by Zane Grey
CHAPTER II.
Fort Henry stood on a bluff overlooking the river and commanded afine view of the surrounding country. In shape it was aparallelogram, being about three hundred and fifty-six feet inlength, and one hundred and fifty in width. Surrounded by a stockadefence twelve feet high, with a yard wide walk running around theinside, and with bastions at each corner large enough to contain sixdefenders, the fort presented an almost impregnable defense. Theblockhouse was two stories in height, the second story projectingout several feet over the first. The thick white oak walls bristledwith portholes. Besides the blockhouse, there were a number ofcabins located within the stockade. Wells had been sunk inside theinclosure, so that if the spring happened to go dry, an abundance ofgood water could be had at all times.
In all the histories of frontier life mention is made of the fortsand the protection they offered in time of savage warfare. Theseforts were used as homes for the settlers, who often lived for weeksinside the walls.
Forts constructed entirely of wood without the aid of a nail orspike (for the good reason that these things could not be had) mayseem insignificant in these days of great nasal and militarygarrisons. However, they answered the purpose at that time andserved to protect many an infant settlement from the savage attacksof Indian tribes. During a siege of Fort Henry, which had occurredabout a year previous, the settlers would have lost scarcely a manhad they kept to the fort. But Captain Ogle, at that time in chargeof the garrison, had led a company out in search of the Indians.Nearly all of his men were killed, several only making their way tothe fort.
On the day following Major McColloch's arrival at Fort Henry, thesettlers had been called in from their spring plowing and otherlabors, and were now busily engaged in moving their stock and thethings they wished to save from the destructive torch of theredskin. The women had their hands full with the children, thecleaning of rifles and moulding of bullets, and the thousand and onethings the sterner tasks of their husbands had left them. MajorMcColloch, Jonathan and Silas Zane, early in the day, had takendifferent directions along the river to keep a sharp lookout forsigns of the enemy. Colonel Zane intended to stay in his oven houseand defend it, so he had not moved anything to the fort exceptinghis horses and cattle. Old Sam, the negro, was hauling loads of hayinside the stockade. Captain Boggs had detailed several scouts towatch the roads and one of these was the young man, Clarke, who hadaccompanied the Major from Fort Pitt.
The appearance of Alfred Clarke, despite the fact that he wore theregulation hunting garb, indicated a young man to whom the hard workand privation of the settler were unaccustomed things. So thoughtthe pioneers who noticed his graceful walk, his fair skin and smoothhands. Yet those who carefully studied his clearcut features werefavorably impressed; the women, by the direct, honest gaze of hisblue eyes and the absence of ungentle lines in his face; the men, bythe good nature, and that indefinable something by which a man marksanother as true steel.
He brought nothing with him from Fort Pitt except his horse, ablack-coated, fine limbed thoroughbred, which he frankly confessedwas all he could call his own. When asking Colonel Zane to give hima position in the garrison he said he was a Virginian and had beeneducated in Philadelphia; that after his father died his mothermarried again, and this, together with a natural love of adventure,had induced him to run away and seek his fortune with the hardypioneer and the cunning savage of the border. Beyond a few months'service under General Clark he knew nothing of frontier life; but hewas tired of idleness; he was strong and not afraid of work, and hecould learn. Colonel Zane, who prided himself on his judgment ofcharacter, took a liking to the young man at once, and giving him arifle and accoutrements, told him the border needed young men ofpluck and fire, and that if he brought a strong hand and a willingheart he could surely find fortune. Possibly if Alfred Clarke couldhave been told of the fate in store for him he might have mountedhis black steed and have placed miles between him and the frontiervillage; but, as there were none to tell, he went cheerfully out tomeet that fate.
On this is bright spring morning he patrolled the road leading alongthe edge of the clearing, which was distant a quarter of a mile fromthe fort. He kept a keen eye on the opposite side of the river, ashe had been directed. From the upper end of the island, almoststraight across from where he stood, the river took a broad turn,which could not be observed from the fort windows. The river washigh from the recent rains and brush heaps and logs and debris ofall descriptions were floating down with the swift current. Rabbitsand other small animals, which had probably been surrounded on someisland and compelled to take to the brush or drown, crouched onfloating logs and piles of driftwood. Happening to glance down theroad, Clarke saw a horse galloping in his direction. At first hethought it was a messenger for himself, but as it neared him he sawthat the horse was an Indian pony and the rider a young girl, whoselong, black hair was flying in the wind.
"Hello! I wonder what the deuce this is? Looks like an Indian girl,"said Clarke to himself. "She rides well, whoever she may be."
He stepped behind a clump of laurel bushes near the roadside andwaited. Rapidly the horse and rider approached him. When they werebut a few paces distant he sprang out and, as the pony shied andreared at sight of him, he clutched the bridle and pulled the pony'shead down. Looking up he encountered the astonished and bewilderedgaze from a pair of the prettiest dark eyes it had ever been hisfortune, or misfortune, to look into.
Betty, for it was she, looked at the young man in amazement, whileAlfred was even more surprised and disconcerted. For a moment theylooked at each other in silence. But Betty, who was scarcely ever ata loss for words, presently found her voice.
"Well, sir! What does this mean?" she asked indignantly.
"It means that you must turn around and go back to the fort,"answered Alfred, also recovering himself.
Now Betty's favorite ride happened to be along this road. It layalong the top of the bluff a mile or more and afforded a fineunobstructed view of the river. Betty had either not heard of theCaptain's order, that no one was to leave the fort, or she haddisregarded it altogether; probably the latter, as she generally didwhat suited her fancy.
"Release my pony's head!" she cried, her face flushing, as she gavea jerk to the reins. "How dare you? What right have you to detainme?"
The expression Betty saw on Clarke's face was not new to her, forshe remembered having seen it on the faces of young gentlemen whomshe had met at her aunt's house in Philadelphia. It was the slight,provoking smile of the man familiar with the various moods of youngwomen, the expression of an amused contempt for their imperiousness.But it was not that which angered Betty. It was the coolness withwhich he still held her pony regardless of her commands.
"Pray do not get excited," he said. "I am sorry I cannot allow sucha pretty little girl to have her own way. I shall hold your ponyuntil you say you will go back to the fort."
"Sir!" exclaimed Betty, blushing a bright-red. "You--you areimpertinent!"
"Not at all," answered Alfred, with a pleasant laugh. "I am sure Ido not intend to be. Captain Boggs did not acquaint me with fullparticulars or I might have declined my present occupation: not,however, that it is not agreeable just at this moment. He shouldhave mentioned the danger of my being run down by Indian ponies andimperious young ladies."
"Will you let go of that bridle, or shall I get off and walk backfor assistance?" said Betty, getting angrier every moment.
"Go back to the fort at once," ordered Alfred, authoritatively."Captain Boggs' orders are that no one shall be allowed to leave theclearing."
"Oh! Why did you not say so? I thought you were Simon Girty, or ahighwayman. Was it necessary to keep me here all this time toexplain that you were on duty?"
"You know sometimes it is difficult to explain," said Alfred,"besides, the situation had its charm. No, I am not a robber, and Idon't believe you thought so. I have only thwarted a young lady'swhim, which I am aware is a great crime. I am very sorry. Goodbye."
Betty
gave him a withering glance from her black eyes, wheeled herpony and galloped away. A mellow laugh was borne to her ears beforeshe got out of hearing, and again the red blood mantled her cheeks.
"Heavens! What a little beauty," said Alfred to himself, as hewatched the graceful rider disappear. "What spirit! Now, I wonderwho she can be. She had on moccasins and buckskin gloves and herhair tumbled like a tomboy's, but she is no backwoods girl, I'll beton that. I'm afraid I was a little rude, but after taking such astand I could not weaken, especially before such a haughty anddisdainful little vixen. It was too great a temptation. What eyesshe had! Contrary to what I expected, this little frontiersettlement bids fair to become interesting."
The afternoon wore slowly away, and until late in the day nothingfurther happened to disturb Alfred's meditations, which consistedchiefly of different mental views and pictures of red lips and blackeyes. Just as he decided to return to the fort for his supper heheard the barking of a dog that he had seen running along the roadsome moments before. The sound came from some distance down theriver bank and nearer the fort. Walking a few paces up the bluffAlfred caught sight of a large black dog running along the edge ofthe water. He would run into the water a few paces and then come outand dash along the shore. He barked furiously all the while. Alfredconcluded that he must have been excited by a fox or perhaps a wolf;so he climbed down the steep bank and spoke to the dog. Thereuponthe dog barked louder and more fiercely than ever, ran to the water,looked out into the river and then up at the man with almost humanintelligence.
Alfred understood. He glanced out over the muddy water, at firstmaking out nothing but driftwood. Then suddenly he saw a log with anobject clinging to it which he took to be a man, and an Indian atthat. Alfred raised his rifle to his shoulder and was in the act ofpressing the trigger when he thought he heard a faint halloo.Looking closer, he found he was not covering the smooth polishedhead adorned with the small tuft of hair, peculiar to a redskin onthe warpath, but a head from which streamed long black hair.
Alfred lowered his rifle and studied intently the log with its humanburden. Drifting with the current it gradually approached the bank,and as it came nearer he saw that it bore a white man, who washolding to the log with one hand and with the other was makingfeeble strokes. He concluded the man was either wounded or nearlydrowned, for his movements were becoming slower and weaker everymoment. His white face lay against the log and barely above water.Alfred shouted encouraging words to him.
At the bend of the river a little rocky point jutted out a few yardsinto the water. As the current carried the log toward this point,Alfred, after divesting himself of some of his clothing, plunged inand pulled it to the shore. The pallid face of the man clinging tothe log showed that he was nearly exhausted, and that he had beenrescued in the nick of time. When Alfred reached shoal water heslipped his arm around the man, who was unable to stand, and carriedhim ashore.
The rescued man wore a buckskin hunting shirt and leggins andmoccasins of the same material, all very much the worse for wear.The leggins were torn into tatters and the moccasins worn through.His face was pinched with suffering and one arm was bleeding from agunshot wound near the shoulder.
"Can you not speak? Who are you?" asked Clarke, supporting the limpfigure.
The man made several efforts to answer, and finally said somethingthat to Alfred sounded like "Zane," then he fell to the groundunconscious.
All this time the dog had acted in a most peculiar manner, and ifAlfred had not been so intent on the man he would have noticed theanimal's odd maneuvers. He ran to and fro on the sandy beach; hescratched up the sand and pebbles, sending them flying in the air;he made short, furious dashes; he jumped, whirled, and, at last,crawled close to the motionless figure and licked its hand.
Clarke realized that he would not be able to carry the inanimatefigure, so he hurriedly put on his clothes and set out on a run forColonel Zane's house. The first person whom he saw was the old negroslave, who was brushing one of the Colonel's horses.
Sam was deliberate and took his time about everything. He slowlylooked up and surveyed Clarke with his rolling eyes. He did notrecognize in him any one he had ever seen before, and being of asullen and taciturn nature, especially with strangers, he seemed inno hurry to give the desired information as to Colonel Zane'swhereabouts.
"Don't stare at me that way, you damn nigger," said Clarke, who wasused to being obeyed by negroes. "Quick, you idiot. Where is theColonel?"
At that moment Colonel Zane came out of the barn and started tospeak, when Clarke interrupted him.
"Colonel, I have just pulled a man out of the river who says hisname is Zane, or if he did not mean that, he knows you, for hesurely said 'Zane.'"
"What!" ejaculated the Colonel, letting his pipe fall from hismouth.
Clarke related the circumstances in a few hurried words. Calling Samthey ran quickly down to the river, where they found the prostratefigure as Clarke had left it, the dog still crouched close by.
"My God! It is Isaac!" exclaimed Colonel Zane, when he saw the whiteface. "Poor boy, he looks as if he were dead. Are you sure he spoke?Of course he must have spoken for you could not have known. Yes, hisheart is still beating."
Colonel Zane raised his head from the unconscious man's breast,where he had laid it to listen for the beating heart.
"Clarke, God bless you for saving him," said he fervently. "It shallnever be forgotten. He is alive, and, I believe, only exhausted, forthat wound amounts to little. Let us hurry."
"I did not save him. It was the dog," Alfred made haste to answer.
They carried the dripping form to the house, where the door wasopened by Mrs. Zane.
"Oh, dear, another poor man," she said, pityingly. Then, as she sawhis face, "Great Heavens, it is Isaac! Oh! don't say he is dead!"
"Yes, it is Isaac, and he is worth any number of dead men yet," saidColonel Zane, as they laid the insensible man on the couch. "Bessie,there is work here for you. He has been shot."
"Is there any other wound beside this one in his arm?" asked Mrs.Zane, examining it.
"I do not think so, and that injury is not serious. It is lose ofblood, exposure and starvation. Clarke, will you please run over toCaptain Boggs and tell Betty to hurry home! Sam, you get a blanketand warm it by the fire. That's right, Bessie, bring the whiskey,"and Colonel Zane went on giving orders.
Alfred did not know in the least who Betty was, but, as he thoughtthat unimportant, he started off on a run for the fort. He had avague idea that Betty was the servant, possibly Sam's wife, or someone of the Colonel's several slaves.
Let us return to Betty. As she wheeled her pony and rode away fromthe scene of her adventure on the river bluff, her state of mind canbe more readily imagined than described. Betty hated opposition ofany kind, whether justifiable or not; she wanted her own way, andwhen prevented from doing as she pleased she invariably got angry.To be ordered and compelled to give up her ride, and that by astranger, was intolerable. To make it all the worse this strangerhad been decidedly flippant. He had familiarly spoken to her as "apretty little girl." Not only that, which was a great offense, buthe had stared at her, and she had a confused recollection of a gazein which admiration had been ill disguised. Of course, it was thatsoldier Lydia had been telling her about. Strangers were of so rarean occurrence in the little village that it was not probable therecould be more than one.
Approaching the house she met her brother who told her she hadbetter go indoors and let Sam put up the pony. Accordingly, Bettycalled the negro, and then went into the house. Bessie had gone tothe fort with the children. Betty found no one to talk to, so shetried to read. Finding she could not become interested she threw thebook aside and took up her embroidery. This also turned out auseless effort; she got the linen hopelessly twisted and tangled,and presently she tossed this upon the table. Throwing her shawlover her shoulders, for it was now late in the afternoon and growingchilly, she walked downstairs and out into the Yard. She strolledaimlessly to and fro
awhile, and then went over to the fort and intoCaptain Bogg's house, which adjoined the blockhouse. Here she foundLydia preparing flax.
"I saw you racing by on your pony. Goodness, how you can ride! Ishould be afraid of breaking my neck," exclaimed Lydia, as Bettyentered.
"My ride was spoiled," said Betty, petulantly.
"Spoiled? By what--whom?"
"By a man, of course," retorted Betty, whose temper still was high."It is always a man that spoils everything."
"Why, Betty, what in the world do you mean? I never heard you talkthat way," said Lydia, opening her blue eyes in astonishment.
"Well, Lyde, I'll tell you. I was riding down the river road andjust as I came to the end of the clearing a man jumped out frombehind some bushes and grasped Madcap's bridle. Imagine! For amoment I was frightened out of my wits. I instantly thought of theGirtys, who, I have heard, have evinced a fondness for kidnappinglittle girls. Then the fellow said he was on guard and ordered me,actually commanded me to go home."
"Oh, is that all?" said Lydia, laughing.
"No, that is not all. He--he said I was a pretty little girl andthat he was sorry I could not have my own way; that his presentoccupation was pleasant, and that the situation had its charm. Thevery idea. He was most impertinent," and Betty's telltale cheeksreddened again at the recollection.
"Betty, I do not think your experience was so dreadful, certainlynothing to put you out as it has," said Lydia, laughing merrily. "Beserious. You know we are not in the backwoods now and must notexpect so much of the men. These rough border men know little ofrefinement like that with which you have been familiar. Some of themare quiet and never speak unless addressed; their simplicity isremarkable; Lew Wetzel and your brother Jonathan, when they are notfighting Indians, are examples. On the other hand, some of them areboisterous and if they get anything to drink they will make troublefor you. Why, I went to a party one night after I had been here onlya few weeks and they played a game in which every man in the placekissed me."
"Gracious! Please tell me when any such games are likely to beproposed and I'll stay home," said Betty.
"I have learned to get along very well by simply making the best ofit," continued Lydia. "And to tell the truth, I have learned torespect these rugged fellows. They are uncouth; they have nomanners, but their hearts are honest and true, and that is of muchgreater importance in frontiersmen than the little attentions andcourtesies upon which women are apt to lay too much stress."
"I think you speak sensibly and I shall try and be more reasonablehereafter. But, to return to the man who spoiled my ride. He, atleast, is no frontiersman, notwithstanding his gun and his buckskinsuit. He is an educated man. His manner and accent showed that. Thenhe looked at me so differently. I know it was that soldier from FortPitt."
"Mr. Clarke? Why, of course!" exclaimed Lydia, clapping her hands inglee. "How stupid of me!"
"You seem to be amused," said Betty, frowning.
"Oh, Betty, it is such a good joke."
"Is it? I fail to see it."
"But I can. I am very much amused. You see, I heard Mr. Clarke say,after papa told him there were lots of pretty girls here, that heusually succeeded in finding those things out and without anyassistance. And the very first day he has met you and made youangry. It is delightful."
"Lyde, I never knew you could be so horrid."
"It is evident that Mr. Clarke is not only discerning, but notbackward in expressing his thoughts. Betty, I see a romance."
"Don't be ridiculous," retorted Betty, with an angry blush. "Ofcourse, he had a right to stop me, and perhaps he did me a good turnby keeping me inside the clearing, though I cannot imagine why hehid behind the bushes. But he might have been polite. He made meangry. He was so cool and--and--"
"I see," interrupted Lydia, teasingly. "He failed to recognize yourimportance."
"Nonsense, Lydia. I hope you do not think I am a silly little fool.It is only that I have not been accustomed to that kind oftreatment, and I will not have it."
Lydia was rather pleased that some one had appeared on the scene whodid not at once bow down before Betty, and therefore she took theyoung man's side of the argument.
"Do not be hard on poor Mr. Clarke. Maybe he mistook you for anIndian girl. He is handsome. I am sure you saw that."
"Oh, I don't remember how he looked," said Betty. She did remember,but would not admit it.
The conversation drifted into other channels after this, and soontwilight came stealing down on them. As Betty rose to go there camea hurried tap on the door.
"I wonder who would knock like that," said Lydia, rising "Betty,wait a moment while I open the door."
On doing this she discovered Clarke standing on the step with hiscap in his hand.
"Why, Mr. Clarke! Will you come in?" exclaimed Lydia. "Thank you,only for a moment," said Alfred. "I cannot stay. I came to findBetty. Is she here?"
He had not observed Betty, who had stepped back into the shadow ofthe darkening room. At his question Lydia became so embarrassed shedid not know what to say or do, and stood looking helplessly at him.
But Betty was equal to the occasion. At the mention of her firstname in such a familiar manner by this stranger, who had alreadygrievously offended her once before that day, Betty stood perfectlystill a moment, speechless with surprise, then she stepped quicklyout of the shadow.
Clarke turned as he heard her step and looked straight into a pairof dark, scornful eyes and a face pale with anger.
"If it be necessary that you use my name, and I do not see how thatcan be possible, will you please have courtesy enough to say MissZane?" she cried haughtily.
Lydia recovered her composure sufficiently to falter out:
"Betty, allow me to introduce--"
"Do not trouble yourself, Lydia. I have met this person once beforeto-day, and I do not care for an introduction."
When Alfred found himself gazing into the face that had haunted himall the afternoon, he forgot for the moment all about his errand. Hewas finally brought to a realization of the true state of affairs byLydia's words.
"Mr. Clarke, you are all wet. What has happened?" she exclaimed,noticing the water dripping from his garments.
Suddenly a light broke in on Alfred. So the girl he had accosted onthe road and "Betty" were one and the same person. His face flushed.He felt that his rudeness on that occasion may have merited censure,but that it had not justified the humiliation she had put upon him.
These two persons, so strangely brought together, and on whom Fatehad made her inscrutable designs, looked steadily into each other'seyes. What mysterious force thrilled through Alfred Clarke and madeBetty Zane tremble?
"Miss Boggs, I am twice unfortunate," said Alfred, tuning to Lydia,and there was an earnest ring in his deep voice "This time I amindeed blameless. I have just left Colonel Zane's house, where therehas been an accident, and I was dispatched to find 'Betty,' beingentirely ignorant as to who she might be. Colonel Zane did not stopto explain. Miss Zane is needed at the house, that is all."
And without so much as a glance at Betty he bowed low to Lydia andthen strode out of the open door.
"What did he say?" asked Betty, in a small trembling voice, all heranger and resentment vanished.
"There has been an accident. He did not say what or to whom. Youmust hurry home. Oh, Betty, I hope no one has been hurt! And youwere very unkind to Mr. Clarke. I am sure he is a gentleman, and youmight have waited a moment to learn what he meant."
Betty did not answer, but flew out of the door and down the path tothe gate of the fort. She was almost breathless when she reachedColonel Zane's house, and hesitated on the step before entering.Summoning her courage she pushed open the door. The first thing thatstruck her after the bright light was the pungent odor of strongliniment. She saw several women neighbors whispering together. MajorMcColloch and Jonathan Zane were standing by a couch over which Mrs.Zane was bending. Colonel Zane sat at the foot of the couch. Bettysaw this in the first rapid glance
, and then, as the Colonel's wifemoved aside, she saw a prostrate figure, a white face and dark eyesthat smiled at her.
"Betty," came in a low voice from those pale lips.
Her heart leaped and then seemed to cease beating. Many long yearshad passed since she had heard that voice, but it had never beenforgotten. It was the best beloved voice of her childhood, and withit came the sweet memories of her brother and playmate. With a cryof joy she fell on her knees beside him and threw her arms aroundhis neck.
"Oh, Isaac, brother, brother!" she cried, as she kissed him againand again. "Can it really be you? Oh, it is too good to be true!Thank God! I have prayed and prayed that you would be restored tous."
Then she began to cry and laugh at the same time in that strange wayin which a woman relieves a heart too full of joy. "Yes, Betty. Itis all that is left of me," he said, running his hand caressinglyover the dark head that lay on his breast.
"Betty, you must not excite him," said Colonel Zane.
"So you have not forgotten me?" whispered Isaac.
"No, indeed, Isaac. I have never forgotten," answered Betty, softly."Only last night I spoke of you and wondered if you were living. Andnow you are here. Oh, I am so happy!" The quivering lips and thedark eyes bright with tears spoke eloquently of her joy.
"Major will you tell Captain Boggs to come over after supper? Isaacwill be able to talk a little by then, and he has some news of theIndians," said Colonel Zane.
"And ask the young man who saved my life to come that I may thankhim," said Isaac.
"Saved your life?" exclaimed Betty, turning to her brother, insurprise, while a dark red flush spread over her face. A humiliatingthought had flashed into her mind.
"Saved his life, of course," said Colonel Zane, answering for Isaac."Young Clarke pulled him out of the river. Didn't he tell you?"
"No," said Betty, rather faintly.
"Well, he is a modest young fellow. He saved Isaac's life, there isno doubt of that. You will hear all about it after supper. Don'tmake Isaac talk any more at present."
Betty hid her face on Isaac's shoulder and remained quiet a fewmoments; then, rising, she kissed his cheek and went quietly to herroom. Once there she threw herself on the bed and tried to think.The events of the day, coming after a long string of monotonous,wearying days, had been confusing; they had succeeded one another insuch rapid order as to leave no time for reflection. The meeting bythe river with the rude but interesting stranger; the shock to herdignity; Lydia's kindly advice; the stranger again, this timeemerging from the dark depths of disgrace into the luminous light asthe hero of her brother's rescue--all these thoughts jumbled in hermind making it difficult for her to think clearly. But after a timeone thing forced itself upon her. She could not help being consciousthat she had wronged some one to whom she would be forever indebted.Nothing could alter that. She was under an eternal obligation to theman who had saved the life she loved best on earth. She had unjustlyscorned and insulted the man to whom she owed the life of herbrother.
Betty was passionate and quick-tempered, but she was generous andtender-hearted as well, and when she realized how unkind and cruelshe kind been she felt very miserable. Her position admitted of noretreat. No matter how much pride rebelled; no matter how much shedisliked to retract anything she had said, she knew no other courselay open to her. She would have to apologize to Mr. Clarke. Howcould she? What would she say? She remembered how cold and stern hisface had been as he turned from her to Lydia. Perplexed and unhappy,Betty did what any girl in her position would have done: sheresorted to the consoling and unfailing privilege of her sex--a goodcry.
When she became composed again she got up and bathed her hot cheeks,brushed her hair, and changed her gown for a becoming one of white.She tied a red ribbon about her throat and put a rosette in herhair. She had forgotten all about the Indians. By the time Mrs. Zanecalled her for supper she had her mind made up to ask Mr. Clarke'spardon, tell him she was sorry, and that she hoped they might befriends.
Isaac Zane's fame had spread from the Potomac to Detroit andLouisville. Many an anxious mother on the border used the story ofhis captivity as a means to frighten truant youngsters who hadevinced a love for running wild in the woods. The evening of Isaac'sreturn every one in the settlement called to welcome home thewanderer. In spite of the troubled times and the dark cloud hangingover them they made the occasion one of rejoicing.
Old John Bennet, the biggest and merriest man in the colony, came inand roared his appreciation of Isaac's return. He was a huge man,and when he stalked into the room he made the floor shake with hisheavy tread. His honest face expressed his pleasure as he stood overIsaac and nearly crushed his hand.
"Glad to see you, Isaac. Always knew you would come back. Alwayssaid so. There are not enough damn redskins on the river to keep youprisoner."
"I think they managed to keep him long enough," remarked Silas Zane.
"Well, here comes the hero," said Colonel Zane, as Clarke entered,accompanied by Captain Boggs, Major McColloch and Jonathan. "Anysign of Wetzel or the Indians?"
Jonathan had not yet seen his brother, and he went over and seizedIsaac's hand and wrung it without speaking.
"There are no Indians on this side of the river," said MajorMcColloch, in answer to the Colonel's question.
"Mr. Clarke, you do not seem impressed with your importance," saidColonel Zane. "My sister said you did not tell her what part youtook in Isaac's rescue."
"I hardly deserve all the credit," answered Alfred. "Your big blackdog merits a great deal of it."
"Well, I consider your first day at the fort a very satisfactoryone, and an augury of that fortune you came west to find."
"How are you?" said Alfred, going up to the couch where Isaac lay.
"I am doing well, thanks to you," said Isaac, warmly shakingAlfred's hand.
"It is good to see you pulling out all right," answered Alfred. "Itell you, I feared you were in a bad way when I got you out of thewater."
Isaac reclined on the couch with his head and shoulder propped up bypillows. He was the handsomest of the brothers. His face would havebeen but for the marks of privation, singularly like Betty's; thesame low, level brows and dark eyes; the same mouth, though the lipswere stronger and without the soft curves which made his sister'smouth so sweet.
Betty appeared at the door, and seeing the room filled with men shehesitated a moment before coming forward. In her white dress shemade such a dainty picture that she seemed out of place among thosesurroundings. Alfred Clarke, for one, thought such a charming visionwas wasted on the rough settlers, every one of whom wore a faded anddirty buckskin suit and a belt containing a knife and a tomahawk.Colonel Zane stepped up to Betty and placing his arm around herturned toward Clarke with pride in his eyes.
"Betty, I want to make you acquainted with the hero of the hour, Mr.Alfred Clarke. This is my sister."
Betty bowed to Alfred, but lowered her eyes instantly onencountering the young man's gaze.
"I have had the pleasure of meeting Miss Zane twice today," saidAlfred.
"Twice?" asked Colonel Zane, turning to Betty. She did not answer,but disengaged herself from his arm and sat down by Isaac.
"It was on the river road that I first met Miss Zane, although I didnot know her then," answered Alfred. "I had some difficulty instopping her pony from going to Fort Pitt, or some other place downthe river."
"Ha! Ha! Well, I know she rides that pony pretty hard," said ColonelZane, with his hearty laugh. "I'll tell you, Clarke, we have someriders here in the settlement. Have you heard of Major McColloch'sleap over the hill?"
"I have heard it mentioned, and I would like to hear the story,"responded Alfred. "I am fond of horses, and think I can ride alittle myself. I am afraid I shall be compelled to change my mind."
"That is a fine animal you rode from Fort Pitt," remarked the Major."I would like to own him."
"Come, draw your chairs up and he'll listen to Isaac's story," saidColonel Zane.
"
I have not much of a story to tell," said Isaac, in a voice stillweak and low. "I have some bad news, I am sorry to say, but I shallleave that for the last. This year, if it had been completed, wouldhave made my tenth year as a captive of the Wyandots. This lastperiod of captivity, which has been nearly four years, I have notbeen ill-treated and have enjoyed more comfort than any of you canimagine. Probably you are all familiar with the reason for my longcaptivity. Because of the interest of Myeerah, the Indian Princess,they have importuned me for years to be adopted into the tribe,marry the White Crane, as they call Myeerah, and become a Wyandotchief. To this I would never consent, though I have been careful notto provoke the Indians. I was allowed the freedom of the camp, buthave always been closely watched. I should still be with the Indianshad I not suspected that Hamilton, the British Governor, had formeda plan with the Hurons, Shawnees, Delawares, and other tribes, tostrike a terrible blow at the whites along, the river. For months Ihave watched the Indians preparing for an expedition, the extent ofwhich they had never before undertaken. I finally learned fromMyeerah that my suspicions were well founded. A favorable chance toescape presented and I took it and got away. I outran all thebraves, even Arrowswift, the Wyandot runner, who shot me through thearm. I have had a hard time of it these last three or four days,living on herbs and roots, and when I reached the river I was readyto drop. I pushed a log into the water and started to drift over.When the old dog saw me I knew I was safe if I could hold on. Once,when the young man pointed his gun at me, I thought it was all over.I could not shout very loud."
"Were you going to shoot?" asked Colonel Zane of Clarke.
"I took him for an Indian, but fortunately I discovered my mistakein time," answered Alfred.
"Are the Indians on the way here?" asked Jonathan.
"That I cannot say. At present the Wyandots are at home. But I knowthat the British and the Indians will make a combined attack on thesettlements. It may be a month, or a year, but it is coming."
"And Hamilton, the hair buyer, the scalp buyer, is behind the plan,"said Colonel Zane, in disgust.
"The Indians have their wrongs. I sympathize with them in many ways.We have robbed them, broken faith with them, and have not lived upto the treaties. Pipe and Wingenund are particularly bitter towardthe whites. I understand Cornplanter is also. He would give anythingfor Jonathan's scalp, and I believe any of the tribes would give ahundred of their best warriors for 'Black Wind,' as they call LewWetzel."
"Have you ever seen Red Fox?" asked Jonathan, who was sitting nearthe fire and as usual saying but little. He was the wildest and mostuntamable of all the Zanes. Most of the time he spent in the woods,not so much to fight Indians, as Wetzel did, but for pure love ofoutdoor life. At home he was thoughtful and silent.
"Yes, I have seen him," answered Isaac. "He is a Shawnee chief andone of the fiercest warriors in that tribe of fighters. He was atIndian-head, which is the name of one of the Wyandot villages, whenI visited there last, and he had two hundred of his best braves withhim."
"He is a bad Indian. Wetzel and I know him. He swore he would hangour scalps up in his wigwam," said Jonathan.
"What has he in particular against you?" asked Colonel Zane. "Ofcourse, Wetzel is the enemy of all Indians."
"Several years ago Wetzel and I were on a hunt down the river at theplace called Girty's Point, where we fell in with the tracks of fiveShawnees. I was for coming home, but Wetzel would not hear of it. Wetrailed the Indians and, coming up on them after dark, we tomahawkedthem. One of them got away crippled, but we could not follow himbecause we discovered that they had a white girl as captive, and oneof the red devils, thinking we were a rescuing party, had tomahawkedher. She was not quite dead. We did all we could to save her life.She died and we buried her on the spot. They were Red Fox's bravesand were on their way to his camp with the prisoner. A year or soafterwards I learned from a friendly Indian that the Shawnee chiefhad sworn to kill us. No doubt he will be a leader in the comingattack."
"We are living in the midst of terrible times," remarked ColonelZane. "Indeed, these are the times that try men's souls, but Ifirmly believe the day is not far distant when the redmen will bedriven far over the border."
"Is the Indian Princess pretty?" asked Betty of Isaac.
"Indeed she is, Betty, almost as beautiful as you are," said Isaac."She is tall and very fair for an Indian. But I have something totell about her more interesting than that. Since I have been withthe Wyandots this last time I have discovered a little of thejealously guarded secret of Myeerah's mother. When Tarhe and hisband of Hurons lived in Canada their home was in the Muskoka Lakesregion on the Moon river. The old warriors tell wonderful stories ofthe beauty of that country. Tarhe took captive some Frenchtravellers, among them a woman named La Durante. She had a beautifullittle girl. The prisoners, except this little girl, were released.When she grew up Tarhe married her. Myeerah is her child. Once Tarhetook his wife to Detroit and she was seen there by an old Frenchmanwho went crazy over her and said she was his child. Tarhe never wentto the white settlements again. So you see, Myeerah is from a greatFrench family on her mother's side, as this is old Frenchman wasprobably Chevalier La Durante, and Myeerah's grandfather."
"I would love to see her, and yet I hate her. What an odd name shehas," said Betty.
"It is the Indian name for the white crane, a rare and beautifulbird. I never saw one. The name has been celebrated among the Huronsas long as any one of them can remember. The Indians call her theWhite Crane, or Walk-in-the-Water, because of her love for wading inthe stream."
"I think we have made Isaac talk enough for one night," said ColonelZane. "He is tired out. Major, tell Isaac and Betty, and Mr. Clarke,too, of your jump over the cliff."
"I have heard of that leap from the Indians," said Isaac.
"Major, from what hill did you jump your horse?" asked Alfred.
"You know the bare rocky bluff that stands out prominently on thehill across the creek. From that spot Colonel Zane first saw thevalley, and from there I leaped my horse. I can never convincemyself that it really happened. Often I look up at that cliff indoubt. But the Indians and Colonel Zane, Jonathan, Wetzel and otherssay they actually saw the deed done, so I must accept it," saidMajor McColloch.
"It seems incredible!" said Alfred. "I cannot understand how a manor horse could go over that precipice and live."
"That is what we all say," responded the Colonel. "I suppose I shallhave to tell the story. We have fighters and makers of history here,but few talkers."
"I am anxious to hear it," answered Clarke, "and I am curious to seethis man Wetzel, whose fame has reached as far as my home, way downin Virginia."
"You will have your wish gratified soon, I have no doubt," resumedthe Colonel. "Well, now for the story of McColloch's mad ride forlife and his wonderful leap down Wheeling hill. A year ago, when thefort was besieged by the Indians, the Major got through the linesand made off for Short Creek. He returned next morning with fortymounted men. They marched boldly up to the gate, and all succeededin getting inside save the gallant Major, who had waited to be thelast man to go in. Finding it impossible to make the short distancewithout going under the fire of the Indians, who had rushed up toprevent the relief party from entering the fort, he wheeled his bigstallion, and, followed by the yelling band of savages, he took theroad leading around back of the fort to the top of the bluff. Theroad lay along the edge of the cliff and I saw the Major turn andwave his rifle at us, evidently with the desire of assuring us thathe was safe. Suddenly, on the very summit of the hill, he reined inhis horse as if undecided. I knew in an instant what had happened.The Major had run right into the returning party of Indians, whichhad been sent out to intercept our reinforcements. In a moment morewe heard the exultant yells of the savages, and saw them glidingfrom tree to tree, slowly lengthening out their line and surroundingthe unfortunate Major. They did not fire a shot. We in the fort werestupefied with horror, and stood helplessly with our useless guns,watching and waiting for the seem
ingly inevitable doom of ourcomrade. Not so with the Major! Knowing that he was a marked man bythe Indians and feeling that any death was preferable to thegauntlet, the knife, the stake and torch of the merciless savage, hehad grasped at a desperate chance. He saw his enemies stealthilydarting from rock to tree, and tree to bush, creeping through thebrush, and slipping closer and closer every moment. On three sideswere his hated foes and on the remaining side--the abyss. Without amoment's hesitation the intrepid Major spurred his horse at theprecipice. Never shall I forget that thrilling moment. The threehundred savages were silent as they realized the Major's intention.Those in the fort watched with staring eyes. A few bounds and thenoble steed reared high on his hind legs. Outlined by the clear bluesky the magnificent animal stood for one brief instant, his blackmane flying in the wind, his head thrown up and his front hoofspawing the air like Marcus Curtius' mailed steed of old, and thendown with a crash, a cloud of dust, and the crackling of pine limbs.A long yell went up from the Indians below, while those above ran tothe edge of the cliff. With cries of wonder and baffled vengeancethey gesticulated toward the dark ravine into which horse and riderhad plunged rather than wait to meet a more cruel death. Theprecipice at this point is over three hundred feet in height, and inplaces is almost perpendicular. We believed the Major to be lyingcrushed and mangled on the rocks. Imagine our frenzy of joy when wesaw the daring soldier and his horse dash out of the bushes thatskirt the base of the cliff, cross the creek, and come galloping tothe fort in safety."
"It was wonderful! Wonderful!" exclaimed Isaac, his eyes glistening."No wonder the Indians call you the 'Flying Chief.'"
"Had the Major not jumped into the clump of pine trees which growthickly some thirty feet below the summit he would not now bealive," said Colonel Zane. "I am certain of that. Nevertheless thatdoes not detract from the courage of his deed. He had no time topick out the best place to jump. He simply took his one chance, andcame out all right. That leap will live in the minds of men as longas yonder bluff stands a monument to McColloch's ride for life."
Alfred had listened with intense interest to the Colonel's recital.When it ended, although his pulses quickened and his soul expandedwith awe and reverence for the hero of that ride, he sat silent.Alfred honored courage in a man more than any other quality. Hemarvelled at the simplicity of these bordermen who, he thought, tookthe most wonderful adventures and daring escapes as a matter ofcourse, a compulsory part of their daily lives. He had already, inone day, had more excitement than had ever befallen him, and wasbeginning to believe his thirst for a free life of stirring actionwould be quenched long before he had learned to become useful in hisnew sphere. During the remaining half hour of his call on his latelyacquired friends, he took little part in the conversation, but satquietly watching the changeful expressions on Betty's face, andlistening to Colonel Zane's jokes. When he rose to go he bade hishost good-night, and expressed a wish that Isaac, who had fallenasleep, might have a speedy recovery. He turned toward the door tofind that Betty had intercepted him.
"Mr. Clarke," she said, extending a little hand that trembledslightly. "I wish to say--that--I want to say that my feelings havechanged. I am sorry for what I said over at Lydia's. I spoke hastilyand rudely. You have saved my brother's life. I will be forevergrateful to you. It is useless to try to thank you. I--I hope we maybe friends."
Alfred found it desperately hard to resist that low voice, and thosedark eyes which were raised shyly, yet bravely, to his. But he hadbeen deeply hurt. He pretended not to see the friendly hand held outto him, and his voice was cold when he answered her.
"I am glad to have been of some service," he said, "but I think youoverrate my action. Your brother would not have drowned, I am sure.You owe me nothing. Good-night."
Betty stood still one moment staring at the door through which hehad gone before she realized that her overtures of friendship hadbeen politely, but coldly, ignored. She had actually been snubbed.The impossible had happened to Elizabeth Zane. Her first sensationafter she recovered from her momentary bewilderment was one ofamusement, and she laughed in a constrained manner; but, presently,two bright red spots appeared in her cheeks, and she looked quicklyaround to see if any of the others had noticed the incident. None ofthem had been paying any attention to her and she breathed a sigh ofrelief. It was bad enough to be snubbed without having others seeit. That would have been too humiliating. Her eyes flashed fire asshe remembered the disdain in Clarke's face, and that she had notbeen clever enough to see it in time.
"Tige, come here!" called Colonel Zane. "What ails the dog?"
The dog had jumped to his feet and ran to the door, where he sniffedat the crack over the threshold. His aspect was fierce andthreatening. He uttered low growls and then two short barks. Thosein the room heard a soft moccasined footfall outside. The nextinstant the door opened wide and a tall figure stood disclosed.
"Wetzel!" exclaimed Colonel Zane. A hush fell on the little companyafter that exclamation, and all eyes were fastened on the new comer.
Well did the stranger merit close attention. He stalked into theroom, leaned his long rifle against the mantelpiece and spread outhis hands to the fire. He was clad from head to foot in fringed andbeaded buckskin, which showed evidence of a long and arduous tramp.It was torn and wet and covered with mud. He was a magnificentlymade man, six feet in height, and stood straight as an arrow. Hiswide shoulders, and his muscular, though not heavy, limbs denotedwonderful strength and activity. His long hair, black as a raven'swing, hung far down his shoulders. Presently he turned and the lightshone on a remarkable face. So calm and cold and stern it was thatit seemed chiselled out of marble. The most striking features wereits unusual pallor, and the eyes, which were coal black, andpiercing as the dagger's point.
"If you have any bad news out with it," cried Colonel Zane,impatiently.
"No need fer alarm," said Wetzel. He smiled slightly as he sawBetty's apprehensive face. "Don't look scared, Betty. The redskinsare miles away and goin' fer the Kanawha settlement."
