by Zane Grey
Chapter IX.
Joe went to bed that night with a promise to himself to rise earlynext morning, for he had been invited to take part in a "raising,"which term meant that a new cabin was to be erected, and such taskwas ever an event in the lives of the settlers.
The following morning Joe rose early, dressing himself in a completebuckskin suit, for which he had exchanged his good garments ofcloth. Never before had he felt so comfortable. He wanted to hop,skip and jump. The soft, undressed buckskin was as warm and smoothas silk-plush; the weight so light, the moccasins so well-fittingand springy, that he had to put himself under considerable restraintto keep from capering about like a frolicsome colt.
The possession of this buckskin outfit, and the rifle andaccouterments which went with the bargain, marked the last stage inJoe's surrender to the border fever. The silent, shaded glens, themystery of the woods, the breath of this wild, free life claimed himfrom this moment entirely and forever.
He met the others, however, with a serene face, showing no trace ofthe emotion which welled up strongly from his heart. Nell glancedshyly at him; Kate playfully voiced her admiration; Jim met him witha brotherly ridicule which bespoke his affection as well as hisamusement; but Colonel Zane, having once yielded to the sameburning, riotous craving for freedom which now stirred in the boy'sheart, understood, and felt warmly drawn toward the lad. He saidnothing, though as he watched Joe his eyes were grave and kind. Inhis long frontier life, where many a day measured the life and fireof ordinary years, he had seen lad after lad go down before thisforest fever. It was well, he thought, because the freedom of thesoil depended on these wild, light-footed boys; yet it always madehim sad. How many youths, his brother among them, lay under thefragrant pine-needle carpet of the forest, in their last earthlysleep!
The "raising" brought out all the settlement--the women to look onand gossip, while the children played; the men to bend their backsin the moving of the heavy timbers. They celebrated the erection ofa new cabin as a noteworthy event. As a social function it had aprominent place in the settlers' short list of pleasures.
Joe watched the proceeding with the same pleasure and surprise hehad felt in everything pertaining to border life.
To him this log-raising appeared the hardest kind of labor. Yet itwas plain these hardy men, these low-voiced women, and merrychildren regarded the work as something far more significant thanthe mere building of a cabin. After a while he understood themeaning of the scene. A kindred spirit, the spirit of the pioneer,drew them all into one large family. This was another cabin; anotherhome; another advance toward the conquering of the wilderness, forwhich these brave men and women were giving their lives. In thebright-eyed children's glee, when they clapped their little hands atthe mounting logs, Joe saw the progress, the march of civilization.
"Well, I'm sorry you're to leave us to-night," remarked Colonel Zaneto Joe, as the young man came over to where he, his wife, and sisterwatched the work. "Jonathan said all was ready for your departure atsundown."
"Do we travel by night?"
"Indeed, yes, my lad. There are Indians everywhere on the river. Ithink, however, with Jack and Lew handling the paddles, you willslip by safely. The plan is to keep along the south shore all night;then cross over at a place called Girty's Point, where you are toremain in hiding during daylight. From there you paddle up YellowCreek; then portage across country to the head of the Tuscarwawas.Another night's journey will then bring you to the Village ofPeace."
Jim and Mr. Wells, with his nieces, joined the party now, and allstood watching as the last logs were put in place.
"Colonel Zane, my first log-raising is an education to me," said theyoung minister, in his earnest manner. "This scene is so full oflife. I never saw such goodwill among laboring men. Look at thatbrawny-armed giant standing on the topmost log. How he whistles ashe swings his ax! Mr. Wells, does it not impress you?"
"The pioneers must be brothers because of their isolation and peril;to be brothers means to love one another; to love one another is tolove God. What you see in this fraternity is God. And I want to seethis same beautiful feeling among the Indians."
"I have seen it," said Colonel Zane, to the old missionary. "When Icame out here alone twelve years ago the Indians were peaceable. Ifthe pioneers had paid for land, as I paid Cornplanter, there wouldnever have been a border war. But no; the settlers must grasp everyacre they could. Then the Indians rebelled; then the Girtys andtheir allies spread discontent, and now the border is a bloodywarpath."
"Have the Jesuit missionaries accomplished anything with these wartribes?" inquired Jim.
"No; their work has been chiefly among the Indians near Detroit andnorthward. The Hurons, Delawares, Shawnees and other western tribeshave been demoralized by the French traders' rum, and incited tofierce hatred by Girty and his renegades. Your work at Gnaddenhuttenmust be among these hostile tribes, and it is surely a hazardousundertaking."
"My life is God's," murmured the old minister. No fear could assailhis steadfast faith.
"Jim, it strikes me you'd be more likely to impress these IndiansColonel Zane spoke of if you'd get a suit like mine and wear a knifeand tomahawk," interposed Joe, cheerfully. "Then, if you couldn'tconvert, you could scalp them."
"Well, well, let us hope for the best," said Colonel Zane, when thelaughter had subsided. "We'll go over to dinner now. Come, all ofyou. Jonathan, bring Wetzel. Betty, make him come, if you can."
As the party slowly wended its way toward the colonel's cabin Jimand Nell found themselves side by side. They had not exchanged aword since the evening previous, when Jim had kissed her. Unable tolook at each other now, and finding speech difficult, they walked inembarrassed silence.
"Doesn't Joe look splendid in his hunting suit?" asked Jim,presently.
"I hadn't noticed. Yes; he looks well," replied Nell, carelessly.She was too indifferent to be natural.
"Are you angry with him?"
"Certainly not."
Jim was always simple and frank in his relations with women. He hadnone of his brother's fluency of speech, with neither confidence,boldness nor understanding of the intricate mazes of a woman'smoods.
"But--you are angry with--me?" he whispered.
Nell flushed to her temples, yet she did not raise her eyes norreply.
"It was a terrible thing for me to do," went on Jim, hesitatingly."I don't know why I took advantage--of--of your mistaking me forJoe. If you only hadn't held up your mouth. No--I don't meanthat--of course you didn't. But--well, I couldn't help it. I'mguilty. I have thought of little else. Some wonderful feeling haspossessed me ever since--since---"
"What has Joe been saying about me?" demanded Nell, her eyes burninglike opals.
"Why, hardly anything," answered Jim, haltingly. "I took him to taskabout--about what I considered might be wrong to you. Joe has neverbeen very careful of young ladies' feelings, and I thought--well, itwas none of my business. He said he honestly cared for you, that youhad taught him how unworthy he was of a good woman. But he's wrongthere. Joe is wild and reckless, yet his heart is a well of gold. Heis a diamond in the rough. Just now he is possessed by wild notionsof hunting Indians and roaming through the forests; but he'll comeround all right. I wish I could tell you how much he has done forme, how much I love him, how I know him! He can be made worthy ofany woman. He will outgrow this fiery, daring spirit, andthen--won't you help him?"
"I will, if he will let me," softly whispered Nell, irresistiblydrawn by the strong, earnest love thrilling in his voice.
