by Zane Grey
Chapter XIX.
One evening a week or more after the disappearance of Jim and thegirls, George Young and David Edwards, the missionaries, sat on thecabin steps, gazing disconsolately upon the forest scenery. Hard ashad been the ten years of their labor among the Indians, nothing hadshaken them as the loss of their young friends.
"Dave, I tell you your theory about seeing them again is absurd,"asserted George. "I'll never forget that wretch, Girty, as he spoketo Nell. Why, she just wilted like a flower blasted by fire. I can'tunderstand why he let me go, and kept Jim, unless the Shawnee hadsomething to do with it. I never wished until now that I was ahunter. I'd go after Girty. You've heard as well as I of his manyatrocities. I'd rather have seen Kate and Nell dead than have themfall into his power. I'd rather have killed them myself!"
Young had aged perceptibly in these last few days. The blue veinsshowed at his temples; his face had become thinner and paler, hiseyes had a look of pain. The former expression of patience, whichhad sat so well on him, was gone.
"George, I can't account for my fancies or feelings, else, perhaps,I'd be easier in mind," answered Dave. His face, too, showed theravages of grief. "I've had queer thoughts lately, and dreams suchas I never had before. Perhaps it's this trouble which has made meso nervous. I don't seem able to pull myself together. I can neitherpreach nor work."
"Neither can I! This trouble has hit you as hard as it has me. But,Dave, we've still our duty. To endure, to endure--that is our life.Because a beam of sunshine brightened, for a brief time, the gray ofour lives, and then faded away, we must not shirk nor grow sour anddiscontented."
"But how cruel is this border life!"
"Nature itself is brutal."
"Yes, I know, and we have elected to spend our lives here in themidst of this ceaseless strife, to fare poorly, to have no pleasure,never to feel the comfort of a woman's smiles, nor the joy of achild's caress, all because out in the woods are ten or twenty or ahundred savages we may convert."
"That is why, and it is enough. It is hard to give up the women youlove to a black-souled renegade, but that is not for my thought.What kills me is the horror for her--for her."
"I, too, suffer with that thought; more than that, I am morbid anddepressed. I feel as if some calamity awaited us here. I have neverbeen superstitious, nor have I had presentiments, but of late thereare strange fears in my mind."
At this juncture Mr. Wells and Heckewelder came out of the adjoiningcabin.
"I had word from a trustworthy runner to-day. Girty and his captiveshave not been seen in the Delaware towns," said Heckewelder.
"It is most unlikely that he will take them to the towns," repliedEdwards. "What do you make of his capturing Jim?"
"For Pipe, perhaps. The Delaware Wolf is snapping his teeth. Pipe isparticularly opposed to Christianity, and--what's that?"
A low whistle from the bushes near the creek bank attracted theattention of all. The younger men got up to investigate, butHeckewelder detained them.
"Wait," he added. "There is no telling what that signal may mean."
They waited with breathless interest. Presently the whistle wasrepeated, and an instant later the tall figure of a man stepped frombehind a thicket. He was a white man, but not recognizable at thatdistance, even if a friend. The stranger waved his hand as if askingthem to be cautious, and come to him.
They went toward the thicket, and when within a few paces of the manMr. Wells exclaimed:
"It's the man who guided my party to the village. It is Wetzel!"
The other missionaries had never seen the hunter though, of course,they were familiar with his name, and looked at him with greatcuriosity. The hunter's buckskin garments were wet, torn, andcovered with burrs. Dark spots, evidently blood stains, showed onhis hunting-shirt.
"Wetzel?" interrogated Heckewelder.
The hunter nodded, and took a step behind the bush. Bending over helifted something from the ground. It was a girl. It was Nell! Shewas very white--but alive. A faint, glad smile lighted up herfeatures.
Not a word was spoken. With an expression of tender compassion Mr.Wells received her into his arms. The four missionaries turnedfearful, questioning eyes upon the hunter, but they could not speak.
"She's well, an' unharmed," said Wetzel, reading their thoughts,"only worn out. I've carried her these ten miles."
"God bless you, Wetzel!" exclaimed the old missionary. "Nellie,Nellie, can you speak?"
"Uncle dear--I'm--all right," came the faint answer.
"Kate? What--of her?" whispered George Young with lips as dry ascorn husks.
"I did my best," said the hunter with a simple dignity. Nothing butthe agonized appeal in the young man's eyes could have made Wetzelspeak of his achievement.
"Tell us," broke in Heckewelder, seeing that fear had strickenGeorge dumb.
"We trailed 'em an' got away with the golden-haired lass. The last Isaw of Joe he was braced up agin a rock fightin' like a wildcat. Itried to cut Jim loose as I was goin' by. I s'pect the wust fer thebrothers an' the other lass."
"Can we do nothing?" asked Mr. Wells.
"Nothin'!"
"Wetzel, has the capturing of James Downs any significance to you?"inquired Heckewelder.
"I reckon so."
"What?"
"Pipe an' his white-redskin allies are agin Christianity."
"Do you think we are in danger?"
"I reckon so."
"What do you advise?"
"Pack up a few of your traps, take the lass, an' come with me. I'llsee you back in Fort Henry."
Heckewelder nervously walked up to the tree and back again. Youngand Edwards looked blankly at one another. They both rememberedEdward's presentiment. Mr. Wells uttered an angry exclamation.
"You ask us to fail in our duty? No, never! To go back to the whitesettlements and acknowledge we were afraid to continue teaching theGospel to the Indians! You can not understand Christianity if youadvise that. You have no religion. You are a killer of Indians."
A shadow that might have been one of pain flitted over the hunter'sface.
"No, I ain't a Christian, an' I am a killer of Injuns," said Wetzel,and his deep voice had a strange tremor. "I don't know nothin' much'cept the woods an' fields, an' if there's a God fer me He's outthar under the trees an' grass. Mr. Wells, you're the first man asever called me a coward, an' I overlook it because of your callin'.I advise you to go back to Fort Henry, because if you don't go nowthe chances are aginst your ever goin'. Christianity or noChristianity, such men as you hev no bisness in these woods."
"I thank you for your advice, and bless you for your rescue of thischild; but I can not leave my work, nor can I understand why allthis good work we have done should be called useless. We haveconverted Indians, saved their souls. Is that not being of some use,of some good here?"
"It's accordin' to how you look at it. Now I know the bark of an oakis different accordin' to the side we see from. I'll allow, hatin'Injuns as I do, is no reason you oughtn't to try an' convert 'em.But you're bringin' on a war. These Injuns won't allow this Villageof Peace here with its big fields of corn, an' shops an' workin'redskins. It's agin their nature. You're only sacrificin' yourChristian Injuns."
"What do you mean?" asked Mr. Wells, startled by Wetzel's words.
"Enough. I'm ready to guide you to Fort Henry."
"I'll never go."
Wetzel looked at the other men. No one would have doubted him. Noone could have failed to see he knew that some terrible angerhovered over the Village of Peace.
"I believe you, Wetzel, but I can not go," said Heckewelder, withwhite face.
"I will stay," said George, steadily.
"And I," said Dave.
Wetzel nodded, and turned to depart when George grasped his arm. Theyoung missionary's face was drawn and haggard; he fixed an intensegaze upon the hunter.
"Wetzel, listen;" his voice was low and shaken with deep feeling. "Iam a teacher of God's word, and I am as earnest in that purpose
asyou are in your life-work. I shall die here; I shall fill anunmarked grave; but I shall have done the best I could. This is thelife destiny has marked out for me, and I will live it as best Imay; but in this moment, preacher as I am, I would give all I haveor hope to have, all the little good I may have done, all my life,to be such a man as you. For I would avenge the woman I loved. Totorture, to kill Girty! I am only a poor, weak fellow who would belost a mile from this village, and if not, would fall before theyoungest brave. But you with your glorious strength, yourincomparable woodcraft, you are the man to kill Girty. Rid thefrontier of this fiend. Kill him! Wetzel, kill him! I beseech youfor the sake of some sweet girl who even now may be on her way tothis terrible country, and who may fall into Girty's power--for hersake, Wetzel, kill him. Trail him like a bloodhound, and when youfind him remember my broken heart, remember Nell, remember, oh, God!remember poor Kate!"
Young's voice broke into dry sobs. He had completely exhaustedhimself, so that he was forced to lean against the tree for support.
Wetzel spoke never a word. He stretched out his long, brawny arm andgripped the young missionary's shoulder. His fingers clasped hard.Simple, without words as the action was, it could not have been morepotent. And then, as he stood, the softer look faded slowly from hisface. A ripple seemed to run over his features, which froze, as itsubsided, into a cold, stone rigidity.
His arm dropped; he stepped past the tree, and, bounding lightly asa deer, cleared the creek and disappeared in the bushes.
Mr. Wells carried Nell to his cabin where she lay for hours with wanface and listless languor. She swallowed the nourishing drink an oldIndian nurse forced between her teeth; she even smiled weakly whenthe missionaries spoke to her; but she said nothing nor seemed torally from her terrible shock. A dark shadow lay always before her,conscious of nothing present, living over again her frightfulexperience. Again she seemed sunk in dull apathy.
"Dave, we're going to loose Nell. She's fading slowly," said George,one evening, several days after the girl's return. "Wetzel said shewas unharmed, yet she seems to have received a hurt more fatal thana physical one. It's her mind--her mind. If we cannot brighten herup to make her forget, she'll die."
"We've done all within our power. If she could only be brought outof this trance! She lies there all day long with those staring eyes.I can't look into them. They are the eyes of a child who has seenmurder."
"We must try in some way to get her out of this stupor, and I havean idea. Have you noticed that Mr. Wells has failed very much in thelast few weeks?"
"Indeed I have, and I'm afraid he's breaking down. He has grown sothin, eats very little, and doesn't sleep. He is old, you know, and,despite his zeal, this border life is telling on him."
"Dave, I believe he knows it. Poor, earnest old man! He never says aword about himself, yet he must know he is going down hill. Well, weall begin, sooner or later, that descent which ends in the grave. Ibelieve we might stir Nellie by telling her Mr. Wells' health isbreaking."
"Let us try."
A hurried knock on the door interrupted their conversation.
"Come in," said Edwards.
The door opened to admit a man, who entered eagerly.
"Jim! Jim!" exclaimed both missionaries, throwing themselves uponthe newcomer.
It was, indeed, Jim, but no answering smile lighted his worn,distressed face while he wrung his friends' hands.
"You're not hurt?" asked Dave.
"No, I'm uninjured."
"Tell us all. Did you escape? Did you see your brother? Did you knowWetzel rescued Nell?"
"Wingenund set me free in spite of many demands for my death. Hekept Joe a prisoner, and intends to kill him, for the lad wasWetzel's companion. I saw the hunter come into the glade where wecamped, break through the line of fighting Indians and carry Nelloff."
"Kate?" faltered Young, with ashen face.
"George, I wish to God I could tell you she is dead," answered Jim,nervously pacing the room. "But she was well when I last saw her.She endured the hard journey better than either Nell or I. Girty didnot carry her into the encampment, as Silvertip did Joe and me, butthe renegade left us on the outskirts of the Delaware town. Therewas a rocky ravine with dense undergrowth where he disappeared withhis captive. I suppose he has his den somewhere in that ravine."
George sank down and buried his face in his arms; neither movementnor sound betokened consciousness.
"Has Wetzel come in with Nell? Joe said he had a cave where he mighthave taken her in case of illness or accident."
"Yes, he brought her back," answered Edwards, slowly.
"I want to see her," said Jim, his haggard face expressing a keenanxiety. "She's not wounded? hurt? ill?"
"No, nothing like that. It's a shock which she can't get over, can'tforget."
"I must see her," cried Jim, moving toward the door.
"Don't go," replied Dave, detaining him. "Wait. We must see what'sbest to be done. Wait till Heckewelder comes. He'll be here soon.Nell thinks you're dead, and the surprise might be bad for her."
Heckewelder came in at that moment, and shook hands warmly with Jim.
"The Delaware runner told me you were here. I am overjoyed thatWingenund freed you," said the missionary. "It is a most favorablesign. I have heard rumors from Goshocking and Sandusky that haveworried me. This good news more than offsets the bad. I am sorryabout your brother. Are you well?"
"Well, but miserable. I want to see Nell. Dave tells me she is notexactly ill, but something is wrong with her. Perhaps I ought not tosee her just yet."
"It'll be exactly the tonic for her," replied Heckewelder. "She'llbe surprised out of herself. She is morbid, apathetic, and, try aswe may, we can't interest her. Come at once."
Heckewelder had taken Jim's arm and started for the door when hecaught sight of Young, sitting bowed and motionless. Turning to Jimhe whispered:
"Kate?"
"Girty did not take her into the encampment," answered Jim, in a lowvoice. "I hoped he would, because the Indians are kind, but hedidn't. He took her to his den."
Just then Young raised his face. The despair in it would have melteda heart of stone. It had become the face of an old man.
"If only you'd told me she had died," he said to Jim, "I'd have beenman enough to stand it, but--this--this kills me--I can't breathe!"
He staggered into the adjoining room, where he flung himself upon abed.
"It's hard, and he won't be able to stand up under it, for he's notstrong," whispered Jim.
Heckewelder was a mild, pious man, in whom no one would ever expectstrong passion; but now depths were stirred within his heart thathad ever been tranquil. He became livid, and his face was distortedwith rage.
"It's bad enough to have these renegades plotting and workingagainst our religion; to have them sow discontent, spread lies, makethe Indians think we have axes to grind, to plant the only obstaclein our path--all this is bad; but to doom an innocent white woman toworse than death! What can I call it!"
"What can we do?" asked Jim.
"Do? That's the worst of it. We can do nothing, nothing. We dare notmove."
"Is there no hope of getting Kate back?"
"Hope? None. That villain is surrounded by his savages. He'll lielow now for a while. I've heard of such deeds many a time, but itnever before came so close home. Kate Wells was a pure, lovingChristian woman. She'll live an hour, a day, a week, perhaps, inthat snake's clutches, and then she'll die. Thank God!"
"Wetzel has gone on Girty's trail. I know that from his manner whenhe left us," said Edwards.
"Wetzel may avenge her, but he can never save her. It's too late.Hello---"
The exclamation was called forth by the appearance of Young, whoentered with a rifle in his hands.
"George, where are you going with that gun?" asked Edwards, graspinghis friend by the arm.
"I'm going after her," answered George wildly. He tottered as hespoke, but wrenched himself free from Dave.
"Come, George
, listen, listen to reason," interposed Heckewelder,laying hold of Young. "You are frantic with grief now. So are all ofus. But calm yourself. Why, man, you're a preacher, not a hunter.You'd be lost, you'd starve in the woods before getting half way tothe Indian town. This is terrible enough; don't make it worse bythrowing your life away. Think of us, your friends; think of yourIndian pupils who rely so much on you. Think of the Village ofPeace. We can pray, but we can't prevent these border crimes. Withcivilization, with the spread of Christianity, they will pass away.Bear up under this blow for the sake of your work. Remember we alonecan check such barbarity. But we must not fight. We must sacrificeall that men hold dear, for the sake of the future."
He took the rifle away from George, and led him back into thelittle, dark room. Closing the door he turned to Jim and Dave.
"He is in a bad way, and we must carefully watch him for a fewdays."
"Think of George starting out to kill Girty!" exclaimed Dave. "Inever fired a gun, but yet I'd go too."
"So would we all, if we did as our hearts dictate," retortedHeckewelder, turning fiercely upon Dave as if stung. "Man! we have avillage full of Christians to look after. What would become of them?I tell you we've all we can do here to outwit these border ruffians.Simon Girty is plotting our ruin. I heard it to-day from theDelaware runner who is my friend. He is jealous of our influence,when all we desire is to save these poor Indians. And, Jim, Girtyhas killed our happiness. Can we ever recover from the miserybrought upon us by poor Kate's fate?"
The missionary raised his hand as if to exhort some power above.
"Curse the Girty's!" he exclaimed in a sudden burst ofuncontrollable passion. "Having conquered all other obstacles, mustwe fail because of wicked men of our own race? Oh, curse them!"
"Come," he said, presently, in a voice which trembled with theeffort he made to be calm. "We'll go in to Nellie."
The three men entered Mr. Wells' cabin. The old missionary, withbowed head and hands clasped behind his back, was pacing to and fro.He greeted Jim with glad surprise.
"We want Nellie to see him," whispered Heckewelder. "We think thesurprise will do her good."
"I trust it may," said Mr. Wells.
"Leave it to me."
They followed Heckewelder into an adjoining room. A torch flickeredover the rude mantle-shelf, lighting up the room with fitful flare.It was a warm night, and the soft breeze coming in the windowalternately paled and brightened the flame.
Jim saw Nell lying on the bed. Her eyes were closed, and her long,dark lashes seemed black against the marble paleness of her skin.
"Stand behind me," whispered Heckewelder to Jim.
"Nellie," he called softly, but only a faint flickering of herlashes answered him.
"Nellie, Nellie," repeated Heckewelder, his deep, strong voicethrilling.
Her eyes opened. They gazed at Mr. Wells on one side, at Edwardsstanding at the foot of the bed, at Heckewelder leaning over her,but there was no recognition or interest in her look.
"Nellie, can you understand me?" asked Heckewelder, putting into hisvoice all the power and intensity of feeling of which he wascapable.
An almost imperceptible shadow of understanding shone in her eyes.
"Listen. You have had a terrible shock, and it has affected yourmind. You are mistaken in what you think, what you dream of all thetime. Do you understand? You are wrong!"
Nell's eyes quickened with a puzzled, questioning doubt. Theminister's magnetic, penetrating voice had pierced her dulled brain.
"See, I have brought you Jim!"
Heckewelder stepped aside as Jim fell on his knees by the bed. Hetook her cold hands in his and bent over her. For the moment hisvoice failed.
The doubt in Nell's eyes changed to a wondrous gladness. It was likethe rekindling of a smoldering fire.
"Jim?" she whispered.
"Yes, Nellie, it's Jim alive and well. It's Jim come back to you."
A soft flush stained her white face. She slipped her arm tenderlyaround his neck, and held her cheek close to his.
"Jim," she murmured.
"Nellie, don't you know me?" asked Mr. Wells, trembling, excited.This was the first word she had spoken in four days.
"Uncle!" she exclaimed, suddenly loosening her hold on Jim, andsitting up in bed, then she gazed wildly at the others.
"Was it all a horrible dream?"
Mr. Wells took her hand soothingly, but he did not attempt to answerher question. He looked helplessly at Heckewelder, but thatmissionary was intently studying the expression on Nell's face.
"Part of it was a dream," he answered,impressively.
"Then that horrible man did take us away?"
"Yes."
"Oh-h! but we're free now? This is my room. Oh, tell me?"
"Yes, Nellie, you're safe at home now."
"Tell--tell me," she cried, shudderingly, as she leaned close to Jimand raised a white, imploring face to his. "Where is Kate?--Oh!Jim--say, say she wasn't left with Girty?"
"Kate is dead," answered Jim, quickly. He could not endure thehorror in her eyes. He deliberately intended to lie, as hadHeckewelder.
It was as if the tension of Nell's nerves was suddenly relaxed. Therelief from her worst fear was so great that her mind took in onlythe one impression. Then, presently, a choking cry escaped her, tobe followed by a paroxysm of sobs.
