the spirit of the border-第40章

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his　design。　Joe　was　upon　him　with　tigerlike　suddenness。　One　kick　sent　the

tomahawk　spinning；　another　landed　the　Shawnee　again　on　the　ground。　Blind　with

rage；　Silvertip　leaped　up；　and　without　a　weapon　rushed　at　his　antagonist；　but

the　Indian　was　not　a　boxer；　and　he　failed　to　get　his　hands　on　Joe。　Shifty　and

elusive；　the　lad　dodged　around　the　struggling　savage。　One；　two；　three　hard

blows　staggered　Silvertip；　and　a　fourth；　delivered　with　the　force　of　Joe's

powerful　arm；　caught　the　Indian　when　he　was　off　his　balance；　and　felled　him；

battered　and　bloody；　on　the　grass。　The　surrounding　Indians　looked　down　at　the

vanquished　Shawnee；　expressing　their　approval　in　characteristic　grunts。



With　Lance　prancing　proudly；　and　Mose　leaping　lovingly　beside　him；　Joe　walked

back　to　his　lodge。　Whispering　Winds　sprang　to　meet　him　with　joyful　face。　She

had　feared　the　outcome　of　trouble　with　the　Shawnee；　but　no　queen　ever　bestowed

upon　returning　victorious　lord　a　loftier　look　of　pride；　a　sweeter　glance　of

love；　than　the　Indian　maiden　bent　upon　her　lover。



Whispering　Winds　informed　Joe　that　an　important　council　was　to　be　held　that

afternoon。　It　would　be　wise　for　them　to　make　the　attempt　to　get　away

immediately　after　the　convening　of　the　chiefs。　Accordingly　she　got　upon　Lance

and　rode　him　up　and　down　the　village　lane；　much　to　the　pleasure　of　the

watching　Indians。　She　scattered　the　idle　crowds　on　the　grass　plots；　she　dashed

through　the　side　streets；　and　let　every　one　in　the　encampment　see　her　clinging

to　the　black　stallion。　Then　she　rode　him　out　along　the　creek。　Accustomed　to

her　imperious　will；　the　Indians　thought　nothing　unusual。　When　she　returned　an

hour　later；　with　flying　hair　and　disheveled　costume；　no　one　paid　particular

attention　to　her。



That　afternoon　Joe　and　his　bride　were　the　favored　of　fortune。　With　Mose

running　before　them；　they　got　clear　of　the　encampment　and　into　the　woods。　

Once　in　the　forest　Whispering　Winds　rapidly　led　the　way　east。　When　they

climbed　to　the　top　of　a　rocky　ridge　she　pointed　down　into　a　thicket　before

her；　saying　that　somewhere　in　this　dense　hollow　was　Girty's　hut。　Joe　hesitated

about　taking　Mose。　He　wanted　the　dog；　but　in　case　he　had　to　run　it　was

necessary　Whispering　Winds　should　find　his　trail；　and　for　this　he　left　the　dog

with　her。



He　started　down　the　ridge；　and　had　not　gone　a　hundred　paces　when　over　some

gray　boulders　he　saw　the　thatched　roof　of　a　hut。　So　wild　and　secluded　was　the

spot；　that　he　would　never　have　discovered　the　cabin　from　any　other　point　than

this；　which　he　had　been　so　fortunate　as　to　find。



His　study　and　practice　under　Wetzel　now　stood　him　in　good　stead。　He　picked　out

the　best　path　over　the　rough　stones　and　through　the　brambles；　always　keeping

under　cover。　He　stepped　as　carefully　as　if　the　hunter　was　behind　him。　Soon　he

reached　level　ground。　A　dense　laurel　thicket　hid　the　cabin；　but　he　knew　the

direction　in　which　it　lay。　Throwing　himself　flat　on　the　ground；　he　wormed　his

way　through　the　thicket；　carefully；　yet　swiftly；　because　he　knew　there　was　no

time　to　lose。　Finally　the　rear　of　the　cabin　stood　in　front　of　him。



It　was　made　of　logs；　rudely　hewn；　and　as　rudely　thrown　together。　In　several

places　clay　had　fallen　from　chinks　between　the　timbers；　leaving　small　holes。

Like　a　snake　Joe　slipped　close　to　the　hut。　Raising　his　head　he　looked　through

one　of　the　cracks。



Instantly　he　shrank　back　into　the　grass；　shivering　with　horror。　He　almost

choked　in　his　attempt　to　prevent　an　outcry。







Chapter　XVIII。



The　sight　which　Joe　had　seen　horrified　him；　for　several　moments；　into　helpless

inaction。　He　lay　breathing　heavily；　impotent；　in　an　awful　rage。　　As　he

remained　there　stunned　by　the　shock；　he　gazed　up　through　the　open　space　in　the

leaves；　trying　to　still　his　fury；　to　realize　the　situation；　to　make　no　hasty

move。　The　soft　blue　of　the　sky；　the　fleecy　clouds　drifting　eastward；　the

fluttering　leaves　and　the　twittering　birdsall　assured　him　he　was　wide　awake。

He　had　found　Girty's　den　where　so　many　white　women　had　been　hidden；　to　see

friends　and　home　no　more。　He　had　seen　the　renegade　sleeping；　calmly　sleeping

like　any　other　man。　How　could　the　wretch　sleep！　He　had　seen　Kate。　It　had　been

the　sight　of　her　that　had　paralyzed　him。　To　make　a　certainty　of　his　fears；　he

again　raised　himself　to　peep　into　the　hole。　As　he　did　so　a　faint　cry　came　from

within。



Girty　lay　on　a　buffalo　robe　near　a　barred　door。　Beyond　him　sat　Kate；　huddled

in　one　corner　of　the　cabin。　A　long　buckskin　thong　was　knotted　round　her　waist；

and　tied　to　a　log。　Her　hair　was　matted　and　tangled；　and　on　her　face　and　arms

were　many　discolored　bruises。　Worse　still；　in　her　plaintive　moaning；　in　the

meaningless　movement　of　her　head；　in　her　vacant　expression；　was　proof　that　her

mind　had　gone。　She　was　mad。　Even　as　an　agonizing　pity　came　over　Joe；　to　be

followed　by　the　surging　fire　of　rage；　blazing　up　in　his　breast；　he　could　not

but　thank　God　that　she　was　mad！　It　was　merciful　that　Kate　was　no　longer

conscious　of　her　suffering。



Like　leaves　in　a　storm　wavered　Joe's　hands　as　he　clenched　them　until　the　nails

brought　blood。　〃Be　calm；　be　cool；〃　whispered　his　monitor；　Wetzel；　ever　with

him　in　spirit。　But　God！　Could　he　be　cool？　Bounding　with　lion…spring　he　hurled

his　heavy　frame　against　the　door。



Crash！　The　door　was　burst　from　its　fastenings。



Girty　leaped　up　with　startled　yell；　drawing　his　knife　as　he　rose。　It　had　not

time　to　descend　before　Joe's　second　spring；　more　fierce　even　than　the　other；

carried　him　directly　on　top　of　the　renegade。　As　the　two　went　down　Joe　caught

the　villain's　wrist　with　a　grip　that　literally　cracked　the　bones。　The　knife

fell　and　rolled　away　from　the　struggling　men。　For　an　instant　they　tumbled

about　on　the　floor；　clasped　in　a　crushing　embrace。　　The　renegade　was　strong；

supple；　slippery　as　an　eel。　Twice　he　wriggled　from　his　foe。　Gnashing　his

teeth；　he　fought　like　a　hyena。　He　was　fighting　for　lifelife；　which　is　never

so　dear　as　to　a　coward　and　a　murderer。　　Doom　glared　from　Joe's　big　eyes；　and

scream　after　scream　issued　from　the　renegade's　white　lips。



Terrible　was　this　struggle；　but　brief。　Joe　seemingly　had　the　strength　of　ten

men。　Twice　he　pulled　Girty　down　as　a　wolf　drags　a　deer。　He　dashed　him　against

the　wall；　throwing　him　nearing　and　nearer　the　knife。　Once　within　reach　of　the

blade　Joe　struck　the　renegade　a　severe　blow　on　the　temple　and　the　villain's

wrestling　became　weaker。　Planting　his　heavy　knee　on　Girty's　breast；　Joe

reached　for　the　knife；　and　swung　it　high。　Exultantly　he　cried；　mad　with　lust

for　the　brute's　blood。



But　the　slight　delay　saved　Girty's　life。



The　knife　was　knocked　from　Joe's　hand　and　he　leaped　erect　to　find　himself

confronted　by　Silvertip。　The　chief　held　a　tomahawk　with　which　he　had　struck

the　weapon　from　the　young　man's　grasp；　and；　to　judge　from　his　burning　eyes　and

malignant　smile；　he　meant　to　brain　the　now　defenseless　paleface。



In　a　single　fleeting　instant　Joe　saw　that　Girty　was　helpless　for　the　moment；

that　Silvertip　was　confident　of　his　revenge；　and　that　the　situation　called　for

Wetzel's　characteristic　advice；　〃act　like　lightnin'。〃



Swifter　than　the　thought　was　the　leap　he　made　past　Silvertip。　It　carried　him

to　a　wooden　bar　which　lay　on　the　floor。　Escape　was　easy；　for　the　door　was

before　him　and　the　Shawnee　behind；　but　Joe　did　not　flee！　He　seized　the　bar　and

rushed　at　the　Indian。　Then　began　a　duel　in　which　the　savage's　quickness　and

cunning　matched　the　white　man's　strength　and　fury。　　Silvertip　dodged　the

vicious　swings　Joe　aimed　at　him；　he　parried　many　blows；　any　one　of　which　would

have　crushed　his　skull。　Nimble　as　a　cat；　he　avoided　every　rush；　while　his　dark

eyes　watched　for　an　opening。　He　fought　wholly　on　the　defensive；　craftily

reserving　his　strength　until　his　opponent　should　tire。



At　last；　catching　the　bar　on　his　hatchet；　he　broke　the　force　of　the　blow；　and

then；　with　agile　movement；　dropped　to　the　ground　and　grappled　Joe's　legs。　Long