The Zane Grey Megapack

by Zane Grey

  Bewitchingly sweet she was then, with the girlish charm of coquetry almost lost in the deeper, stranger power of the woman.

  The borderman drew his breath sharply; then he wrapped his long arms closely round her. She, understanding that victory was hers, sank weeping upon his breast. For a moment he bowed his face over her, and when he lifted it the dark and terrible gloom had gone.

  “Eb, let him go, an’ at once,” ordered Jonathan. “Give him a rifle, some meat, an’ a canoe, for he can’t travel, an’ turn him loose. Only be quick about it, because if Wetzel comes in, God himself couldn’t save the outlaw.”

  It was an indescribable glance that Brandt cast upon the tearful face of the girl who had saved his life. But without a word he followed Colonel Zane from the room.

  The crowd slowly filed down the steps. Betty and Nell lingered behind, their eyes beaming through happy tears. Jonathan, long so cold, showed evidence of becoming as quick and passionate a lover as he had been a borderman. At least, Helen had to release herself from his embrace, and it was a blushing, tear-stained face she turned to her friends.

  When they reached the stockade gate Colonel Zane was hurrying toward the river with a bag in one hand, and a rifle and a paddle in the other. Brandt limped along after him, the two disappearing over the river bank.

  Betty, Nell, and the lovers went to the edge of the bluff.

  They saw Colonel Zane choose a canoe from among a number on the beach. He launched it, deposited the bag in the bottom, handed the rifle and paddle to Brandt, and wheeled about.

  The outlaw stepped aboard, and, pushing off slowly, drifted down and out toward mid-stream. When about fifty yards from shore he gave a quick glance around, and ceased paddling. His face gleamed white, and his eyes glinted like bits of steel in the sun.

  Suddenly he grasped the rifle, and, leveling it with the swiftness of thought, fired at Jonathan.

  The borderman saw the act, even from the beginning, and must have read the outlaw’s motive, for as the weapon flashed he dropped flat on the bank. The bullet sang harmlessly over him, imbedding itself in the stockade fence with a distinct thud.

  The girls were so numb with horror that they could not even scream.

  Colonel Zane swore lustily. “Where’s my gun? Get me a gun. Oh! What did I tell you?”

  “Look!” cried Jonathan as he rose to his feet.

  Upon the sand-bar opposite stood a tall, dark, familiar figure.

  “By all that’s holy, Wetzel!” exclaimed Colonel Zane.

  They saw the giant borderman raise a long, black rifle, which wavered and fell, and rose again. A little puff of white smoke leaped out, accompanied by a clear, stinging report.

  Brandt dropped the paddle he had hurriedly begun plying after his traitor’s act. His white face was turned toward the shore as it sank forward to rest at last upon the gunwale of the canoe. Then his body slowly settled, as if seeking repose. His hand trailed outside in the water, drooping inert and lifeless. The little craft drifted down stream.

  “You see, Helen, it had to be,” said Colonel Zane gently. “What a dastard! A long shot, Jack! Fate itself must have glanced down the sights of Wetzel’s rifle.”

  CHAPTER XXV

  A year rolled round; once again Indian summer veiled the golden fields and forests in a soft, smoky haze. Once more from the opal-blue sky of autumn nights, shone the great white stars, and nature seemed wrapped in a melancholy hush.

  November the third was the anniversary of a memorable event on the frontier—the marriage of the younger borderman.

  Colonel Zane gave it the name of “Independence Day,” and arranged a holiday, a feast and dance where all the settlement might meet in joyful thankfulness for the first year of freedom on the border.

  With the wiping out of Legget’s fierce band, the yoke of the renegades and outlaws was thrown off forever. Simon Girty migrated to Canada and lived with a few Indians who remained true to him. His confederates slowly sank into oblivion. The Shawnee tribe sullenly retreated westward, far into the interior of Ohio; the Delawares buried the war hatchet, and smoked the pipe of peace they had ever before refused. For them the dark, mysterious, fatal wind had ceased to moan along the trails, or sigh through tree-tops over lonely Indian camp-fires.

  The beautiful Ohio valley had been wrested from the savages and from those parasites who for years had hung around the necks of the red men.

  This day was the happiest of Colonel Zane’s life. The task he had set himself, and which he had hardly ever hoped to see completed, was ended. The West had been won. What Boone achieved in Kentucky he had accomplished in Ohio and West Virginia.

  The feast was spread on the colonel’s lawn. Every man, woman and child in the settlement was there. Isaac Zane, with his Indian wife and child, had come from the far-off Huron town. Pioneers from Yellow Creek and eastward to Fort Pitt attended. The spirit of the occasion manifested itself in such joyousness as had never before been experienced in Fort Henry. The great feast was equal to the event. Choice cuts of beef and venison, savory viands, wonderful loaves of bread and great plump pies, sweet cider and old wine, delighted the merry party.

  “Friends, neighbors, dear ones,” said Colonel Zane, “my heart is almost too full for speech. This occasion, commemorating the day of our freedom on the border, is the beginning of the reward for stern labor, hardship, silenced hearths of long, relentless years. I did not think I’d live to see it. The seed we have sown has taken root; in years to come, perhaps, a great people will grow up on these farms we call our homes. And as we hope those coming afterward will remember us, we should stop a moment to think of the heroes who have gone before. Many there are whose names will never be written on the roll of fame, whose graves will be unmarked in history. But we who worked, fought, bled beside them, who saw them die for those they left behind, will render them all justice, honor and love. To them we give the victory. They were true; then let us, who begin to enjoy the freedom, happiness and prosperity they won with their lives, likewise be true in memory of them, in deed to ourselves, and in grace to God.”

  By no means the least of the pleasant features of this pleasant day was the fact that three couples blushingly presented themselves before the colonel, and confided to him their sudden conclusions in regard to the felicitousness of the moment. The happy colonel raced around until he discovered Jim Douns, the minister, and there amid the merry throng he gave the brides away, being the first to kiss them.

  It was late in the afternoon when the villagers dispersed to their homes and left the colonel to his own circle. With his strong, dark face beaming, he mounted the old porch step.

  “Where are my Zane babies?” he asked. “Ah! here you are! Did anybody ever see anything to beat that? Four wonderful babies! Mother, here’s your Daniel—if you’d only named him Eb! Silas, come for Silas junior, bad boy that he is. Isaac, take your Indian princess; ah! little Myeerah with the dusky face. Woe be to him who looks into those eyes when you come to age. Jack, here’s little Jonathan, the last of the bordermen; he, too, has beautiful eyes, big like his mother’s. Ah! well, I don’t believe I have left a wish, unless—”

  “Unless?” suggested Betty with her sweet smile.

  “It might be—” he said and looked at her.

  Betty’s warm cheek was close to his as she whispered: “Dear Eb!” The rest only the colonel heard.

  “Well! By all that’s glorious!” he exclaimed, and attempted to seize her; but with burning face Betty fled.

  * * * *

  “Jack, dear, how the leaves are falling!” exclaimed Helen. “See them floating and whirling. It reminds me of the day I lay a prisoner in the forest glade praying, waiting for you.”

  The borderman was silent.

  They passed down the sandy lane under the colored maple trees, to a new cottage on the hillside.

  “I am perfectly happy today,” continued Helen. “Everybody seems to be content, except you. For the first time in weeks I see that shade on your face
, that look in your eyes. Jack, you do not regret the new life?”

  “My love, no, a thousand times no,” he answered, smiling down into her eyes. They were changing, shadowing with thought; bright as in other days, and with an added beauty. The wilful spirit had been softened by love.

  “Ah, I know, you miss the old friend.”

  The yellow thicket on the slope opened to let out a tall, dark man who came down with lithe and springy stride.

  “Jack, it’s Wetzel!” said Helen softly.

  No words were spoken as the comrades gripped hands.

  “Let me see the boy?” asked Wetzel, turning to Helen.

  Little Jonathan blinked up at the grave borderman with great round eyes, and pulled with friendly, chubby fingers at the fringed buckskin coat.

  “When you’re a man the forest trails will be corn fields,” muttered Wetzel.

  The bordermen strolled together up the brown hillside, and wandered along the river bluff. The air was cool; in the west the ruddy light darkened behind bold hills; a blue mist streaming in the valley shaded into gray as twilight fell.

  THE SHORTSTOP (1909) [Part 1]

  DEDICATION

  To My Brother, Reddy Grey,

  To Arthur Irwin, My Coach and Teacher,

  To Roy Thomas and Ray Kellogg, Fellow-Players and Friends,

  And to All the Girls and All the Boys

  Who Love the…

  GRAND OLD AMERICAN GAME

  CHAPTER I

  PERSUADING MOTHER

  Chase Calloway hurried out of the factory door and bent his steps homeward. He wore a thoughtful, anxious look, as of one who expected trouble. Yet there was a briskness in his stride that showed the excitement under which he labored was not altogether unpleasant.

  In truth, he had done a strange and momentous thing; he had asked the foreman for higher wages, and being peremptorily refused, had thrown up his place and was now on his way home to tell his mother.

  He crossed the railroad tracks to make a short cut, and threaded his way through a maze of smoke-blackened buildings, to come into narrow street lined with frame houses. He entered a yard that could not boast of a fence, and approached a house as unprepossessing as its neighbors.

  Chase hesitated on the steps, then opened the door. There was no one in the small, bare, clean kitchen. With a swing which had something of an air of finality about it, he threw his dinner-pail into a corner.

  “There!” he said grimly, as if he had done with it. “Mother, where are you?”

  Mrs. Alloway came in, a slight little woman, pale, with marks of care on her patient face. She greeted him with a smile, which faded quickly in surprise and dismay.

  “You’re home early, Chase,” she said anxiously.

  “Mother, I told you I was going to ask for more money. Well, I did. The foreman laughed at me and refused. So I threw up my job.”

  “My boy! My boy!” faltered Mrs. Alloway.

  Chase was the only breadwinner in their household of three. His brother, a bright, studious boy of fifteen, was a cripple. Mrs. Alloway helped all she could with her needle, but earned little enough. The winter had been a hard one, and had left them with debts that must be paid. It was no wonder she gazed up at him in distressed silence.

  “I’ve been sick of this job for a long time,” went on Chase. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. There’s no chance for me in the factory. I’m not quick enough to catch the hang of mechanics. Here I am over seventeen and big and strong, and I’m making six dollars a week. Think of it! Why, if I had a chance— See here, mother, haven’t I studied nights ever since I left school to go to work? I’m no dummy. I can make something of myself. I want to get into business—business for myself, where I can buy and sell.”

  “My son, it takes money to go into business. Where on earth can you get any?”

  “I’ll make it,” replied Chase, eagerly. A flush reddened his cheek. He would have been handsome then, but for his one defect, a crooked eye. “I’ll make it. I need money quick—and I’ve hit on the way to make it. I—”

  “How?”

  The short query drew him up sharply, chilling his enthusiasm. He paced the kitchen, and then, with a visible effort, turned to his mother.

  “I am going to be a baseball player.”

  The murder was out now and he felt relief. His mother sat down with a little gasp. He waited quietly for her refusal, her reproach, her arguments, ready to answer them one by one.

  “I won’t let you be a ball player.”

  “Mother, since father left us to shift for ourselves, I’ve been the head of the house. I never disobeyed you before, but now— I’ve thought it out. I’ve made my plan.”

  “Bah. Players are good-for-nothing loafers, rowdies. I won’t have my son associate with them.”

  “They’ve a bad name, I’ll admit; but, mother, I don’t think it’s deserved. I’m not sure, but I believe they’re not so black as they are painted. Anyway, even if they are, it won’t hurt me. I’ve an idea that a young man can be square and successful in baseball as in anything else. I’d rather take any other chance, but there isn’t any.”

  “Oh! The disgrace of it! Your father would—”

  “Now, see here, mother, you’re wrong. It’s no disgrace. Why, it’s a thousand times better than being a bartender, and I’d be that to help along. As for father,” his voice grew bitter, “if he’d been the right sort, we wouldn’t be here in this hovel. You’d have what you were once used to, and I’d be in school.”

  “You’re not strong enough; you would get hurt,” protested the mother.

  “Why, I’m as strong as a horse. I’m not afraid of being hurt. Ever since last summer when I made such a good record with the factory nine this idea has been growing. They say I’m one of the fastest boys in Akron, and this summer the big nine at the round-house wants me. It’s opened my eyes. With a little more experience, I could get on a salaried team somewhere.”

  “You wouldn’t go away?”

  “I’ll have to. And, for another thing, I want to go at once.”

  Mrs. Alloway felt the ground slipping from under her. She opened her lips to make further remonstrance, but Chase kissed them shut, and keeping his arm around her, led her into the sitting-room. A pale youth, slight, like his mother, sat reading by a window.

  “Will,” said Chase, “I’ve some news for you. Can you get through school, say in a year or less, and prepare for college?”

  The younger boy looked up with a slight smile, such as he was wont to use in warding off Chase’s persistent optimism. The smile said sadly that he knew he would never go to college. But something in Chase’s straight eye startled him, then his mother’s white, agitated face told him this was different. He rose and limped a couple of steps toward them, a warm color suddenly tingeing his cheeks.

  “What do you mean?” he questioned.

  Then Chase told him. In conclusion he said: “Will, there’s big money in it. Three thousand a season is common, five for a great player. Who knows? Anyway, there’s from fifty to a hundred a month even in these Ohio and Michigan teams, and that’ll do to start with. You just take this from me: there’ll be a comfortable home for mother, you’ll go to college, and later I’ll get into business. It’s all settled. What do you think of it?”

  “It’s great!” exclaimed Will, slamming down his book. There was a flame in his eyes.

  Mrs. Alloway dropped her hands. She was persuaded. That from Will was the last straw. Tears began to fall.

  “Mother, don’t be unhappy,” said Chase. “I am suited for something better than factory work. There’s a big chance for me here. Mind you, I’m only seventeen. Suppose I play ball for a few years. I’ll save my money, and when I’m twenty-two or twenty-five I can start a business of my own. It looks good to me!”

  “But, my boy—if it—ruins you!”

  “I don’t like to see Chase leave us,” said Will, “but I’m not afraid of that.”

  Mrs. Alloway dried h
er eyes, called up her smile, and told them she was not afraid of it either. Thereafter her composure did not leave her, though her sensitive lips quivered when she saw Chase packing a small grip.

  “I don’t want to take much,” he mused, “and most of all I’ll want my glove and ball-shoes. Will, isn’t it lucky about the shoes that college man gave me? They’re full of spikes. I’ve never played in them, but I tried them on, and I’ll bet I can run like a streak in them.”

  It was not long after that when he kissed his mother as she followed him to the doorway. Will limped after him a little way down the path and shook hands for the tenth time. His eyes were wet as his mother’s, but Chase’s were bright and had a bold look.

  “Chase, I never saw anyone who could run and throw like you, and I believe you’ll make the greatest player in the whole country. Don’t forget. It’ll be hard at first. But you hang on! Hang on! There! Good luck! Good-bye!”

  Chase turned at the corner of the street and waved to them. There was a lump in his throat which was difficult to swallow. But it was too late to go back, so he struck out bravely.

  CHAPTER II

  RIDING AWAY

  The fact that Chase had no objective point in mind did not detract from the new and absorbing charm of his situation. No more would he breathe the dust-laden air nor hear the din of the factory. He was free; free to go where he listed, to see new people and places, to find his fortune. He crushed back the pain in his throat; he reconciled himself to the parting from his mother and brother by the assurance that so he could serve them best.

  It was twilight when he reached the railroad tracks, where he stopped momentarily. Would he go to the left or to the right? A moment only did he tarry undecided; after all, there was only one course for him to start on and keep to, whether of direction or purpose, and that was to the right.

  Darkness had settled down by the time he came to the outskirts of the town, and now secure in the belief that he would not be seen, he stopped to wait for a train. It was out of the question for him to think of riding in a passenger train. That cost money; and he must save what little he had. On Saturdays, before he left school, he had ridden on freight trains; and what he had done for fun he would now do in earnest. Some of the railroads running into town forbade riding, others did not care; and Chase took his stand by the track of one of the generous roads.