Lew Wetzel!” exclaimed Betty as her brother and the hunter rejoined the others. “Have you come all the way over here without a gun? And you have on a new suit of buckskin.”

  Lewis stood a moment by Betty, gazing down at her with his slight smile. He looked exceedingly well. His face was not yet bronzed by summer suns. His long black hair, of which he was as proud as a woman could have been, and of which he took as much care as he did of his rifle, waved over his shoulders.

  “Betty, this is my birthday, but that ain’t the reason I’ve got my fine feathers on. I’m goin’ to try and make an impression on you,” replied Lewis, smiling.

  “I declare, this is very sudden. But you have succeeded. Who made the suit? And where did you get all that pretty fringe and those beautiful beads?”

  “That stuff I picked up round an Injun camp. The suit I made myself.”

  “I think, Lewis, I must get you to help me make my new gown,” said Betty, roguishly.

  “Well, I must be getting’ back,” said Wetzel, rising.

  “Oh, don’t go yet. You have not talked to me at all,” said Betty petulantly. She walked to the gate with him.

  “What can an Injun hunter say to amuse the belle of the border?”

  “I don’t want to be amused exactly. I mean I’m not used to being unnoticed, especially by you.” And then in a lower tone she continued: “What did you mean about Mr. Miller? I heard his name and Eb looked worried. What did you tell him?”

  “Never mind now, Betty. Maybe I’ll tell you some day. It’s enough for you to know the Colonel don’t like Miller and that I think he is a bad man. You don’t care nothin’ for Miller, do you Betty?”

  “Not in the least.”

  “Don’t see him any more, Betty. Good-night, now, I must be goin’ to supper.”

  “Lew, stop! or I shall run after you.”

  “And what good would your runnin’ do?” said Lewis “You’d never ketch me. Why, I could give you twenty paces start and beat you to yon tree.”

  “You can’t. Come, try it,” retorted Betty, catching hold of her skirt. She could never have allowed a challenge like that to pass.

  “Ha! ha! We are in for a race, Betty. If you beat him, start or no start, you will have accomplished something never done before,” said Col. Zane.

  “Come, Silas, step off twenty paces and make them long ones,” said Betty, who was in earnest.

  “We’ll make it forty paces,” said Silas, as he commenced taking immense strides.

  “What is Lewis looking at?” remarked Col. Zane’s wife.

  Wetzel, in taking his position for the race, had faced the river. Mrs. Zane had seen him start suddenly, straighten up and for a moment stand like a statue. Her exclamation drew he attention of the others to the hunter.

  “Look!” he cried, waving his hand toward the river.

  “I declare, Wetzel, you are always seeing something. Where shall I look? Ah, yes, there is a dark form moving along the bank. By jove! I believe it’s an Indian,” said Col. Zane.

  Jonathan darted into the house. When he reappeared second later he had three rifles.

  “I see horses, Lew. What do you make out?” said Jonathan. “It’s a bold manoeuvre for Indians unless they have a strong force.”

  “Hostile Injuns wouldn’t show themselves like that. Maybe they ain’t redskins at all. We’ll go down to the bluff.”

  “Oh, yes, let us go,” cried Betty, walking down the path toward Wetzel.

  Col. Zane followed her, and presently the whole party were on their way to the river. When they reached the bluff they saw two horses come down the opposite bank and enter the water. Then they seemed to fade from view. The tall trees cast a dark shadow over the water and the horses had become lost in this obscurity. Col. Zane and Jonathan walked up and down the bank seeking to find a place which afforded a clearer view of the river.

  “There they come,” shouted Silas.

  “Yes, I see them just swimming out of the shadow,” said Col. Zane. “Both horses have riders. Lewis, what can you make out?”

  “It’s Isaac and an Indian girl,” answered Wetzel.

  This startling announcement created a commotion in the little group. It was followed by a chorus of exclamations.

  “Heavens! Wetzel, you have wonderful eyes. I hope to God you are right. There, I see the foremost rider waving his hand,” cried Col. Zane.

  “Oh, Bessie, Bessie! I believe Lew is right. Look at Tige,” said Betty excitedly.

  Everybody had forgotten the dog. He had come down the path with Betty and had pressed close to her. First he trembled, then whined, then with a loud bark he ran down the bank and dashed into the water.

  “Hel-lo, Betts,” came the cry across the water. There was no mistaking that clear voice. It was Isaac’s.

  Although the sun had long gone down behind the hills daylight lingered. It was bright enough for the watchers to recognize Isaac Zane. He sat high on his horse and in his hand he held the bridle of a pony that was swimming beside him. The pony bore the slender figure of a girl. She was bending forward and her hands were twisted in the pony’s mane.

  By this time the Colonel and Jonathan were standing in the shallow water waiting to grasp the reins and lead the horses up the steep bank. Attracted by the unusual sight of a wildly gesticulating group on the river bluff, the settlers from the Fort hurried down to the scene of action. Capt. Boggs and Alfred Clarke joined the crowd. Old Sam came running down from the barn. All were intensely excited and Col. Zane and Jonathan reached for the bridles and led the horses up the slippery incline.

  “Eb, Jack, Silas, here I am alive and well,” cried Isaac as he leaped from his horse. “Betty, you darling, it’s Isaa
c. Don’t stand staring as if I were a ghost.”

  Whereupon Betty ran to him, flung her arms around his neck and clung to him. Isaac kissed her tenderly and disengaged himself from her arms.

  “You’ll get all wet. Glad to see me? Well, I never had such a happy moment in my life. Betty, I have brought you home one whom you must love. This is Myeerah, your sister. She is wet and cold. Take her home and make her warm and comfortable. You must forget all the past, for Myeerah has saved me from the stake.”

  Betty had forgotten the other. At her brother’s words she turned and saw a slender form. Even the wet, mud-stained and ragged Indian costume failed to hide the grace of that figure. She saw a beautiful face, as white as her own, and dark eyes full of unshed tears.

  “The Eagle is free,” said the Indian girl in her low, musical voice.

  “You have brought him home to us. Come,” said Betty taking the hand of the trembling maiden.

  The settlers crowded round Isaac and greeted him warmly while they plied him with innumerable questions. Was he free? Who was the Indian girl? Had he run off with her? Were the Indians preparing for war?

  On the way to the Colonel’s house Isaac told briefly of his escape from the Wyandots, of his capture by Cornplanter, and of his rescue. He also mentioned the preparations for war he had seen in Cornplanter’s camp, and Girty’s story of Col. Crawford’s death.

  “How does it come that you have the Indian girl with you?” asked Col. Zane as they left the curious settlers and entered the house.

  “I am going to marry Myeerah and I brought her with me for that purpose. When we are married I will go back to the Wyandots and live with them until peace is declared.”

  “Humph! Will it be declared?”

  “Myeerah has promised it, and I believe she can bring it about, especially if I marry her. Peace with the Hurons may help to bring about peace with the Shawnees. I shall never cease to work for that end; but even if peace cannot be secured, my duty still is to Myeerah. She saved me from a most horrible death.”

  “If your marriage with this Indian girl will secure the friendly offices of that grim old warrior Tarhe, it is far more than fighting will ever do. I do not want you to go back. Would we ever see you again?”

  “Oh, yes, often I hope. You see, if I marry Myeerah the Hurons will allow me every liberty.”

  “Well, that puts a different light on the subject.”

  “Oh, how I wish you and Jonathan could have seen Thundercloud and his two hundred warriors ride into Cornplanter’s camp. It was magnificent! The braves were all crowded near the stake where I was bound. The fire had been lighted. Suddenly the silence was shattered by an awful yell. It was Thundercloud’s yell. I knew it because I had heard it before, and anyone who had once heard that yell could never forget it. In what seemed an incredibly short time Thundercloud’s warriors were lined up in the middle of the camp. The surprise was so complete that, had it been necessary, they could have ridden Cornplanter’s braves down, killed many, routed the others, and burned the village. Cornplanter will not get over that surprise in many a moon.”

  Betty had always hated the very mention of the Indian girl who had been the cause of her brother’s long absence from home. But she was so happy in the knowledge of his return that she felt that it was in her power to forgive much; more over, the white, weary face of the Indian maiden touched Betty’s warm heart. With her quick intuition she had divined that this was even a greater trial for Myeerah. Undoubtedly the Indian girl feared the scorn of her lover’s people. She showed it in her trembling hands, in her fearful glances.

  Finding that Myeerah could speak and understand English, Betty became more interested in her charge every moment. She set about to make Myeerah comfortable, and while she removed the wet and stained garments she talked all the time. She told her how happy she was that Isaac was alive and well. She said Myeerah’s heroism in saving him should atone for all the past, and that Isaac’s family would welcome her in his home.

  Gradually Myeerah’s agitation subsided under Betty’s sweet graciousness, and by the time Betty had dressed her in a white gown, had brushed the dark hair and added a bright ribbon to the simple toilet, Myeerah had so far forgotten her fears as to take a shy pleasure in the picture of herself in the mirror. As for Betty, she gave vent to a little cry of delight. “Oh, you are perfectly lovely,” cried Betty. “In that gown no one would know you as a Wyandot princess.”

  “Myeerah’s mother was a white woman.”

  “I have heard your story, Myeerah, and it is wonderful. You must tell me all about your life with the Indians. You speak my language almost as well as I do. Who taught you?”

  “Myeerah learned to talk with the White Eagle. She can speak French with the Coureurs-des-bois.”

  “That’s more than I can do, Myeerah. And I had French teacher,” said Betty, laughing.

  “Hello, up there,” came Isaac’s voice from below.

  “Come up, Isaac,” called Betty.

  “Is this my Indian sweetheart?” exclaimed Isaac, stopping at the door. “Betty, isn’t she—”

  “Yes,” answered Betty, “she is simply beautiful.”

  “Come, Myeerah, we must go down to supper,” said Isaac, taking her in his arms and kissing her. “Now you must not be afraid, nor mind being looked at.”

  “Everyone will be kind to you,” said Betty, taking her hand. Myeerah had slipped from Isaac’s arm and hesitated and hung back. “Come,” continued Betty, “I will stay with you, and you need not talk if you do not wish.”

  Thus reassured Myeerah allowed Betty to lead her down stairs. Isaac had gone ahead and was waiting at the door.

  The big room was brilliantly lighted with pine knots. Mrs. Zane was arranging the dishes on the table. Old Sam and Annie were hurrying to and fro from the kitchen. Col. Zane had just come up the cellar stairs carrying a mouldy looking cask. From its appearance it might have been a powder keg, but the merry twinkle in the Colonel’s eyes showed that the cask contained something as precious, perhaps, as powder, but not quite so dangerous. It was a cask of wine over thirty years old. With Col. Zane’s other effects it had stood the test of the long wagon-train journey over the Virginia mountains, and of the raft-ride down the Ohio. Col. Zane thought the feast he had arranged for Isaac would be a fitting occasion for the breaking of the cask.

  Major McCullough, Capt. Boggs and Hugh Bennet had been invited. Wetzel had been persuaded to come. Betty’s friends Lydia and Alice were there.

  As Isaac, with an air of pride, led the two girls into the room Old Sam saw them and he exclaimed, “For de Lawd’s sakes, Marsh Zane, dar’s two pippins, sure can’t tell ’em from one anudder.”

  Betty and Myeerah did resemble each other. They were of about the same size, tall and slender. Betty was rosy, bright-eyed and smiling; Myeerah was pale one moment and red the next.

  “Friends, this is Myeerah, the daughter of Tarhe,” said Isaac simply. “We are to be married tomorrow.”

  “Oh, why did you not tell me?” asked Betty in great surprise. “She said nothing about it.”

  “You see Myeerah has that most excellent trait in a woman—knowing when to keep silent,” answered Isaac with a smile.

  The door opened at this moment, admitting Will Martin and Alfred Clarke.

  “Everybody is here now, Bessie, and I guess we may as well sit down to supper,” said Col. Zane. “And, good friends, let me say that this is an occasion for rejoicing. It is not so much a marriage that I mean. That we might have any day if Lydia or Betty would show some of the alacrity which got a good husband for Alice. Isaac is a free man and we expect his marriage will bring about peace with a powerful tribe of Indians. To us, and particularly to you, young people, that is a matter of great importance. The friendship of the Hurons cannot but exert an influence on other tribes. I, myself, may live to see the day that my dream shall be realized—peaceful and friendly relations with the Indians, the freedom of the soil, well-tilled farms and growing settlemen
ts, and at last, the opening of this glorious country to the world. Therefore, let us rejoice; let every one be happy; let your gayest laugh ring out, and tell your best story.”

  Betty had blushed painfully at the entrance of Alfred and again at the Colonel’s remark. To add to her embarrassment she found herself seated opposite Alfred at the table. This was the first time he had been near her since the Sunday at the meeting-house, and the incident had a singular effect on Betty. She found herself possessed, all at once, of an unaccountable shyness, and she could not lift her eyes from her plate. But at length she managed to steal a glance at Alfred. She failed to see any signs in his beaming face of the broken spirit of which her brother had hinted. He looked very well indeed. He was eating his dinner like any other healthy man, and talking and laughing with Lydia. This developed another unaccountable feeling in Betty, but this time it was resentment. Who ever heard of a man, who was as much in love as his letter said, looking well and enjoying himself with any other than the object of his affections? He had got over it, that was all. Just then Alfred turned and gazed full into Betty’s eyes. She lowered them instantly, but not so quickly that she failed to see in his a reproach.

  “You are going to stay with us a while, are you not?” asked Betty of Isaac.

  “No, Betts, not more than a day or so. Now, do not look so distressed. I do not go back as a prisoner. Myeerah and I can often come and visit you. But just now I want to get back and try to prevent the Delawares from urging Tarhe to war.”

  “Isaac, I believe you are doing the wisest thing possible,” said Capt. Boggs. “And when I look at your bride-to-be I confess I do not see how you remained single so long.”

  “That’s so, Captain,” answered Isaac. “But you see, I have never been satisfied or contented in captivity, I wanted nothing but to be free.”

  “In other words, you were blind,” remarked Alfred, smiling at Isaac.

  “Yes, Alfred, was. And I imagine had you been in my place you would have discovered the beauty and virtue of my Princess long before I did. Nevertheless, please do not favor Myeerah with so many admiring glances. She is not used to it. And that reminds me that I must expect trouble tomorrow. All you fellows will want to kiss her.”