by Zane Grey
CHAPTER XV.
Peace and quiet reigned ones more at Ft. Henry. Before the gloriousautumn days had waned, the settlers had repaired the damage done totheir cabins, and many of them were now occupied with the fallplowing. Never had the Fort experienced such busy days. Many newfaces were seen in the little meeting-house. Pioneers from Virginia,from Ft. Pitt, and eastward had learned that Fort Henry had repulsedthe biggest force of Indians and soldiers that Governor Hamilton andhis minions could muster. Settlers from all points along the riverwere flocking to Col. Zane's settlement. New cabins dotted thehillside; cabins and barns in all stages of construction could beseen. The sounds of hammers, the ringing stroke of the axe, and thecrashing down of mighty pines or poplars were heard all day long.
Col. Zane sat oftener and longer than ever before in his favoriteseat on his doorstep. On this evening he had just returned from ahard day in the fields, and sat down to rest a moment before goingto supper. A few days previous Isaac Zane and Myeerah had come tothe settlement. Myeerah brought a treaty of peace signed by Tarheand the other Wyandot chieftains. The once implacable Huron was nowready to be friendly with the white people. Col. Zane and hisbrothers signed the treaty, and Betty, by dint of much persuasion,prevailed on Wetzel to bury the hatchet with the Hurons. SoMyeerah's love, like the love of many other women, accomplished morethan years of war and bloodshed.
The genial and happy smile never left Col. Zane's face, and as hesaw the well-laden rafts coming down the river, and the air ofliveliness and animation about the growing settlement, his smilebroadened into one of pride and satisfaction. The prophecy that hehad made twelve years before was fulfilled. His dream was realized.The wild, beautiful spot where he had once built a bark shack andcamped half a year without seeing a white man was now the scene of abustling settlement; and he believed he would live to see thatsettlement grow into a prosperous city. He did not think of thethousands of acres which would one day make him a wealthy man. Hewas a pioneer at heart; he had opened up that rich new country; hehad conquered all obstacles, and that was enough to make himcontent.
"Papa, when shall I be big enough to fight bars and bufflers andInjuns?" asked Noah, stopping in his play and straddling hisfather's knee.
"My boy, did you not have Indians enough a short time ago?"
"But, papa, I did not get to see any. I heard the shooting andyelling. Sammy was afraid, but I wasn't. I wanted to look out of thelittle holes, but they locked us up in the dark room."
"If that boy ever grows up to be like Jonathan or Wetzel it will bethe death of me," said the Colonel's wife, who had heard the lad'schatter.
"Don't worry, Bessie. When Noah grows to be a man the Indians willbe gone."
Col. Zane heard the galloping of a horse and looking up saw Clarkecoming down the road on his black thoroughbred. The Colonel rose andwalked out to the hitching-block, where Clarke had reined in hisfiery steed.
"Ah, Alfred. Been out for a ride?"
"Yes, I have been giving Roger a little exercise."
"That's a magnificent animal. I never get tired watching him move.He's the best bit of horseflesh on the river. By the way, we havenot seen much of you since the siege. Of course you have been busy.Getting ready to put on the harness, eh? Well, that's what we wantthe young men to do. Come over and see us."
"I have been trying to come. You know how it is with me--aboutBetty, I mean. Col. Zane, I--I love her. That's all."
"Yes, I know, Alfred, and I don't wonder at your fears. But I havealways liked you, and now I guess it's about time for me to put aspoke in your wheel of fortune. If Betty cares for you--and I have asneaking idea she does--I will give her to you."
"I have nothing. I gave up everything when I left home."
"My lad, never mind about that," said the Colonel, laying his handon Clarke's knee. "We don't need riches. I have so often said thatwe need nothing out here on the border but honest hearts and strong,willing hands. These you have. That is enough for me and for mypeople, and as for land, why, I have enough for an army of youngmen. I got my land cheap. That whole island there I bought fromCornplanter. You can have that island or any tract of land along theriver. Some day I shall put you at the head of my men. It will takeyou years to cut that road through to Maysville. Oh, I have plentyof work for you."
"Col. Zane, I cannot thank you," answered Alfred, with emotion. "Ishall try to merit your friendship and esteem. Will you please tellyour sister I shall come over in the morning and beg to see heralone."
"That I will, Alfred. Goodnight."
Col. Zane strode across his threshold with a happy smile on hisface. He loved to joke and tease, and never lost an opportunity.
"Things seem to be working out all right. Now for some fun with HerHighness," he said to himself.
As the Colonel surveyed the pleasant home scene he felt he hadnothing more to wish for. The youngsters were playing with a shaggylittle pup which had already taken Tige's place in their fickleaffections. His wife was crooning a lullaby as she gently rocked thecradle to and fro. A wonderful mite of humanity peacefully slumberedin that old cradle. Annie was beginning to set the table for theevening meal. Isaac lay with a contented smile on his face, fastasleep on the couch, where, only a short time before, he had beenlaid bleeding and almost dead. Betty was reading to Myeerah, whoseeyes were rapturously bright as she leaned her head against hersister and listened to the low voice.
"Well, Betty, what do you think?" said Col. Zane, stopping beforethe girls.
"What do I think?" retorted Betty. "Why, I think you are very rudeto interrupt me. I am reading to Myeerah her first novel."
"I have a very important message for you."
"For me? What! From whom?"
"Guess."
Betty ran through a list of most of her acquaintances, but aftereach name her brother shook his head.
"Oh, well, I don't care," she finally said. The color in her cheekshad heightened noticeably.
"Very well. If you do not care, I will say nothing more," said Col.Zane.
At this juncture Annie called them to supper. Later, when Col. Zanesat on the doorstep smoking, Betty came and sat beside him with herhead resting against his shoulder. The Colonel smoked on in silence.Presently the dusky head moved restlessly.
"Eb, tell me the message," whispered Betty.
"Message? What message?" asked Col. Zone. "What are you talkingabout?"
"Do not tease--not now. Tell me." There was an undercurrent ofwistfulness in Betty's voice which touched the kindhearted brother.
"Well, to-day a certain young man asked me if he could relieve me ofthe responsibility of looking after a certain young lady."
"Oh----"
"Wait a moment. I told him I would be delighted."
"Eb, that was unkind."
"Then he asked me to tell her he was coming over to-morrow morningto fix it up with her."
"Oh, horrible!" cried Betty. "Were those the words he used?"
"Betts, to tell the honest truth, he did not say much of anything.He just said: 'I love her,' and his eyes blazed."
Betty uttered a half articulate cry and ran to her room. Her heartwas throbbing. What could she do? She felt that if she looked onceinto her lover's eyes she would have no strength. How dared sheallow herself to be so weak! Yet she knew this was the end. Shecould deceive him no longer. For she felt a stir in her heart,stronger than all, beyond all resistance, an exquisite agony, thesweet, blind, tumultuous exultation of the woman who loves and isloved.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Bess, what do you think?" said Col. Zane, going into the kitchennext morning, after he had returned from the pasture. "Clarke justcame over and asked for Betty. I called her. She came down lookingas sweet and cool as one of the lilies out by the spring. She said:'Why, Mr. Clarke, you are almost a stranger. I am pleased to seeyou. Indeed, we are all very glad to know you have recovered fromyour severe burns.' She went on talking like that for all the worldlike a girl who didn't care a snap for h
im. And she knows as well asI do. Not only that, she has been actually breaking her heart overhim all these months. How did she do it? Oh, you women beat me allhollow!"
"Would you expect Betty to fall into his arms?" asked the Colonel'sworthy spouse, indignantly.
"Not exactly. But she was too cool, too friendly. Poor Alfred lookedas if he hadn't slept. He was nervous and scared to death. WhenBetty ran up stairs I put a bug in Alfred's ear. He'll be all rightnow, if he follows my advice."
"Humph! What did Colonel Ebenezer Zane tell him?" asked Bessie, indisgust.
"Oh, not much. I simply told him not to lose his nerve; that a womannever meant 'no'; that she often says it only to be made say 'yes.'And I ended up with telling him if she got a little skittish, asthoroughbreds do sometimes, to try a strong arm. That was my way."
"Col. Zane, if my memory does not fail me, you were as humble andbeseeching as the proudest girl could desire."
"I beseeching? Never!"
"I hope Alfred's wooing may go well. I like him very much. But I'mafraid. Betty has such a spirit that it is quite likely she willrefuse him for no other reason than that he built his cabin beforehe asked her."
"Nonsense. He asked her long ago. Never fear, Bess, my sister willcome back as meek as a lamb."
Meanwhile Betty and Alfred were strolling down the familiar pathtoward the river. The October air was fresh with a suspicion offrost. The clear notes of a hunter's horn came floating down fromthe hills. A flock of wild geese had alighted on the marshy groundat the end of the island where they kept up a continual honk! honk!The brown hills, the red forest, and the yellow fields were now atthe height of their autumnal beauty. Soon the November north windwould thrash the trees bare, and bow the proud heads of the daisiesand the goldenrod; but just now they flashed in the sun, and swayedback and forth in all their glory.
"I see you limp. Are you not entirely well?" Betty was saying.
"Oh, I am getting along famously, thank you," said Alfred. "This onefoot was quite severely burned and is still tender."
"You have had your share of injuries. I heard my brother say you hadbeen wounded three times within a year."
"Four times."
"Jonathan told of the axe wound; then the wound Miller gave you, andfinally the burns. These make three, do they not?"
"Yes, but you see, all three could not be compared to the one youforgot to mention."
"Let us hurry past here," said Betty, hastening to change thesubject. "This is where you had the dreadful fight with Miller."
"As Miller did go to meet Girty, and as he did not return to theFort with the renegade, we must believe he is dead. Of course, we donot know this to be actually a fact. But something makes me thinkso. Jonathan and Wetzel have not said anything; I can't get anysatisfaction on that score from either; but I am sure neither ofthem would rest until Miller was dead."
"I think you are right. But we may never know. All I can tell you isthat Wetzel and Jack trailed Miller to the river, and then they bothcame back. I was the last to see Lewis that night before he left onMiller's trail. It isn't likely I shall forget what Lewis said andhow he looked. Miller was a wicked man; yes, a traitor."
"He was a bad man, and he nearly succeeded in every one of hisplans. I have not the slightest doubt that had he refrained fromtaking part in the shooting match he would have succeeded inabducting you, in killing me, and in leading Girty here long beforehe was expected."
"There are many things that may never be explained, but one thingMiller did always mystify us. How did he succeed in binding Tige?"
"To my way of thinking that was not so difficult as climbing into myroom and almost killing me, or stealing the powder from Capt. Boggs'room."
"The last, at least, gave me a chance to help," said Betty, with atouch of her odd roguishness.
"That was the grandest thing a woman ever did," said Alfred, in alow tone.
"Oh, no, I only ran fast."
"I would have given the world to have seen you, but I was lying onthe bench wishing I were dead. I did not have strength to look outof a porthole. Oh! that horrible time! I can never forget it. I lieawake at night and hear the yelling and shooting. Then I dream ofrunning over the burning roofs and it all comes back so vividly Ican almost feel the flames and smell the burnt wood. Then I wake upand think of that awful moment when you were carried into theblockhouse white, and, as I thought, dead."
"But I wasn't. And I think it best for us to forget that horriblesiege. It is past. It is a miracle that any one was spared. Ebenezersays we should not grieve for those who are gone; they were heroic;they saved the Fort. He says too, that we shall never again betroubled by Indians. Therefore let us forget and be happy. I haveforgotten Miller. You can afford to do the same."
"Yes, I forgive him." Then, after a long silence, Alfred continued,"Will you go down to the old sycamore?"
Down the winding path they went. Coming to a steep place in therocky bank Alfred jumped down and then turned to help Betty. But sheavoided his gaze, pretended to not see his outstretched hands, andleaped lightly down beside him. He looked at her with perplexity andanxiety in his eyes. Before he could speak she ran on ahead of himand climbed down the bank to the pool. He followed slowly,thoughtfully. The supreme moment had come. He knew it, and somehowhe did not feel the confidence the Colonel had inspired in him. Ithad been easy for him to think of subduing this imperious younglady; but when the time came to assert his will he found he couldnot remember what he had intended to say, and his feelings weredivided between his love for her and the horrible fear that heshould lose her.
When he reached the sycamore tree he found her sitting behind itwith a cluster of yellow daisies in her lap. Alfred gazed at her,conscious that all his hopes of happiness were dependent on the nextfew words that would issue from her smiling lips. The little brownhands, which were now rather nervously arranging the flowers, heldmore than his life.
"Are they not sweet?" asked Betty, giving him a fleeting glance. "Wecall them 'black-eyed Susans.' Could anything be lovelier than thatsoft, dark brown?"
"Yes," answered Alfred, looking into her eyes.
"But--but you are not looking at my daisies at all," said Betty,lowering her eyes.
"No, I am not," said Alfred. Then suddenly: "A year ago this veryday we were here."
"Here? Oh, yes, I believe I do remember. It was the day we came inmy canoe and had such fine fishing."
"Is that all you remember?"
"I can recollect nothing in particular. It was so long ago."
"I suppose you will say you had no idea why I wanted you to come tothis spot in particular."
"I supposed you simply wanted to take a walk, and it is verypleasant here."
"Then Col. Zane did not tell you?" demanded Alfred. Receiving noreply he went on.
"Did you read my letter?"
"What letter?"
"The letter old Sam should have given you last fall. Did you readit?"
"Yes," answered Betty, faintly.
"Did your brother tell you I wanted to see you this morning?"
"Yes, he told me, and it made me very angry," said Betty, raisingher head. There was a bright red spot in each cheek. "You--youseemed to think you--that I--well--I did not like it."
"I think I understand; but you are entirely wrong. I have neverthought you cared for me. My wildest dreams never left me anyconfidence. Col. Zane and Wetzel both had some deluded notion thatyou cared--"
"But they had no right to say that or to think it," said Betty,passionately. She sprang to her feet, scattering the daisies overthe grass. "For them to presume that I cared for you is absurd. Inever gave them any reason to think so, for--for I--I don't."
"Very well, then, there is nothing more to be said," answeredAlfred, in a voice that was calm and slightly cold. "I'm sorry ifyou have been annoyed. I have been mad, of course, but I promise youthat you need fear no further annoyance from me. Come, I think weshould return to the house."
And he turned and walked slo
wly up the path. He had taken perhaps adozen steps when she called him.
"Mr. Clarke, come back."
Alfred retraced his steps and stood before her again. Then he saw adifferent Betty. The haughty poise had disappeared. Her head wasbowed. Her little hands were tightly pressed over a throbbing bosom.
"Well," said Alfred, after a moment.
"Why--why are you in such a hurry to go?"
"I have learned what I wanted to know. And after that I do notimagine I would be very agreeable. I am going back. Are you coming?"
"I did not mean quite what I said," whispered Betty.
"Then what did you mean?" asked Alfred, in a stern voice.
"I don't know. Please don't speak so."
"Betty, forgive my harshness. Can you expect a man to feel as I doand remain calm? You know I love you. You must not trifle anylonger. You must not fight any longer."
"But I can't help fighting."
"Look at me," said Alfred, taking her hands. "Let me see your eyes.I believe you care a little for me, or else you wouldn't have calledme back. I love you. Can you understand that?"
"Yes, I can; and I think you should love me a great deal to make upfor what you made me suffer."
"Betty, look at me."
Slowly she raised her head and lifted the downcast eyes. Thosetelltale traitors no longer hid her secret. With a glad cry Alfredcaught her in his arms. She tried to hide her face, but he got hishand under her chin and held it firmly so that the sweet crimsonlips were very near his own. Then he slowly bent his head.
Betty saw his intention, closed her eyes and whispered.
"Alfred, please don't--it's not fair--I beg of you--Oh!"
That kiss was Betty's undoing. She uttered a strange little cry.Then her dark head found a hiding place over his heart, and herslender form, which a moment before had resisted so fiercely, sankyielding into his embrace.
"Betty, do you dare tell me now that you do not care for me?" Alfredwhispered into the dusky hair which rippled over his breast.
Betty was brave even in her surrender. Her hands moved slowly upwardalong his arms, slipped over his shoulders, and clasped round hisneck. Then she lifted a flushed and tearstained face with tremulouslips and wonderful shining eyes.
"Alfred, I do love you--with my whole heart I love you. I never knewuntil now."
The hours flew apace. The prolonged ringing of the dinner bellbrought the lovers back to earth, and to the realization that theworld held others than themselves. Slowly they climbed the familiarpath, but this time as never before. They walked hand in hand. Fromthe blur they looked back. They wanted to make sure they were notdreaming. The water rushed over the fall more musically than everbefore; the white patches of foam floated round and round the shadypool; the leaves of the sycamore rustled cheerily in the breeze. Ona dead branch a wood-pecker hammered industriously.
"Before we get out of sight of that dear old tree I want to make aconfession," said Betty, as she stood before Alfred. She was pullingat the fringe on his hunting-coat.
"You need not make confessions to me."
"But this was dreadful; it preys on my conscience."
"Very well, I will be your judge. Your punishment shall be slight."
"One day when you were lying unconscious from your wound, Bessiesent me to watch you. I nursed you for hours; and--and--do not thinkbadly of me--I--I kissed you."
"My darling," cried the enraptured young man.
When they at last reached the house they found Col. Zane on thedoorstep.
"Where on earth have you been?" he said. "Wetzel was here. He saidhe would not wait to see you. There he goes up the hill. He isbehind that laurel."
They looked and presently saw the tall figure of the hunter emergefrom the bushes. He stopped and leaned on his rifle. For a minute heremained motionless. Then he waved his hand and plunged into thethicket. Betty sighed and Alfred said:
"Poor Wetzel! ever restless, ever roaming."
"Hello, there!" exclaimed a gay voice. The lovers turned to see thesmiling face of Isaac, and over his shoulder Myeerah's happy facebeaming on them. "Alfred, you are a lucky dog. You can thank Myeerahand me for this; because if I had not taken to the river and nearlydrowned myself to give you that opportunity you would not wear thathappy face to-day. Blush away, Betts, it becomes you mightily."
"Bessie, here they are!" cried Col. Zane, in his hearty voice. "Sheis tamed at last. No excuses, Alfred, in to dinner you go."
Col. Zane pushed the young people up the steps before him, andstopping on the threshold while he knocked the ashes from his pipe,he smiled contentedly.
