ZANE GREY

The Last Trail

MCMIX

CHAPTER I

Twilight of a certain summer day, many years ago, shaded softly downover the wild Ohio valley bringing keen anxiety to a traveler on thelonely river trail. He had expected to reach Fort Henry with his partyon this night, thus putting a welcome end to the long, rough, hazardous journey through the wilderness; but the swift, on-comingdusk made it imperative to halt. The narrow, forest-skirted trail, difficult to follow in broad daylight, apparently led into gloomyaisles in the woods. His guide had abandoned him that morning, makingexcuse that his services were no longer needed; his teamster was newto the frontier, and, altogether, the situation caused him muchuneasiness. 

"I wouldn't so much mind another night in camp, if the guide had notleft us, " he said in a low tone to the teamster. 

That worthy shook his shaggy head, and growled while he beganunhitching the horses. 

"Uncle, " said a young man, who had clambered out from the wagon, "wemust be within a few miles of Fort Henry. "

"How d'ye know we're near the fort?" interrupted the teamster, "orsafe, either, fer thet matter? I don't know this country. "

"The guide assured me we could easily make Fort Henry by sundown. "

"Thet guide! I tell ye, Mr. Sheppard----"

"Not so loud. Do not alarm my daughter, " cautioned the man who hadbeen called Sheppard. 

"Did ye notice anythin' queer about thet guide?" asked the teamster, lowering his voice. "Did ye see how oneasy he was last night? Did itstrike ye he left us in a hurry, kind of excited like, in spite of hisoffhand manner?"

"Yes, he acted odd, or so it seemed to me, " replied Sheppard. "Howabout you, Will?"

"Now that I think of it, I believe he was queer. He behaved like a manwho expected somebody, or feared something might happen. I fancied, however, that it was simply the manner of a woodsman. "

"Wal, I hev my opinion, " said the teamster, in a gruff whisper. "Yewas in a hurry to be a-goin', an' wouldn't take no advice. Thefur-trader at Fort Pitt didn't give this guide Jenks no good send off. Said he wasn't well-known round Pitt, 'cept he could handle aknife some. "

"What is your opinion?" asked Sheppard, as the teamster paused. 

"Wal, the valley below Pitt is full of renegades, outlaws an'hoss-thieves. The redskins ain't so bad as they used to be, but thesewhite fellers are wusser'n ever. This guide Jenks might be in withthem, that's all. Mebbe I'm wrong. I hope so. The way he left uslooks bad. "

"We won't borrow trouble. If we have come all this way without seeingeither Indian or outlaw--in fact, without incident--I feel certain wecan perform the remainder of the journey in safety. " Then Mr. Sheppardraised his voice. "Here, Helen, you lazy girl, come out of that wagon. We want some supper. Will, you gather some firewood, and we'll soongive this gloomy little glen a more cheerful aspect. "

As Mr. Sheppard turned toward the canvas-covered wagon a girl leapedlightly down beside him. She was nearly as tall as he. 

"Is this Fort Henry?" she asked, cheerily, beginning to dance aroundhim. "Where's the inn? I'm _so_ hungry. How glad I am to get out ofthat wagon! I'd like to run. Isn't this a lonesome, lovely spot?"

A camp-fire soon crackled with hiss and sputter, and fragrantwood-smoke filled the air. Steaming kettle, and savory steaks ofvenison cheered the hungry travelers, making them forget for the timethe desertion of their guide and the fact that they might be lost. Thelast glow faded entirely out of the western sky. Night enveloped theforest, and the little glade was a bright spot in the gloom. 

The flickering light showed Mr. Sheppard to be a well-preserved oldman with gray hair and ruddy, kindly face. The nephew had a boyish, frank expression. The girl was a splendid specimen of womanhood. Herlarge, laughing eyes were as dark as the shadows beneath the trees. 

Suddenly a quick start on Helen's part interrupted the merry flow ofconversation. She sat bolt upright with half-averted face. 

"Cousin, what is the matter?" asked Will, quickly. 

Helen remained motionless. 

"My dear, " said Mr. Sheppard sharply. 

"I heard a footstep, " she whispered, pointing with trembling fingertoward the impenetrable blackness beyond the camp-fire. 

All could hear a soft patter on the leaves. Then distinct footfallsbroke the silence. 

The tired teamster raised his shaggy head and glanced fearfully aroundthe glade. Mr. Sheppard and Will gazed doubtfully toward the foliage;but Helen did not change her position. The travelers appeared strickenby the silence and solitude of the place. The faint hum of insects, and the low moan of the night wind, seemed accentuated by the almostpainful stillness. 

"A panther, most likely, " suggested Sheppard, in a voice which heintended should be reassuring. "I saw one to-day slinking alongthe trail. "

"I'd better get my gun from the wagon, " said Will. 

"How dark and wild it is here!" exclaimed Helen nervously. "I believeI was frightened. Perhaps I fancied it--there! Again--listen. Ah!"

Two tall figures emerged from the darkness into the circle of light, and with swift, supple steps gained the camp-fire before any of thetravelers had time to move. They were Indians, and the brandishing oftheir tomahawks proclaimed that they were hostile. 

"Ugh!" grunted the taller savage, as he looked down upon thedefenseless, frightened group. 

As the menacing figures stood in the glare of the fire gazing at theparty with shifty eyes, they presented a frightful appearance. Fiercelineaments, all the more so because of bars of paint, the hideous, shaven heads adorned with tufts of hair holding a single feather, sinewy, copper-colored limbs suggestive of action and endurance, thegeneral aspect of untamed ferocity, appalled the travelers and chilledtheir blood. 

Grunts and chuckles manifested the satisfaction with which the Indiansfell upon the half-finished supper. They caused it to vanish withastonishing celerity, and resembled wolves rather than human beings intheir greediness. 

Helen looked timidly around as if hoping to see those who would aid, and the savages regarded her with ill humor. A movement on the part ofany member of the group caused muscular hands to steal toward thetomahawks. 

Suddenly the larger savage clutched his companion's knee. Then liftinghis hatchet, shook it with a significant gesture in Sheppard's face, at the same time putting a finger on his lips to enjoin silence. BothIndians became statuesque in their immobility. They crouched in anattitude of listening, with heads bent on one side, nostrils dilated, and mouths open. 

One, two, three moments passed. The silence of the forest appeared tobe unbroken; but ears as keen as those of a deer had detected somesound. The larger savage dropped noiselessly to the ground, where helay stretched out with his ear to the ground. The other remainedimmovable; only his beady eyes gave signs of life, and these coveredevery point. 

Finally the big savage rose silently, pointed down the dark trail, andstrode out of the circle of light. His companion followed close at hisheels. The two disappeared in the black shadows like specters, assilently as they had come. 

"Well!" breathed Helen. 

"I am immensely relieved!" exclaimed Will. 

"What do you make of such strange behavior?" Sheppard asked of theteamster. 

"I'spect they got wind of somebody; most likely thet guide, an'll beback again. If they ain't, it's because they got switched off by somesigns or tokens, skeered, perhaps, by the scent of the wind. "

Hardly had he ceased speaking when again the circle of light wasinvaded by stalking forms. 

"I thought so! Here comes the skulkin' varmints, " whispered theteamster. 

But he was wrong. A deep, calm voice spoke the single word: "Friends. "

Two men in the brown garb of woodsmen approached. One approached thetravelers; the other remained in the background, leaning upon a long, black rifle. 

Thus exposed to the glare of the flames, the foremost woodsmanpresented a singularly picturesque figure. His costume was the fringedbuckskins of the border. Fully six feet tall, this lithe-limbed younggiant had something of the wild, free grace of the Indian inhis posture. 

He surveyed the wondering travelers with dark, grave eyes. 

"Did the reddys do any mischief?" he asked. 

"No, they didn't harm us, " replied Sheppard. "They ate our supper, and slipped off into the woods without so much as touching one of us. But, indeed, sir, we are mighty glad to see you. "

Will echoed this sentiment, and Helen's big eyes were fastened uponthe stranger in welcome and wonder. 

"We saw your fire blazin' through the twilight, an' came up just intime to see the Injuns make off. "

"Might they not hide in the bushes and shoot us?" asked Will, who hadlistened to many a border story at Fort Pitt. "It seems as if we'dmake good targets in this light. "

The gravity of the woodsman's face relaxed. 

"You will pursue them?" asked Helen. 

"They've melted into the night-shadows long ago, " he replied. "Who wasyour guide?"

"I hired him at Fort Pitt. He left us suddenly this morning. A bigman, with black beard and bushy eyebrows. A bit of his ear had beenshot or cut out, " Sheppard replied. 

"Jenks, one of Bing Legget's border-hawks. "

"You have his name right. And who may Bing Legget be?"

"He's an outlaw. Jenks has been tryin' to lead you into a trap. Likelyhe expected those Injuns to show up a day or two ago. Somethin' wentwrong with the plan, I reckon. Mebbe he was waitin' for five Shawnees, an' mebbe he'll never see three of 'em again. "

Something suggestive, cold, and grim, in the last words did not escapethe listeners. 

"How far are we from Fort Henry?" asked Sheppard. 

"Eighteen miles as a crow flies; longer by trail. "

"Treachery!" exclaimed the old man. "We were no more than that thismorning. It is indeed fortunate that you found us. I take it you arefrom Fort Henry, and will guide us there? I am an old friend ofColonel Zane's. He will appreciate any kindness you may show us. Ofcourse you know him?"

"I am Jonathan Zane. "

Sheppard suddenly realized that he was facing the most celebratedscout on the border. In Revolutionary times Zane's fame had extendedeven to the far Atlantic Colonies. 

"And your companion?" asked Sheppard with keen interest. He guessedwhat might be told. Border lore coupled Jonathan Zane with a strangeand terrible character, a border Nemesis, a mysterious, shadowy, elusive man, whom few pioneers ever saw, but of whom all knew. 

"Wetzel, " answered Zane. 

With one accord the travelers gazed curiously at Zane's silentcompanion. In the dim background of the glow cast by the fire, hestood a gigantic figure, dark, quiet, and yet with somethingintangible in his shadowy outline. 

Suddenly he appeared to merge into the gloom as if he really were aphantom. A warning, "Hist!" came from the bushes. 

With one swift kick Zane scattered the camp-fire. 

The travelers waited with bated breaths. They could hear nothing savethe beating of their own hearts; they could not even see each other. 

"Better go to sleep, " came in Zane's calm voice. What a relief it was!"We'll keep watch, an' at daybreak guide you to Fort Henry. "

CHAPTER II

Colonel Zane, a rugged, stalwart pioneer, with a strong, dark face, sat listening to his old friend's dramatic story. At its close agenial smile twinkled in his fine dark eyes. 

"Well, well, Sheppard, no doubt it was a thrilling adventure to you, "he said. "It might have been a little more interesting, and doubtlesswould, had I not sent Wetzel and Jonathan to look you up. "

"You did? How on earth did you know I was on the border? I countedmuch on the surprise I should give you. "

"My Indian runners leave Fort Pitt ahead of any travelers, andacquaint me with particulars. "

"I remembered a fleet-looking Indian who seemed to be asking forinformation about us, when we arrived at Fort Pitt. I am sorry I didnot take the fur-trader's advice in regard to the guide. But I was insuch a hurry to come, and didn't feel able to bear the expense of araft or boat that we might come by river. My nephew broughtconsiderable gold, and I all my earthly possessions. "

"All's well that ends well, " replied Colonel Zane cheerily. "But wemust thank Providence that Wetzel and Jonathan came up in the nickof time. "

"Indeed, yes. I'm not likely to forget those fierce savages. How theyslipped off into the darkness! I wonder if Wetzel pursued them? Hedisappeared last night, and we did not see him again. In fact wehardly had a fair look at him. I question if I should recognize himnow, unless by his great stature. "

"He was ahead of Jonathan on the trail. That is Wetzel's way. In timesof danger he is seldom seen, yet is always near. But come, let us goout and look around. I am running up a log cabin which will come inhandy for you. "

They passed out into the shade of pine and maples. A winding path leddown a gentle slope. On the hillside under a spreading tree a throngof bearded pioneers, clad in faded buckskins and wearing white-ringedcoonskin caps, were erecting a log cabin. 

"Life here on the border is keen, hard, invigorating, " said ColonelZane. "I tell you, George Sheppard, in spite of your gray hair andyour pretty daughter, you have come out West because you want to liveamong men who do things. "

"Colonel, I won't gainsay I've still got hot blood, " replied Sheppard;"but I came to Fort Henry for land. My old home in Williamsburg hasfallen into ruin together with the fortunes of my family. I brought mydaughter and my nephew because I wanted them to take root innew soil. "

"Well, George, right glad we are to have you. Where are your sons? Iremember them, though 'tis sixteen long years since I left oldWilliamsburg. "

"Gone. The Revolution took my sons. Helen is the last of the family. "

"Well, well, indeed that's hard. Independence has cost you colonistsas big a price as border-freedom has us pioneers. Come, old friend, forget the past. A new life begins for you here, and it will be onewhich gives you much. See, up goes a cabin; that will soon beyour home. "

Sheppard's eye marked the sturdy pioneers and a fast diminishing pileof white-oak logs. 

"Ho-heave!" cried a brawny foreman. 

A dozen stout shoulders sagged beneath a well-trimmed log. 

"Ho-heave!" yelled the foreman. 

"See, up she goes, " cried the colonel, "and to-morrow night she'llshed rain. "

They walked down a sandy lane bounded on the right by a wide, greenclearing, and on the left by a line of chestnuts and maples, outpostsof the thick forests beyond. 

"Yours is a fine site for a house, " observed Sheppard, taking in theclean-trimmed field that extended up the hillside, a brook thatsplashed clear and noisy over the stones to tarry in a littlegrass-bound lake which forced water through half-hollowed logs into aspring house. 

"I think so; this is the fourth time I've put up a' cabin on thisland, " replied the colonel. 

"How's that?"

"The redskins are keen to burn things. "

Sheppard laughed at the pioneer's reply. "It's not difficult, ColonelZane, to understand why Fort Henry has stood all these years, with youas its leader. Certainly the location for your cabin is the finest inthe settlement. What a view!"

High upon a bluff overhanging the majestic, slow-winding Ohio, thecolonel's cabin afforded a commanding position from which to view thepicturesque valley. Sheppard's eye first caught the outline of thehuge, bold, time-blackened fort which frowned protectingly oversurrounding log-cabins; then he saw the wide-sweeping river with itsverdant islands, golden, sandy bars, and willow-bordered shores, whilebeyond, rolling pastures of wavy grass merging into green forests thatswept upward with slow swell until lost in the dim purple of distantmountains. 

"Sixteen years ago I came out of the thicket upon yonder bluff, andsaw this valley. I was deeply impressed by its beauty, but more by itswonderful promise. "

"Were you alone?"

"I and my dog. There had been a few white men before me on the river;but I was the first to see this glorious valley from the bluff. Now, George, I'll let you have a hundred acres of well-cleared land. Thesoil is so rich you can raise two crops in one season. With somestock, and a few good hands, you'll soon be a busy man. "

"I didn't expect so much land; I can't well afford to pay for it. "

"Talk to me of payment when the farm yields an income. Is this youngnephew of yours strong and willing?"

"He is, and has gold enough to buy a big farm. "

"Let him keep his money, and make a comfortable home for some goodlass. We marry our young people early out here. And your daughter, George, is she fitted for this hard border life?"

"Never fear for Helen. "

"The brunt of this pioneer work falls on our women. God bless them, how heroic they've been! The life here is rough for a man, let alone awoman. But it is a man's game. We need girls, girls who will bearstrong men. Yet I am always saddened when I see one come out onthe border. "

"I think I knew what I was bringing Helen to, and she didn't flinch, "said Sheppard, somewhat surprised at the tone in which thecolonel spoke. 

"No one knows until he has lived on the border. Well, well, all thisis discouraging to you. Ah! here is Miss Helen with my sister. "

The colonel's fine, dark face lost its sternness, and brightened witha smile. 

"I hope you rested well after your long ride. "

"I am seldom tired, and I have been made most comfortable. I thank youand your sister, " replied the girl, giving Colonel Zane her hand, andincluding both him and his sister in her grateful glance. 

The colonel's sister was a slender, handsome young woman, whose darkbeauty showed to most effective advantage by the contrast with hercompanion's fair skin, golden hair, and blue eyes. 

Beautiful as was Helen Sheppard, it was her eyes that held ColonelZane irresistibly. They were unusually large, of a dark purple-bluethat changed, shaded, shadowed with her every thought. 

"Come, let us walk, " Colonel Zane said abruptly, and, with Mr. Sheppard, followed the girls down the path. He escorted them to thefort, showed a long room with little squares cut in the rough-hewnlogs, many bullet holes, fire-charred timbers, and dark stains, terribly suggestive of the pain and heroism which the defense of thatrude structure had cost. 

Under Helen's eager questioning Colonel Zane yielded to his weaknessfor story-telling, and recited the history of the last siege of FortHenry; how the renegade Girty swooped down upon the settlement withhundreds of Indians and British soldiers; how for three days ofwhistling bullets, flaming arrows, screeching demons, fire, smoke, andattack following attack, the brave defenders stood at their posts, there to die before yielding. 

"Grand!" breathed Helen, and her eyes glowed. "It was then Betty Zaneran with the powder? Oh! I've heard the story. "

"Let my sister tell you of that, " said the colonel, smiling. 

"You! Was it you?" And Helen's eyes glowed brighter with the light ofyouth's glory in great deeds. 

"My sister has been wedded and widowed since then, " said Colonel Zane, reading in Helen's earnest scrutiny of his sister's calm, sad face awonder if this quiet woman could be the fearless and famedElizabeth Zane. 

Impulsively Helen's hand closed softly over her companion's. Out ofthe girlish sympathetic action a warm friendship was born. 

"I imagine things do happen here, " said Mr. Sheppard, hoping to hearmore from Colonel Zane. 

The colonel smiled grimly. 

"Every summer during fifteen years has been a bloody one on theborder. The sieges of Fort Henry, and Crawford's defeat, the biggestthings we ever knew out here, are matters of history; of course youare familiar with them. But the numberless Indian forays and attacks, the women who have been carried into captivity by renegades, themurdered farmers, in fact, ceaseless war never long directed at anypoint, but carried on the entire length of the river, are mattersknown only to the pioneers. Within five miles of Fort Henry I can showyou where the laurel bushes grow three feet high over the ashes of twosettlements, and many a clearing where some unfortunate pioneer hadstaked his claim and thrown up a log cabin, only to die fighting forhis wife and children. Between here and Fort Pitt there is only onesettlement, Yellow Creek, and most of its inhabitants are survivors ofabandoned villages farther up the river. Last summer we had theMoravian Massacre, the blackest, most inhuman deed ever committed. Since then Simon Girty and his bloody redskins have lain low. "

"You must always have had a big force, " said Sheppard. 

"We've managed always to be strong enough, though there never were alarge number of men here. During the last siege I had only forty inthe fort, counting men, women and boys. But I had pioneers and womenwho could handle a rifle, and the best bordermen on the frontier. "

"Do you make a distinction between pioneers and bordermen?" askedSheppard. 

"Indeed, yes. I am a pioneer; a borderman is an Indian hunter, orscout. For years my cabins housed Andrew Zane, Sam and John McCollock, Bill Metzar, and John and Martin Wetzel, all of whom are dead. Not onesaved his scalp. Fort Henry is growing; it has pioneers, rivermen, soldiers, but only two bordermen. Wetzel and Jonathan are the onlyones we have left of those great men. "

"They must be old, " mused Helen, with a dreamy glow still in her eyes. 

"Well, Miss Helen, not in years, as you mean. Life here is old inexperience; few pioneers, and no bordermen, live to a great age. Wetzel is about forty, and my brother Jonathan still a young man; butboth are old in border lore. "

Earnestly, as a man who loves his subject, Colonel Zane told hislisteners of these two most prominent characters of the border. Sixteen years previously, when but boys in years, they had cast intheir lot with his, and journeyed over the Virginian Mountains, Wetzelto devote his life to the vengeful calling he had chosen, and Jonathanto give rein to an adventurous spirit and love of the wilds. By somewonderful chance, by cunning, woodcraft, or daring, both men had livedthrough the years of border warfare which had brought to a close thecareers of all their contemporaries. 

For many years Wetzel preferred solitude to companionship; he roamedthe wilderness in pursuit of Indians, his life-long foes, and seldomappeared at the settlement except to bring news of an intended raid ofthe savages. Jonathan also spent much time alone in the woods, orscouting along the river. But of late years a friendship had ripenedbetween the two bordermen. Mutual interest had brought them togetheron the trail of a noted renegade, and when, after many long days ofpatient watching and persistent tracking, the outlaw paid an awfulpenalty for his bloody deeds, these lone and silent men were friends. 

Powerful in build, fleet as deer, fearless and tireless, Wetzel'speculiar bloodhound sagacity, ferocity, and implacability, balanced byJonathan's keen intelligence and judgment caused these bordermen tobecome the bane of redmen and renegades. Their fame increased witheach succeeding summer, until now the people of the settlement lookedupon wonderful deeds of strength and of woodcraft as a matter ofcourse, rejoicing in the power and skill with which these menwere endowed. 

By common consent the pioneers attributed any mysterious deed, fromthe finding of a fat turkey on a cabin doorstep, to the discovery of asavage scalped and pulled from his ambush near a settler's spring, toWetzel and Jonathan. All the more did they feel sure of thisconclusion because the bordermen never spoke of their deeds. Sometimesa pioneer living on the outskirts of the settlement would be awakenedin the morning by a single rifle shot, and on peering out would see adead Indian lying almost across his doorstep, while beyond, in thedim, gray mist, a tall figure stealing away. Often in the twilight ona summer evening, while fondling his children and enjoying his smokeafter a hard day's labor in the fields, this same settler would seethe tall, dark figure of Jonathan Zane step noiselessly out of athicket, and learn that he must take his family and flee at once tothe fort for safety. When a settler was murdered, his children carriedinto captivity by Indians, and the wife given over to the power ofsome brutal renegade, tragedies wofully frequent on the border, Wetzeland Jonathan took the trail alone. Many a white woman was returnedalive and, sometimes, unharmed to her relatives; more than one maidenlived to be captured, rescued, and returned to her lover, while almostnumberless were the bones of brutal redmen lying in the deep andgloomy woods, or bleaching on the plains, silent, ghastly reminders ofthe stern justice meted out by these two heroes. 

"Such are my two bordermen, Miss Sheppard. The fort there, and allthese cabins, would be only black ashes, save for them, and as for us, our wives and children--God only knows. "

"Haven't they wives and children, too?" asked Helen. 

"No, " answered Colonel Zane, with his genial smile. "Such joys are notfor bordermen. "

"Why not? Fine men like them deserve happiness, " declared Helen. 

"It is necessary we have such, " said the colonel simply, "and theycannot be bordermen unless free as the air blows. Wetzel and Jonathanhave never had sweethearts. I believe Wetzel loved a lass once; but hewas an Indian-killer whose hands were red with blood. He silenced hisheart, and kept to his chosen, lonely life. Jonathan does not seem torealize that women exist to charm, to please, to be loved and married. Once we twitted him about his brothers doing their duty by the border, whereupon he flashed out: 'My life is the border's: my sweetheart isthe North Star!'"

Helen dreamily watched the dancing, dimpling waves that broke on thestones of the river shore. All unconscious of the powerful impressionthe colonel's recital had made upon her, she was feeling the greatnessof the lives of these bordermen, and the glory it would now be for herto share with others the pride in their protection. 

"Say, Sheppard, look here, " said Colonel Zane, on the return to hiscabin, "that girl of yours has a pair of eyes. I can't forget the waythey flashed! They'll cause more trouble here among my garrison thanwould a swarm of redskins. "

"No! You don't mean it! Out here in this wilderness?" queried Shepparddoubtfully. 

"Well, I do. "

"O Lord! What a time I've had with that girl! There was one manespecially, back home, who made our lives miserable. He was rich andwell born; but Helen would have none of him. He got around me, oldfool that I am! Practically stole what was left of my estate, andgambled it away when Helen said she'd die before giving herself tohim. It was partly on his account that I brought her away. Then therewere a lot of moon-eyed beggars after her all the time, and she'syoung and full of fire. I hoped I'd marry her to some farmer out here, and end my days in peace. "

"Peace? With eyes like those? Never on this green earth, " and ColonelZane laughed as he slapped his friend on the shoulder. "Don't worry, old fellow. You can't help her having those changing dark-blue eyesany more than you can help being proud of them. They have won me, already, susceptible old backwoodsman! I'll help you with thisspirited young lady. I've had experience, Sheppard, and don't youforget it. First, my sister, a Zane all through, which is sayingenough. Then as sweet and fiery a little Indian princess as everstepped in a beaded moccasin, and since, more than one beautiful, impulsive creature. Being in authority, I suppose it's natural thatall the work, from keeping the garrison ready against an attack, tostraightening out love affairs, should fall upon me. I'll take thecare off your shoulders; I'll keep these young dare-devils fromkilling each other over Miss Helen's favors. I certainly--Hello! Thereare strangers at the gate. Something's up. "

Half a dozen rough-looking men had appeared from round the corner ofthe cabin, and halted at the gate. 

"Bill Elsing, and some of his men from Yellow Creek, " said ColonelZane, as he went toward the group. 

"Hullo, Kurnel, " was the greeting of the foremost, evidently theleader. "We've lost six head of hosses over our way, an' are outlookin' 'em up. "

"The deuce you have! Say, this horse-stealing business is gettinginteresting. What did you come in for?"

"Wal, we meets Jonathan on the ridge about sunup, an' he sent us backlickety-cut. Said he had two of the hosses corralled, an' mebbe Wetzelcould git the others. "

"That's strange, " replied Colonel Zane thoughtfully. 

"'Pears to me Jack and Wetzel hev some redskins treed, an' didn't wantus to spile the fun. Mebbe there wasn't scalps enough to go round. Anyway, we come in, an' we'll hang up here to-day. "

"Bill, who's doing this horse-stealing?"

"Damn if I know. It's a mighty pert piece of work. I've a mind it'ssome slick white fellar, with Injuns backin' him. "

Helen noted, when she was once more indoors, that Colonel Zane's wifeappeared worried. Her usual placid expression was gone. She put offthe playful overtures of her two bright boys with unusualindifference, and turned to her husband with anxious questioning as towhether the strangers brought news of Indians. Upon being assured thatsuch was not the case, she looked relieved, and explained to Helenthat she had seen armed men come so often to consult the colonelregarding dangerous missions and expeditions, that the sight of astranger caused her unspeakable dread. 

"I am accustomed to danger, yet I can never control my fears for myhusband and children, " said Mrs. Zane. "The older I grow the more of acoward I am. Oh! this border life is sad for women. Only a littlewhile ago my brother Samuel McColloch was shot and scalped right hereon the river bank. He was going to the spring for a bucket of water. Ilost another brother in almost the same way. Every day during thesummer a husband and a father fall victim to some murderous Indian. Myhusband will go in the same way some day. The border claims them all. "

"Bessie, you must not show your fears to our new friend. And, MissHelen, don't believe she's the coward she would make out, " said thecolonel's sister smilingly. 

"Betty is right, Bess, don't frighten her, " said Colonel Zane. "I'mafraid I talked too much to-day. But, Miss Helen, you were sointerested, and are such a good listener, that I couldn't refrain. Once for all let me say that you will no doubt see stirring life here;but there is little danger of its affecting you. To be sure I thinkyou'll have troubles; but not with Indians or outlaws. "

He winked at his wife and sister. At first Helen did not understandhis sally, but then she blushed red all over her fair face. 

Some time after that, while unpacking her belongings, she heard theclatter of horses' hoofs on the rocky road, accompanied by loudvoices. Running to the window, she saw a group of men at the gate. 

"Miss Sheppard, will you come out?" called Colonel Zane's sister fromthe door. "My brother Jonathan has returned. "

Helen joined Betty at the door, and looked over her shoulder. 

"Wal, Jack, ye got two on 'em, anyways, " drawled a voice which sherecognized as that of Elsing's. 

A man, lithe and supple, slipped from the back of one of the horses, and, giving the halter to Elsing with a single word, turned andentered the gate. Colonel Zane met him there. 

"Well, Jonathan, what's up?"

"There's hell to pay, " was the reply, and the speaker's voice rangclear and sharp. 

Colonel Zane laid his hand on his brother's shoulder, and thus theystood for a moment, singularly alike, and yet the sturdy pioneer was, somehow, far different from the dark-haired borderman. 

"I thought we'd trouble in store from the look on your face, " said thecolonel calmly. "I hope you haven't very bad news on the first day, for our old friends from Virginia. "

"Jonathan, " cried Betty when he did not answer the colonel. At hercall he half turned, and his dark eyes, steady, strained like those ofa watching deer, sought his sister's face. 

"Betty, old Jake Lane was murdered by horse thieves yesterday, andMabel Lane is gone. "

"Oh!" gasped Betty; but she said nothing more. 

Colonel Zane cursed inaudibly. 

"You know, Eb, I tried to keep Lane in the settlement for Mabel'ssake. But he wanted to work that farm. I believe horse-stealing wasn'tas much of an object as the girl. Pretty women are bad for the border, or any other place, I guess. Wetzel has taken the trail, and I came inbecause I've serious suspicions--I'll explain to you alone. "

The borderman bowed gravely to Helen, with a natural grace, and yet amanner that sat awkwardly upon him. The girl, slightly flushed, andsomewhat confused by this meeting with the man around whom herromantic imagination had already woven a story, stood in the doorwayafter giving him a fleeting glance, the fairest, sweetest picture ofgirlish beauty ever seen. 

The men went into the house; but their voices came distinctly throughthe door. 

"Eb, if Bing Legget or Girty ever see that big-eyed lass, they'll haveher even if Fort Henry has to be burned, an' in case they do get her, Wetzel an' I'll have taken our last trail. "

CHAPTER III

Supper over, Colonel Zane led his guests to a side porch, where theywere soon joined by Mrs. Zane and Betty. The host's two boys, Noah andSammy, who had preceded them, were now astride the porch-rail and, tojudge by their antics, were riding wild Indian mustangs. 

"It's quite cool, " said Colonel Zane; "but I want you to see thesunset in the valley. A good many of your future neighbors may comeover to-night for a word of welcome. It's the border custom. "

He was about to seat himself by the side of Mr. Sheppard, on a rusticbench, when a Negro maid appeared in the doorway carrying a smiling, black-eyed baby. Colonel Zane took the child and, holding it aloft, said with fatherly pride:

"This is Rebecca Zane, the first girl baby born to the Zanes, anddestined to be the belle of the border. "

"May I have her?" asked Helen softly, holding out her arms. She tookthe child, and placed it upon her knee where its look of solemnitysoon changed to one of infantile delight. 

"Here come Nell and Jim, " said Mrs. Zane, pointing toward the fort. 

"Yes, and there comes my brother Silas with his wife, too, " addedColonel Zane. "The first couple are James Douns, our young minister, and Nell, his wife. They came out here a year or so ago. James had abrother Joe, the finest young fellow who ever caught the border fever. He was killed by one of the Girtys. His was a wonderful story, andsome day you shall hear about the parson and his wife. "

"What's the border fever?" asked Mr. Sheppard. 

"It's what brought you out here, " replied Colonel Zane with a heartylaugh. 

Helen gazed with interest at the couple now coming into the yard, andwhen they gained the porch she saw that the man was big and tall, witha frank, manly bearing, while his wife was a slender little woman withbright, sunny hair, and a sweet, smiling face. They greeted Helen andher father cordially. 

Next came Silas Zane, a typical bronzed and bearded pioneer, with hisbuxom wife. Presently a little group of villagers joined the party. They were rugged men, clad in faded buckskins, and sober-faced womenwho wore dresses of plain gray linsey. They welcomed the newcomerswith simple, homely courtesy. Then six young frontiersmen appearedfrom around a corner of the cabin, advancing hesitatingly. To Helenthey all looked alike, tall, awkward, with brown faces and big hands. When Colonel Zane cheerily cried out to them, they stumbled forwardwith evident embarrassment, each literally crushing Helen's hand inhis horny palm. Afterward they leaned on the rail and stole glancesat her. 

Soon a large number of villagers were on the porch or in the yard. After paying their respects to Helen and her father they took part ina general conversation. Two or three girls, the latest callers, weresurrounded by half a dozen young fellows, and their laughter soundedhigh above the hum of voices. 

Helen gazed upon this company with mingled feelings of relief andpleasure. She had been more concerned regarding the young people withwhom her lot might be cast, than the dangers of which others had told. She knew that on the border there was no distinction of rank. Thoughshe came of an old family, and, during her girlhood, had beensurrounded by refinement, even luxury, she had accepted cheerfully thereverses of fortune, and was determined to curb the pride which hadbeen hers. It was necessary she should have friends. Warm-hearted, impulsive and loving, she needed to have around her those in whom shecould confide. Therefore it was with sincere pleasure she understoodhow groundless were her fears and knew that if she did not find good, true friends the fault would be her own. She saw at a glance that thecolonel's widowed sister was her equal, perhaps her superior, ineducation and breeding, while Nellie Douns was as well-bred andgracious a little lady as she had ever met. Then, the other girls, too, were charming, with frank wholesomeness and freedom. 

Concerning the young men, of whom there were about a dozen, Helen hadhardly arrived at a conclusion. She liked the ruggedness, the signs ofhonest worth which clung to them. Despite her youth, she had been muchsought after because of her personal attractions, and had thus addedexperience to the natural keen intuition all women possess. Theglances of several of the men, particularly the bold regard of oneRoger Brandt, whom Colonel Zane introduced, she had seen before, andlearned to dislike. On the whole, however, she was delighted with theprospect of new friends and future prosperity, and she felt evengreater pleasure in the certainty that her father shared hergratification. 

Suddenly she became aware that the conversation had ceased. She lookedup to see the tall, lithe form of Jonathan Zane as he strode acrossthe porch. She could see that a certain constraint had momentarilyfallen upon the company. It was an involuntary acknowledgment of theborderman's presence, of a presence that worked on all alike with asubtle, strong magnetism. 

"Ah, Jonathan, come out to see the sunset? It's unusually fineto-night, " said Colonel Zane. 

With hardly more than a perceptible bow to those present, theborderman took a seat near the rail, and, leaning upon it, directedhis gaze westward. 

Helen sat so near she could have touched him. She was conscious of thesame strange feeling, and impelling sense of power, which had comeupon her so strongly at first sight of him. More than that, a livelyinterest had been aroused in her. This borderman was to her a new andnovel character. She was amused at learning that here was a young manabsolutely indifferent to the charms of the opposite sex, and althoughhardly admitting such a thing, she believed it would be possible towin him from his indifference. On raising her eyelids, it was with theunconcern which a woman feigns when suspecting she is being regardedwith admiring eyes. But Jonathan Zane might not have known of herpresence, for all the attention he paid her. Therefore, having a goodopportunity to gaze at this borderman of daring deeds, Helen regardedhim closely. 

He was clad from head to foot in smooth, soft buckskin which fittedwell his powerful frame. Beaded moccasins, leggings bound high abovethe knees, hunting coat laced and fringed, all had the neat, tidyappearance due to good care. He wore no weapons. His hair fell in araven mass over his shoulders. His profile was regular, with a long, straight nose, strong chin, and eyes black as night. They were nowfixed intently on the valley. The whole face gave an impression ofserenity, of calmness. 

Helen was wondering if the sad, almost stern, tranquility of that faceever changed, when the baby cooed and held out its chubby littlehands. Jonathan's smile, which came quickly, accompanied by a warmlight in the eyes, relieved Helen of an unaccountable repugnance shehad begun to feel toward the borderman. That smile, brief as a flash, showed his gentle kindness and told that he was not a creature who hadset himself apart from human life and love. 

As he took little Rebecca, one of his hands touched Helen's. If he hadtaken heed of the contact, as any ordinary man might well have, shewould, perhaps, have thought nothing about it, but because he did notappear to realize that her hand had been almost inclosed in his, shecould not help again feeling his singular personality. She saw thatthis man had absolutely no thought of her. At the moment this did notawaken resentment, for with all her fire and pride she was not vain;but amusement gave place to a respect which came involuntarily. 

Little Rebecca presently manifested the faithlessness peculiar to hersex, and had no sooner been taken upon Jonathan's knee than she criedout to go back to Helen. 

"Girls are uncommon coy critters, " said he, with a grave smile in hiseyes. He handed back the child, and once more was absorbed in thesetting sun. 

Helen looked down the valley to behold the most beautiful spectacleshe had ever seen. Between the hills far to the west, the sky flamedwith a red and gold light. The sun was poised above the river, and theshimmering waters merged into a ruddy horizon. Long rays of crimsonfire crossed the smooth waters. A few purple clouds above caught therefulgence, until aided by the delicate rose and blue space beyond, they became many hued ships sailing on a rainbow sea. Each second sawa gorgeous transformation. Slowly the sun dipped into the goldenflood; one by one the clouds changed from crimson to gold, from goldto rose, and then to gray; slowly all the tints faded until, as thesun slipped out of sight, the brilliance gave way to the softafterglow of warm lights. These in turn slowly toned down intogray twilight. 

Helen retired to her room soon afterward, and, being unusuallythoughtful, sat down by the window. She reviewed the events of thisfirst day of her new life on the border. Her impressions had been somany, so varied, that she wanted to distinguish them. First she feltglad, with a sweet, warm thankfulness, that her father seemed sohappy, so encouraged by the outlook. Breaking old ties had been, sheknew, no child's play for him. She realized also that it had been donesolely because there had been nothing left to offer her in the oldhome, and in a new one were hope and possibilities. Then she wasrelieved at getting away from the attentions of a man whosepersistence had been most annoying to her. From thoughts of herfather, and the old life, she came to her new friends of the present. She was so grateful for their kindness. She certainly would do all inher power to win and keep their esteem. 

Somewhat of a surprise was it to her, that she reserved for JonathanZane the last and most prominent place in her meditations. Shesuddenly asked herself how she regarded this fighting borderman. Sherecalled her unbounded enthusiasm for the man as Colonel Zane had toldof him; then her first glimpse, and her surprise and admiration at thelithe-limbed young giant; then incredulity, amusement, and respectfollowed in swift order, after which an unaccountable coldness thatwas almost resentment. Helen was forced to admit that she did not knowhow to regard him, but surely he was a man, throughout every inch ofhis superb frame, and one who took life seriously, with neitherthought nor time for the opposite sex. And this last brought a blushto her cheek, for she distinctly remembered she had expected, if notadmiration, more than passing notice from this hero of the border. 

Presently she took a little mirror from a table near where she sat. Holding it to catch the fast-fading light, she studied her faceseriously. 

"Helen Sheppard, I think on the occasion of your arrival in a newcountry a little plain talk will be wholesome. Somehow or other, perhaps because of a crowd of idle men back there in the colonies, possibly from your own misguided fancy, you imagined you were fair tolook at. It is well to be undeceived. "

Scorn spoke in Helen's voice. She was angry because of having beeninterested in a man, and allowed that interest to betray her into agirlish expectation that he would treat her as all other men had. Themirror, even in the dim light, spoke more truly than she, for itcaught the golden tints of her luxuriant hair, the thousand beautifulshadows in her great, dark eyes, the white glory of a face fair as astar, and the swelling outline of neck and shoulders. 

With a sudden fiery impetuosity she flung the glass to the floor, where it was broken into several pieces. 

"How foolish of me! What a temper I have!" she exclaimed repentantly. "I'm glad I have another glass. Wouldn't Mr. Jonathan Zane, borderman, Indian fighter, hero of a hundred battles and never a sweetheart, beflattered? No, most decidedly he wouldn't. He never looked at me. Idon't think I expected that; I'm sure I didn't want it; but still hemight have--Oh! what am I thinking, and he a stranger?"

Before Helen lost herself in slumber on that eventful evening, shevowed to ignore the borderman; assured herself that she did not wantto see him again, and, rather inconsistently, that she would cure himof his indifference. 

 * * * * *

When Colonel Zane's guests had retired, and the villagers were gone totheir homes, he was free to consult with Jonathan. 

"Well, Jack, " he said, "I'm ready to hear about the horse thieves. "

"Wetzel makes it out the man who's runnin' this hoss-stealin' islocated right here in Fort Henry, " answered the borderman. 

The colonel had lived too long on the frontier to show surprise; hehummed a tune while the genial expression faded slowly from his face. 

"Last count there were one hundred and ten men at the fort, " hereplied thoughtfully. "I know over a hundred, and can trust them. There are some new fellows on the boats, and several strangers hanginground Metzar's. "

"'Pears to Lew an' me that this fellar is a slick customer, an' onewho's been here long enough to know our hosses an' where wekeep them. "

"I see. Like Miller, who fooled us all, even Betty, when he stole ourpowder and then sold us to Girty, " rejoined Colonel Zane grimly. 

"Exactly, only this fellar is slicker an' more desperate than Miller. "

"Right you are, Jack, for the man who is trusted and betrays us, mustbe desperate. Does he realize what he'll get if we ever find out, oris he underrating us?"

"He knows all right, an' is matchin' his cunnin' against our'n. "

"Tell me what you and Wetzel learned. "

The borderman proceeded to relate the events that had occurred duringa recent tramp in the forest with Wetzel. While returning from a huntin a swamp several miles over the ridge, back of Fort Henry, they ranacross the trail of three Indians. They followed this until darknessset in, when both laid down to rest and wait for the early dawn, thattime most propitious for taking the savage by surprise. On resumingthe trail they found that other Indians had joined the party they weretracking. To the bordermen this was significant of some unusualactivity directed toward the settlement. Unable to learn anythingdefinite from the moccasin traces, they hurried up on the trail tofind that the Indians had halted. 

Wetzel and Jonathan saw from their covert that the savages had a womanprisoner. A singular feature about it all was that the Indiansremained in the same place all day, did not light a camp-fire, andkept a sharp lookout. The bordermen crept up as close as safe, andremained on watch during the day and night. 

Early next morning, when the air was fading from black to gray, thesilence was broken by the snapping of twigs and a tremor of theground. The bordermen believed another company of Indians wasapproaching; but they soon saw it was a single white man leading anumber of horses. He departed before daybreak. Wetzel and Jonathancould not get a clear view of him owing to the dim light; but theyheard his voice, and afterwards found the imprint of his moccasins. They did, however, recognize the six horses as belonging to settlersin Yellow Creek. 

While Jonathan and Wetzel were consulting as to what it was best todo, the party of Indians divided, four going directly west, and theothers north. Wetzel immediately took the trail of the larger partywith the prisoner and four of the horses. Jonathan caught two of theanimals which the Indians had turned loose, and tied them in theforest. He then started after the three Indians who had gonenorthward. 

"Well?" Colonel Zane said impatiently, when Jonathan hesitated in hisstory. 

"One got away, " he said reluctantly. "I barked him as he was runnin'like a streak through the bushes, an' judged that he was hard hit. Igot the hosses, an' turned back on the trail of the white man. "

"Where did it end?"

"In that hard-packed path near the blacksmith shop. An' the fellarsteps as light as an Injun. "

"He's here, then, sure as you're born. We've lost no horses yet, butlast week old Sam heard a noise in the barn, and on going there foundBetty's mare out of her stall. "

"Some one as knows the lay of the land had been after her, " suggestedJonathan. 

"You can bet on that. We've got to find him before we lose all thefine horse-flesh we own. Where do these stolen animals go? Indianswould steal any kind; but this thief takes only the best. "

"I'm to meet Wetzel on the ridge soon, an' then we'll know, for he'sgoin' to find out where the hosses are taken. "

"That'll help some. On the way back you found where the white girl hadbeen taken from. Murdered father, burned cabin, the usual deviltry. "

"Exactly. "

"Poor Mabel! Do you think this white thief had anything to do withcarrying her away?"

"No. Wetzel says that's Bing Legget's work. The Shawnees were membersof his gang. "

"Well, Jack, what'll I do?"

"Keep quiet an' wait, " was the borderman's answer. 

Colonel Zane, old pioneer and frontiersman though he was, shuddered ashe went to his room. His brother's dark look, and his deadly calmness, were significant. 

CHAPTER IV

To those few who saw Jonathan Zane in the village, it seemed as if hewas in his usual quiet and dreamy state. The people were accustomed tohis silence, and long since learned that what little time he spent inthe settlement was not given to sociability. In the morning hesometimes lay with Colonel Zane's dog, Chief, by the side of a springunder an elm tree, and in the afternoon strolled aimlessly along theriver bluff, or on the hillside. At night he sat on his brother'sporch smoking a long Indian pipe. Since that day, now a week past, when he had returned with the stolen horses, his movements and habitswere precisely what would have been expected of an unsuspiciousborderman. 

In reality, however, Jonathan was not what he seemed. He knew all thatwas going on in the settlement. Hardly a bird could have entered theclearing unobserved. 

At night, after all the villagers were in bed, he stole cautiouslyabout the stockade, silencing with familiar word the bristlingwatch-hounds, and went from barn to barn, ending his stealthy tramp atthe corral where Colonel Zane kept his thoroughbreds. 

But all this scouting by night availed nothing. No unusual eventoccurred, not even the barking of a dog, a suspicious rustling amongthe thickets, or whistling of a night-hawk had been heard. 

Vainly the borderman strained ears to catch some low night-signalgiven by waiting Indians to the white traitor within the settlement. By day there was even less to attract the sharp-eyed watcher. Theclumsy river boats, half raft, half sawn lumber, drifted down the Ohioon their first and last voyage, discharged their cargoes of grain, liquor, or merchandise, and were broken up. Their crews came back onthe long overland journey to Fort Pitt, there to man another craft. The garrison at the fort performed their customary duties; thepioneers tilled the fields; the blacksmith scattered sparks, thewheelwright worked industriously at his bench, and the housewivesattended to their many cares. No strangers arrived at Fort Henry. Thequiet life of the village was uninterrupted. 

Near sunset of a long day Jonathan strolled down the sandy, well-trodden path toward Metzar's inn. He did not drink, andconsequently seldom visited the rude, dark, ill-smelling bar-room. When occasion demanded his presence there, he was evidently notwelcome. The original owner, a sturdy soldier and pioneer, came toFort Henry when Colonel Zane founded the settlement, and had beenkilled during Girty's last attack. His successor, another Metzar, was, according to Jonathan's belief, as bad as the whiskey he dispensed. More than one murder had been committed at the inn; countless fatalknife and tomahawk fights had stained red the hard clay floor; andmore than one desperate character had been harbored there. OnceColonel Zane sent Wetzel there to invite a thief and outlaw to quitthe settlement, with the not unexpected result that it becamenecessary the robber be carried out. 

Jonathan thought of the bad name the place bore all over the frontier, and wondered if Metzar could tell anything about the horse-thieves. When the borderman bent his tall frame to enter the low-studded doorhe fancied he saw a dark figure disappear into a room just behind thebar. A roughly-clad, heavily-bearded man turned hastily at thesame moment. 

"Hullo, " he said gruffly. 

"H' are you, Metzar. I just dropped in to see if I could make a tradefor your sorrel mare, " replied Jonathan. Being well aware that theinnkeeper would not part with his horse, the borderman had made thisannouncement as his reason for entering the bar-room. 

"Nope, I'll allow you can't, " replied Metzar. 

As he turned to go, Jonathan's eyes roamed around the bar-room. Several strangers of shiftless aspect bleared at him. 

"They wouldn't steal a pumpkin, " muttered Jonathan to himself as heleft the inn. Then he added suspiciously, "Metzar was talkin' to someone, an' 'peared uneasy. I never liked Metzar. He'll bear watchin'. "

The borderman passed on down the path thinking of what he had heardagainst Metzar. The colonel had said that the man was prosperous foran innkeeper who took pelts, grain or meat in exchange for rum. Thevillage gossips disliked him because he was unmarried, taciturn, anddid not care for their company. Jonathan reflected also on the factthat Indians were frequently coming to the inn, and this made himdistrustful of the proprietor. It was true that Colonel Zane hadred-skinned visitors, but there was always good reason for theircoming. Jonathan had seen, during the Revolution, more than onetrusted man proven to be a traitor, and the conviction settled uponhim that some quiet scouting would show up the innkeeper as aiding thehorse-thieves if not actually in league with them. 

"Good evening, Jonathan Zane. "

This greeting in a woman's clear voice brought Jonathan out from hisreveries. He glanced up to see Helen Sheppard standing in the doorwayof her father's cabin. 

"Evenin', miss, " he said with a bow, and would have passed on. 

"Wait, " she cried, and stepped out of the door. 

He waited by the gate with a manner which showed that such a summonswas novel to him. 

Helen, piqued at his curt greeting, had asked him to wait without anyidea of what she would say. Coming slowly down the path she felt againa subtle awe of this borderman. Regretting her impulsiveness, she lostconfidence. 

Gaining the gate she looked up intending to speak; but was unable todo so as she saw how cold and grave was his face, and how piercingwere his eyes. She flushed slightly, and then, conscious of anembarrassment new and strange to her, blushed rosy red, making, as itseemed to her, a stupid remark about the sunset. When he took herwords literally, and said the sunset was fine, she felt guilty ofdeceitfulness. Whatever Helen's faults, and they were many, she washonest, and because of not having looked at the sunset, but onlywanting him to see her as did other men, the innocent ruse suddenlyappeared mean and trifling. 

Then, with a woman's quick intuition, she understood that coquetrieswere lost on this borderman, and, with a smile, got the better of herembarrassment and humiliation by telling the truth. 

"I wanted to ask a favor of you, and I'm a little afraid. "

She spoke with girlish shyness, which increased as he stared at her. 

"Why--why do you look at me so?"

"There's a lake over yonder which the Shawnees say is haunted by awoman they killed, " he replied quietly. "You'd do for her spirit, sowhite an' beautiful in the silver moonlight. "

"So my white dress makes me look ghostly, " she answered lightly, though deeply conscious of surprise and pleasure at such an unexpectedreply from him. This borderman might be full of surprises. "Such atime as I had bringing my dresses out here! I don't know when I canwear them. This is the simplest one. "

"An' it's mighty new an' bewilderin' for the border, " he replied witha smile in his eyes. 

"When these are gone I'll get no more except linsey ones, " she saidbrightly, yet her eyes shone with a wistful uncertainty of the future. 

"Will you be happy here?"

"I am happy. I have always wanted to be of some use in the world. Iassure you, Master Zane, I am not the butterfly I seem. I have workedhard all day, that is, until your sister Betty came over. All thegirls have helped me fix up the cabin until it's more comfortable thanI ever dreamed one could be on the frontier. Father is well contenthere, and that makes me happy. I haven't had time for forebodings. Theyoung men of Fort Henry have been--well, attentive; in fact, they'vebeen here all the time. "

She laughed a little at this last remark, and looked demurely at him. 

"It's a frontier custom, " he said. 

"Oh, indeed? Do all the young men call often and stay late?"

"They do. "

"You didn't, " she retorted. "You're the only one who hasn't been tosee me. "

"I do not wait on the girls, " he replied with a grave smile. 

"Oh, you don't? Do you expect them to wait on you?" she asked, feeling, now she had made this silent man talk, once more at her ease. 

"I am a borderman, " replied Jonathan. There was a certain dignity orsadness in his answer which reminded Helen of Colonel Zane's portrayalof a borderman's life. It struck her keenly. Here was this young giantstanding erect and handsome before her, as rugged as one of the ashtrees of his beloved forest. Who could tell when his strong life mightbe ended by an Indian's hatchet?

"For you, then, is there no such thing as friendship?" she asked. 

"On the border men are serious. "

This recalled his sister's conversation regarding the attentions ofthe young men, that they would follow her, fight for her, and give herabsolutely no peace until one of them had carried her to his cabina bride. 

She could not carry on the usual conventional conversation with thisborderman, but remained silent for a time. She realized more keenlythan ever before how different he was from other men, and watchedclosely as he stood gazing out over the river. Perhaps something shehad said caused him to think of the many pleasures and joys he missed. But she could not be certain what was in his mind. She was notaccustomed to impassive faces and cold eyes with unlit fires in theirdark depths. More likely he was thinking of matters nearer to hiswild, free life; of his companion Wetzel somewhere out beyond thosefrowning hills. Then she remembered that the colonel had told her ofhis brother's love for nature in all its forms; how he watched theshades of evening fall; lost himself in contemplation of the lastcopper glow flushing the western sky, or became absorbed in the brightstars. Possibly he had forgotten her presence. Darkness was rapidlystealing down upon them. The evening, tranquil and gray, crept overthem with all its mystery. He was a part of it. She could not hope tounderstand him; but saw clearly that his was no common personality. She wanted to speak, to voice a sympathy strong within her; but shedid not know what to say to this borderman. 

"If what your sister tells me of the border is true, I may soon need afriend, " she said, after weighing well her words. She faced himmodestly yet bravely, and looked him straight in the eyes. Because hedid not reply she spoke again. 

"I mean such a friend as you or Wetzel. "

"You may count on both, " he replied. 

"Thank you, " she said softly, giving him her hand. "I shall notforget. One more thing. Will you break a borderman's custom, formy sake?"

"How?"

"Come to see me when you are in the settlement?"

Helen said this in a low voice with just a sob in her breath; but shemet his gaze fairly. Her big eyes were all aglow, alight with girlishappeal, and yet proud with a woman's honest demand for fair exchange. Promise was there, too, could he but read it, of wonderfulpossibilities. 

"No, " he answered gently. 

Helen was not prepared for such a rebuff. She was interested in him, and not ashamed to show it. She feared only that he mightmisunderstand her; but to refuse her proffered friendship, that wasindeed unexpected. Rude she thought it was, while from brow to curvingthroat her fair skin crimsoned. Then her face grew pale as themoonlight. Hard on her resentment had surged the swell of some newemotion strong and sweet. He refused her friendship because he did notdare accept it; because his life was not his own; because he was aborderman. 

While they stood thus, Jonathan looking perplexed and troubled, feeling he had hurt her, but knowing not what to say, and Helen with awarm softness in her eyes, the stalwart figure of a man loomed out ofthe gathering darkness. 

"Ah, Miss Helen! Good evening, " he said. 

"Is it you, Mr. Brandt?" asked Helen. "Of course you know Mr. Zane. "

Brandt acknowledged Jonathan's bow with an awkwardness which hadcertainly been absent in his greeting to Helen. He started slightlywhen she spoke the borderman's name. 

A brief pause ensued. 

"Good night, " said Jonathan, and left them. 

He had noticed Brandt's gesture of surprise, slight though it was, andwas thinking about it as he walked away. Brandt may have beenastonished at finding a borderman talking to a girl, and certainly, asfar as Jonathan was concerned, the incident was without precedent. But, on the other hand, Brandt may have had another reason, andJonathan tried to study out what it might be. 

He gave but little thought to Helen. That she might like himexceedingly well, did not come into his mind. He remembered his sisterBetty's gossip regarding Helen and her admirers, and particularlyRoger Brandt; but felt no great concern; he had no curiosity to knowmore of her. He admired Helen because she was beautiful, yet thefeeling was much the same he might have experienced for a gracefuldeer, a full-foliaged tree, or a dark mossy-stoned bend in a murmuringbrook. The girl's face and figure, perfect and alluring as they were, had not awakened him from his indifference. 

On arriving at his brother's home, he found the colonel and Bettysitting on the porch. 

"Eb, who is this Brandt?" he asked. 

"Roger Brandt? He's a French-Canadian; came here from Detroit a yearago. Why do you ask?"

"I want to know more about him. "

Colonel Zane reflected a moment, first as to this unusual request fromJonathan, and secondly in regard to what little he really did know ofRoger Brandt. 

"Well, Jack, I can't tell you much; nothing of him before he showed uphere. He says he has been a pioneer, hunter, scout, soldier, trader--everything. When he came to the fort we needed men. It wasjust after Girty's siege, and all the cabins had been burned. Brandtseemed honest, and was a good fellow. Besides, he had gold. He startedthe river barges, which came from Fort Pitt. He has surely done thesettlement good service, and has prospered. I never talked a dozentimes to him, and even then, not for long. He appears to like theyoung people, which is only natural. That's all I know; Betty mighttell you more, for he tried to be attentive to her. "

"Did he, Betty?" Jonathan asked. 

"He followed me until I showed him I didn't care for company, "answered Betty. 

"What kind of a man is he?"

"Jack, I know nothing against him, although I never fancied him. He'sbetter educated than the majority of frontiersmen; he's good-naturedand agreeable, and the people like him. "

"Why don't you?"

Betty looked surprised at his blunt question, and then said with alaugh: "I never tried to reason why; but since you have spoken Ibelieve my dislike was instinctive. "

After Betty had retired to her room the brothers remained on the porchsmoking. 

"Betty's pretty keen, Jack. I never knew her to misjudge a man. Whythis sudden interest in Roger Brandt?"

The borderman puffed his pipe in silence. 

"Say, Jack, " Colonel Zane said suddenly, "do you connect Brandt in anyway with this horse-stealing?"

"No more than some, an' less than others, " replied Jonathan curtly. 

Nothing more was said for a time. To the brothers this hour of earlydusk brought the same fullness of peace. From gray twilight to gloomydusk quiet reigned. The insects of night chirped and chorused withlow, incessant hum. From out the darkness came the peeping of frogs. 

Suddenly the borderman straightened up, and, removing the pipe fromhis mouth, turned his ear to the faint breeze, while at the same timeone hand closed on the colonel's knee with a warning clutch. 

Colonel Zane knew what that clutch signified. Some faint noise, toolow for ordinary ears, had roused the borderman. The colonel listened, but heard nothing save the familiar evening sounds. 

"Jack, what'd you hear?" he whispered. 

"Somethin' back of the barn, " replied Jonathan, slipping noiselesslyoff the steps, lying at full length with his ear close to the ground. "Where's the dog?" he asked. 

"Chief must have gone with Sam. The old nigger sometimes goes at thishour to see his daughter. "

Jonathan lay on the grass several moments; then suddenly he arose muchas a bent sapling springs to place. 

"I hear footsteps. Get the rifles, " he said in a fierce whisper. 

"Damn! There is some one in the barn. "

"No; they're outside. Hurry, but softly. "

Colonel Zane had but just risen to his feet, when Mrs. Zane came tothe door and called him by name. 

Instantly from somewhere in the darkness overhanging the road, came alow, warning whistle. 

"A signal!" exclaimed Colonel Zane. 

"Quick, Eb! Look toward Metzar's light. One, two, three, shadows--Injuns!"

"By the Lord Harry! Now they're gone; but I couldn't mistake thoseround heads and bristling feathers. "

"Shawnees!" said the borderman, and his teeth shut hard like steel onflint. 

"Jack, they were after the horses, and some one was on the lookout! ByGod! right under our noses!"

"Hurry, " cried Jonathan, pulling his brother off the porch. 

Colonel Zane followed the borderman out of the yard, into the road, and across the grassy square. 

"We might find the one who gave the signal, " said the colonel. "He wasnear at hand, and couldn't have passed the house. "

Colonel Zane was correct, for whoever had whistled would be forced totake one of two ways of escape; either down the straight road ahead, or over the high stockade fence of the fort. 

"There he goes, " whispered Jonathan. 

"Where? I can't see a blamed thing. "

"Go across the square, run around the fort, an' head him off on theroad. Don't try to stop him for he'll have weapons, just find outwho he is. "

"I see him now, " replied Colonel Zane, as he hurried off into thedarkness. 

During a few moments Jonathan kept in view the shadow he had seenfirst come out of the gloom by the stockade, and thence pass swiftlydown the road. He followed swiftly, silently. Presently a light beyondthrew a glare across the road. He thought he was approaching a yardwhere there was a fire, and the flames proved to be from pine conesburning in the yard of Helen Sheppard. He remembered then that she wasentertaining some of the young people. 

The figure he was pursuing did not pass the glare. Jonathan madecertain it disappeared before reaching the light, and he knew hiseyesight too well not to trust to it absolutely. Advancing nearer theyard, he heard the murmur of voices in gay conversation, and soon sawfigures moving about under the trees. 

No doubt was in his mind but that the man who gave the signal to warnthe Indians, was one of Helen Sheppard's guests. 

Jonathan had walked across the street then down the path, before hesaw the colonel coming from the opposite direction. Halting under amaple he waited for his brother to approach. 

"I didn't meet any one. Did you lose him?" whispered Colonel Zanebreathlessly. 

"No; he's in there. "

"That's Sheppard's place. Do you mean he's hiding there?"

"No!"

Colonel Zane swore, as was his habit when exasperated. Kind andgenerous man that he was, it went hard with him to believe in theguilt of any of the young men he had trusted. But Jonathan had saidthere was a traitor among them, and Colonel Zane did not question thisassertion. He knew the borderman. During years full of strife, andwar, and blood had he lived beside this silent man who said little, but that little was the truth. Therefore Colonel Zane gave wayto anger. 

"Well, I'm not so damned surprised! What's to be done?"

"Find out what men are there?"

"That's easy. I'll go to see George and soon have the truth. "

"Won't do, " said the borderman decisively. "Go back to the barn, an'look after the hosses. "

When Colonel Zane had obeyed Jonathan dropped to his hands and knees, and swiftly, with the agile movements of an Indian, gained a corner ofthe Sheppard yard. He crouched in the shade of a big plum tree. Then, at a favorable opportunity, vaulted the fence and disappeared under aclump of lilac bushes. 

The evening wore away no more tediously to the borderman, than tothose young frontiersmen who were whispering tender or playful wordsto their partners. Time and patience were the same to Jonathan Zane. He lay hidden under the fragrant lilacs, his eyes, accustomed to thedark from long practice, losing no movement of the guests. Finally itbecame evident that the party was at an end. One couple took theinitiative, and said good night to their hostess. 

"Tom Bennet, I hope it's not you, " whispered the borderman to himself, as he recognized the young fellow. 

A general movement followed, until the merry party were assembledabout Helen near the front gate. 

"Jim Morrison, I'll bet it's not you, " was Jonathan's comment. "Thatsoldier Williams is doubtful; Hart an' Johnson being strangers, areunknown quantities around here, an' then comes Brandt. "

All departed except Brandt, who remained talking to Helen in low, earnest tones. Jonathan lay very quietly, trying to decide what shouldbe his next move in the unraveling of the mystery. He paid littleattention to the young couple, but could not help overhearing theirconversation. 

"Indeed, Mr. Brandt, you frontiersmen are not backward, " Helen wassaying in her clear voice. "I am surprised to learn that you love meupon such short acquaintance, and am sorry, too, for I hardly knowwhether I even so much as like you. "

"I love you. We men of the border do things rapidly, " he repliedearnestly. 

"So it seems, " she said with a soft laugh. 

"Won't you care for me?" he pleaded. 

"Nothing is surer than that I never know what I am going to do, " Helenreplied lightly. 

"All these fellows are in love with you. They can't help it any morethan I. You are the most glorious creature. Please give me hope. "

"Mr. Brandt, let go my hand. I'm afraid I don't like such impulsivemen. "

"Please let me hold your hand. "

"Certainly not. "

"But I will hold it, and if you look at me like that again I'll domore, " he said. 

"What, bold sir frontiersman?" she returned, lightly still, but in avoice which rang with a deeper note. 

"I'll kiss you, " he cried desperately. 

"You wouldn't dare. "

"Wouldn't I though? You don't know us border fellows yet. You comehere with your wonderful beauty, and smile at us with that light inyour eyes which makes men mad. Oh, you'll pay for it. "

The borderman listened to all this love-making half disgusted, untilhe began to grow interested. Brandt's back was turned to him, andHelen stood so that the light from the pine cones shone on her face. Her eyes were brilliant, otherwise she seemed a woman perfectlyself-possessed. Brandt held her hand despite the repeated efforts shemade to free it. But she did not struggle violently, or makean outcry. 

Suddenly Brandt grasped her other hand, pulling her toward him. 

"These other fellows will kiss you, and I'm going to be the first!" hedeclared passionately. 

Helen drew back, now thoroughly alarmed by the man's fierce energy. She had been warned against this very boldness in frontiersmen; buthad felt secure in her own pride and dignity. Her blood boiled at thethought that she must exert strength to escape insult. She struggledviolently when Brandt bent his head. Almost sick with fear, she haddetermined to call for help, when a violent wrench almost toppled herover. At the same instant her wrists were freed; she heard a fiercecry, a resounding blow, and then the sodden thud of a heavy bodyfalling. Recovering her balance, she saw a tall figure beside her, anda man in the act of rising from the ground. 

"You?" whispered Helen, recognizing the tall figure as Jonathan's. 

The borderman did not answer. He stepped forward, slipping his handinside his hunting frock. Brandt sprang nimbly to his feet, and with aface which, even in the dim light, could be seen distorted with fury, bent forward to look at the stranger. He, too, had his hand within hiscoat, as if grasping a weapon; but he did not draw it. 

"Zane, a lighter blow would have been easier to forget, " he cried, hisvoice clear and cutting. Then he turned to the girl. "Miss Helen, Igot what I deserved. I crave your forgiveness, and ask you tounderstand a man who was once a gentleman. If I am one no longer, thefrontier is to blame. I was mad to treat you as I did. "

Thus speaking, he bowed low with the grace of a man sometimes used tothe society of ladies, and then went out of the gate. 

"Where did you come from?" asked Helen, looking up at Jonathan. 

He pointed under the lilac bushes. 

"Were you there?" she asked wonderingly. "Did you hear all?"

"I couldn't help hearin'. "

"It was fortunate for me; but why--why were you there?"

Helen came a step nearer, and regarded him curiously with her greateyes now black with excitement. 

The borderman was silent. 

Helen's softened mood changed instantly. There was nothing in his coldface which might have betrayed in him a sentiment similar to that ofher admirers. 

"Did you spy on me?" she asked quickly, after a moment's thought. 

"No, " replied Jonathan calmly. 

Helen gazed in perplexity at this strange man. She did not know how toexplain it; she was irritated, but did her best to conceal it. He hadno interest in her, yet had hidden under the lilacs in her yard. Shewas grateful because he had saved her from annoyance, yet could notfathom his reason for being so near. 

"Did you come here to see me?" she asked, forgetting her vexation. 

"No. "

"What for, then?"

"I reckon I won't say, " was the quiet, deliberate refusal. 

Helen stamped her foot in exasperation. 

"Be careful that I do not put a wrong construction on your strangeaction, " said she coldly. "If you have reasons, you might trust me. Ifyou are only----"

"Sh-s-sh!" he breathed, grasping her wrist, and holding it firmly inhis powerful hand. The whole attitude of the man had altered swiftly, subtly. The listlessness was gone. His lithe body became rigid as heleaned forward, his head toward the ground, and turned slightly in amanner that betokened intent listening. 

Helen trembled as she felt his powerful frame quiver. Whatever hadthus changed him, gave her another glimpse of his complex personality. It seemed to her incredible that with one whispered exclamation thisman could change from cold indifference to a fire and force so strongas to dominate her. 

Statue-like she remained listening; but hearing no sound, andthrillingly conscious of the hand on her arm. 

Far up on the hillside an owl hooted dismally, and an instant later, faint and far away, came an answer so low as to be almost indistinct. 

The borderman raised himself erect as he released her. 

"It's only an owl, " she said in relief. 

His eyes gleamed like stars. 

"It's Wetzel, an' it means Injuns!"

Then he was gone into the darkness. 

CHAPTER V

In the misty morning twilight Colonel Zane, fully armed, paced to andfro before his cabin, on guard. All night he had maintained a watch. He had not considered it necessary to send his family into the fort, to which they had often been compelled to flee. On the previous nightJonathan had come swiftly back to the cabin, and, speaking but twowords, seized his weapons and vanished into the black night. The wordswere "Injuns! Wetzel!" and there were none others with more power toaffect hearers on the border. The colonel believed that Wetzel hadsignaled to Jonathan. 

On the west a deep gully with precipitous sides separated thesettlement from a high, wooded bluff. Wetzel often returned from hisjourneying by this difficult route. He had no doubt seen Indian signs, and had communicated the intelligence to Jonathan by their system ofnight-bird calls. The nearness of the mighty hunter reassuredColonel Zane. 

When the colonel returned from his chase of the previous night, hewent directly to the stable, there to find that the Indians had madeoff with a thoroughbred, and Betty's pony. Colonel Zane was furious, not on account of the value of the horses, but because Bess was hisfavorite bay, and Betty loved nothing more than her pony Madcap. Tohave such a march stolen on him after he had heard and seen thethieves was indeed hard. High time it was that these horse thieves berun to earth. No Indian had planned these marauding expeditions. Anintelligent white man was at the bottom of the thieving, and he shouldpay for his treachery. 

The colonel's temper, however, soon cooled. He realized after thinkingover the matter, that he was fortunate it passed off withoutbloodshed. Very likely the intent had been to get all his horses, perhaps his neighbor's as well, and it had been partly frustrated byJonathan's keen sagacity. These Shawnees, white leader or not, wouldnever again run such risks. 

"It's like a skulking Shawnee, " muttered Colonel Zane, "to slip downhere under cover of early dusk, when no one but an Indian hunter coulddetect him. I didn't look for trouble, especially so soon after thelesson we gave Girty and his damned English and redskins. It's luckyJonathan was here. I'll go back to the old plan of stationing scoutsat the outposts until snow flies. "

While Colonel Zane talked to himself and paced the path he hadselected to patrol, the white mists cleared, and a rosy hue followedthe brightening in the east. The birds ceased twittering to break intogay songs, and the cock in the barnyard gave one final clarion-voicedsalute to the dawn. The rose in the east deepened into rich red, andthen the sun peeped over the eastern hilltops to drench the valleywith glad golden light. 

A blue smoke curling lazily from the stone chimney of his cabin, showed that Sam had made the kitchen fire, and a little later a rich, savory odor gave pleasing evidence that his wife was cookingbreakfast. 

"Any sign of Jack?" a voice called from the open door, and Bettyappeared. 

"Nary sign. "

"Of the Indians, then?"

"Well, Betts, they left you a token of their regard, " and Colonel Zanesmiled as he took a broken halter from the fence. 

"Madcap?" cried Betty. 

"Yes, they've taken Madcap and Bess. "

"Oh, the villains! Poor pony, " exclaimed Betty indignantly. "Eb, I'llcoax Wetzel to fetch the pony home if he has to kill every Shawnee inthe valley. "

"Now you're talking, Betts, " Colonel Zane replied. "If you could getLew to do that much, you'd be blessed from one end of the border tothe other. "

He walked up the road; then back, keeping a sharp lookout on allsides, and bestowing a particularly keen glance at the hillside acrossthe ravine, but could see no sign of the bordermen. As it was nowbroad daylight he felt convinced that further watch was unnecessary, and went in to breakfast. When he came out again the villagers wereastir. The sharp strokes of axes rang out on the clear morning air, and a mellow anvil-clang pealed up from the blacksmith shop. ColonelZane found his brother Silas and Jim Douns near the gate. 

"Morning, boys, " he cried cheerily. 

"Any glimpse of Jack or Lew?" asked Silas. 

"No; but I'm expecting one of 'em any moment. "

"How about the Indians?" asked Douns. "Silas roused me out last night;but didn't stay long enough to say more than 'Indians. '"

"I don't know much more than Silas. I saw several of the red devilswho stole the horses; but how many, where they've gone, or what we'reto expect, I can't say. We've got to wait for Jack or Lew. Silas, keepthe garrison in readiness at the fort, and don't allow a man, soldieror farmer, to leave the clearing until further orders. Perhaps therewere only three of those Shawnees, and then again the woods might havebeen full of them. I take it something's amiss, or Jack and Lew wouldbe in by now. "

"Here come Sheppard and his girl, " said Silas, pointing down the lane. "'Pears George is some excited. "

Colonel Zane had much the same idea as he saw Sheppard and hisdaughter. The old man appeared in a hurry, which was sufficient reasonto believe him anxious or alarmed, and Helen looked pale. 

"Ebenezer, what's this I hear about Indians?" Sheppard askedexcitedly. "What with Helen's story about the fort being besieged, andthis brother of yours routing honest people from their beds, I haven'thad a wink of sleep. What's up? Where are the redskins?"

"Now, George, be easy, " said Colonel Zane calmly. "And you, Helen, mustn't be frightened. There's no danger. We did have a visit fromIndians last night; but they hurt no one, and got only two horses. "

"Oh, I'm so relieved that it's not worse, " said Helen. 

"It's bad enough, Helen, " Betty cried, her black eyes flashing, "mypony Madcap is gone. "

"Colonel Zane, come here quick!" cried Douns, who stood near the gate. 

With one leap Colonel Zane was at the gate, and, following with hiseyes the direction indicated by Douns' trembling finger, he saw twotall, brown figures striding down the lane. One carried two rifles, and the other a long bundle wrapped in a blanket. 

"It's Jack and Wetzel, " whispered Colonel Zane to Jim. "They've gotthe girl, and by God! from the way that bundle hangs, I think she'sdead. Here, " he added, speaking loudly, "you women get intothe house. "

Mrs. Zane, Betty and Helen stared. 

"Go into the house!" he cried authoritatively. 

Without a protest the three women obeyed. 

At that moment Nellie Douns came across the lane; Sam shuffled outfrom the backyard, and Sheppard arose from his seat on the steps. Theyjoined Colonel Zane, Silas and Jim at the gate. 

"I wondered what kept you so late, " Colonel Zane said to Jonathan, ashe and his companion came up. "You've fetched Mabel, and she's----". The good man could say no more. If he should live an hundred years onthe border amid savage murderers, he would still be tender-hearted. Just now he believed the giant borderman by the side of Jonathan helda dead girl, one whom he had danced, when a child, upon his knee. 

"Mabel, an' jest alive, " replied Jonathan. 

"By God! I'm glad!" exclaimed Colonel Zane. "Here, Lew, give her tome. "

Wetzel relinquished his burden to the colonel. 

"Lew, any bad Indian sign?" asked Colonel Zane as he turned to go intothe house. 

The borderman shook his head. 

"Wait for me, " added the colonel. 

He carried the girl to that apartment in the cabin which served thepurpose of a sitting-room, and laid her on a couch. He gently removedthe folds of the blanket, disclosing to view a fragile, white-faced girl. 

"Bess, hurry, hurry!" he screamed to his wife, and as she came runningin, followed no less hurriedly by Betty, Helen and Nellie, hecontinued, "Here's Mabel Lane, alive, poor child; but in sore need ofhelp. First see whether she has any bodily injury. If a bullet must becut out, or a knife-wound sewed up, it's better she remainedunconscious. Betty, run for Bess's instruments, and bring brandy andwater. Lively now!" Then he gave vent to an oath and left the room. 

Helen, her heart throbbing wildly, went to the side of Mrs. Zane, whowas kneeling by the couch. She saw a delicate girl, not over eighteenyears old, with a face that would have been beautiful but for the setlips, the closed eyelids, and an expression of intense pain. 

"Oh! Oh!" breathed Helen. 

"Nell, hand me the scissors, " said Mrs. Zane, "and help me take offthis dress. Why, it's wet, but, thank goodness! 'tis not with blood. Iknow that slippery touch too well. There, that's right. Betty, give mea spoonful of brandy. Now heat a blanket, and get one of your linseygowns for this poor child. "

Helen watched Mrs. Zane as if fascinated. The colonel's wife continuedto talk while with deft fingers she forced a few drops of brandybetween the girl's closed teeth. Then with the adroitness of a skilledsurgeon, she made the examination. Helen had heard of this pioneerwoman's skill in setting broken bones and treating injuries, and whenshe looked from the calm face to the steady fingers, she had no doubtas to the truth of what had been told. 

"Neither bullet wound, cut, bruise, nor broken bone, " said Mrs. Zane. "It's fear, starvation, and the terrible shock. "

She rubbed Mabel's hands while gazing at her pale face. Then sheforced more brandy between the tightly-closed lips. She was rewardedby ever so faint a color tinging the wan cheeks, to be followed by afluttering of the eyelids. Then the eyes opened wide. They were large, soft, dark and humid with agony. 

Helen could not bear their gaze. She saw the shadow of death, and ofworse than death. She looked away, while in her heart rose a storm ofpassionate fury at the brutes who had made of this tender girla wreck. 

The room was full of women now, sober-faced matrons and grave-eyedgirls, yet all wore the same expression, not alone of anger, nor fear, nor pity, but of all combined. 

Helen instinctively felt that this was one of the trials of borderendurance, and she knew from the sterner faces of the maturer womenthat such a trial was familiar. Despite all she had been told, theshock and pain were too great, and she went out of the room sobbing. 

She almost fell over the broad back of Jonathan Zane who was sittingon the steps. Near him stood Colonel Zane talking with a tall man cladin faded buckskin. 

"Lass, you shouldn't have stayed, " said Colonel Zane kindly. 

"It's--hurt--me--here, " said Helen, placing her hand over her heart. 

"Yes, I know, I know; of course it has, " he replied, taking her hand. "But be brave, Helen, bear up, bear up. Oh! this border is a sternplace! Do not think of that poor girl. Come, let me introduceJonathan's friend, Wetzel!"

Helen looked up and held out her hand. She saw a very tall man withextremely broad shoulders, a mass of raven-black hair, and a whiteface. He stepped forward, and took her hand in his huge, horny palm, pressing it, he stepped back without speaking. Colonel Zane talked toher in a soothing voice; but she failed to hear what he said. ThisWetzel, this Indian-hunter whom she had heard called "Deathwind of theBorder, " this companion, guide, teacher of Jonathan Zane, thisborderman of wonderful deeds, stood before her. 

Helen saw a cold face, deathly in its pallor, lighted by eyessloe-black but like glinting steel. Striking as were these features, they failed to fascinate as did the strange tracings which apparentlyshowed through the white, drawn skin. This first repelled, then drewher with wonderful force. Suffering, of fire, and frost, and iron waswritten there, and, stronger than all, so potent as to cause fear, could be read the terrible purpose of this man's tragic life. 

"You avenged her! Oh! I know you did!" cried Helen, her whole heartleaping with a blaze to her eyes. 

She was answered by a smile, but such a smile! Kindly it broke overthe stern face, giving a glimpse of a heart still warm beneath thatsteely cold. Behind it, too, there was something fateful, something deadly. 

Helen knew, though the borderman spoke not, that somewhere among thegrasses of the broad plains, or on the moss of the wooded hills, laydead the perpetrators of this outrage, their still faces bearing theghastly stamp of Deathwind. 

CHAPTER VI

Happier days than she had hoped for, dawned upon Helen after the firsttouch of border sorrow. Mabel Lane did not die. Helen and Betty nursedthe stricken girl tenderly, weeping for very joy when signs ofimprovement appeared. She had remained silent for several days, alwayswith that haunting fear in her eyes, and then gradually came a change. Tender care and nursing had due effect in banishing the dark shadow. One morning after a long sleep she awakened with a bright smile, andfrom that time her improvement was rapid. 

Helen wanted Mabel to live with her. The girl's position was pitiable. Homeless, fatherless, with not a relative on the border, yet so brave, so patient that she aroused all the sympathy in Helen's breast. Village gossip was in substance, that Mabel had given her love to ayoung frontiersman, by name Alex Bennet, who had an affection for her, so it was said, but as yet had made no choice between her and theother lasses of the settlement. What effect Mabel's terribleexperience might have on this lukewarm lover, Helen could not evenguess; but she was not hopeful as to the future. Colonel Zane andBetty approved of Helen's plan to persuade Mabel to live with her, andthe latter's faint protestations they silenced by claiming she couldbe of great assistance in the management of the house, therefore itwas settled. 

Finally the day came when Mabel was ready to go with Helen. Betty hadgiven her a generous supply of clothing, for all her belongings hadbeen destroyed when the cabin was burned. With Helen's strong youngarm around her she voiced her gratitude to Betty and Mrs. Zane andstarted toward the Sheppard home. 

From the green square, where the ground was highest, an unobstructedview could be had of the valley. Mabel gazed down the river to whereher home formerly stood. Only a faint, dark spot, like a blur on thegreen landscape, could be seen. Her soft eyes filled with tears; butshe spoke no word. 

"She's game and that's why she didn't go under, " Colonel Zane said tohimself as he mused on the strength and spirit of borderwomen. Totheir heroism, more than any other thing, he attributed theestablishing of homes in this wilderness. 

In the days that ensued, as Mabel grew stronger, the girls became veryfond of each other. Helen would have been happy at any time with sucha sweet companion, but just then, when the poor girl's mind was sosorely disturbed she was doubly glad. For several days, after Mabelwas out of danger, Helen's thoughts had dwelt on a subject whichcaused extreme vexation. She had begun to suspect that she encouragedtoo many admirers for whom she did not care, and thought too much of aman who did not reciprocate. She was gay and moody in turn. During themoody hours she suspected herself, and in her gay ones, scorned theidea that she might ever care for a man who was indifferent. But thatthought once admitted, had a trick of returning at odd moments, clouding her cheerful moods. 

One sunshiny morning while the May flowers smiled under the hedge, when dew sparkled on the leaves, and the locust-blossoms shonecreamy-white amid the soft green of the trees, the girls set abouttheir much-planned flower gardening. Helen was passionately fond ofplants, and had brought a jar of seeds of her favorites all the wayfrom her eastern home. 

"We'll plant the morning-glories so they'll run up the porch, and thedahlias in this long row and the nasturtiums in this round bed, "Helen said. 

"You have some trailing arbutus, " added Mabel, "and must haveclematis, wild honeysuckle and golden-glow, for they are allsweet flowers. "

"This arbutus is so fresh, so dewy, so fragrant, " said Helen, bendingaside a lilac bush to see the pale, creeping flowers. "I never sawanything so beautiful. I grow more and more in love with my new homeand friends. I have such a pretty garden to look into, and I nevertire of the view beyond. "

Helen gazed with pleasure and pride at the garden with its fresh greenand lavender-crested lilacs, at the white-blossomed trees, and thevine-covered log cabins with blue smoke curling from their stonechimneys. Beyond, the great bulk of the fort stood guard above thewillow-skirted river, and far away over the winding stream the darkhills, defiant, kept their secrets. 

"If it weren't for that threatening fort one could imagine this littlehamlet, nestling under the great bluff, as quiet and secure as it isbeautiful, " said Helen. "But that charred stockade fence with itsscarred bastions and these lowering port-holes, always keep me aliveto the reality. "

"It wasn't very quiet when Girty was here, " Mabel repliedthoughtfully. 

"Were you in the fort then?" asked Helen breathlessly. 

"Oh, yes, I cooled the rifles for the men, " replied Mabel calmly. 

"Tell me all about it. "

Helen listened again to a story she had heard many times; but told bynew lips it always gained in vivid interest. She never tired ofhearing how the notorious renegade, Girty, rode around the fort on hiswhite horse, giving the defenders an hour in which to surrender; shelearned again of the attack, when the British soldiers remained silenton an adjoining hillside, while the Indians yelled exultantly and ranabout in fiendish glee, when Wetzel began the battle by shooting anIndian chieftain who had ventured within range of his ever fatalrifle. And when it came to the heroic deeds of that memorable siegeHelen could not contain her enthusiasm. She shed tears over littleHarry Bennet's death at the south bastion where, though riddled withbullets, he stuck to his post until relieved. Clark's race, across theroof of the fort to extinguish a burning arrow, she applauded withclapping hands. Her great eyes glowed and burned, but she was silent, when hearing how Wetzel ran alone to a break in the stockade, andthere, with an ax, the terrible borderman held at bay the wholeinfuriated Indian mob until the breach was closed. Lastly Betty Zane'snever-to-be-forgotten run with the powder to the relief of thegarrison and the saving of the fort was something not to cry over orapplaud; but to dream of and to glorify. 

"Down that slope from Colonel Zane's cabin is where Betty ran with thepowder, " said Mabel, pointing. 

"Did you see her?" asked Helen. 

"Yes, I looked out of a port-hole. The Indians stopped firing at thefort in their eagerness to shoot Betty. Oh, the banging of guns andyelling of savages was one fearful, dreadful roar! Through all thathail of bullets Betty ran swift as the wind. "

"I almost wish Girty would come again, " said Helen. 

"Don't; he might. "

"How long has Betty's husband, Mr. Clarke, been dead?" inquired Helen. 

"I don't remember exactly. He didn't live long after the siege. Somesay he inhaled the flames while fighting fire inside the stockade. "

"How sad!"

"Yes, it was. It nearly killed Betty. But we border girls do not giveup easily; we must not, " replied Mabel, an unquenchable spirit showingthrough the sadness of her eyes. 

Merry voices interrupted them, and they turned to see Betty and Nellentering the gate. With Nell's bright chatter and Betty's wit, theconversation became indeed vivacious, running from gossip to gowns, and then to that old and ever new theme, love. Shortly afterward thecolonel entered the gate, with swinging step and genial smile. 

"Well, now, if here aren't four handsome lasses, " he said with anadmiring glance. 

"Eb, I believe if you were single any girl might well suspect you ofbeing a flirt, " said Betty. 

"No girl ever did. I tell you I was a lady-killer in my day, " repliedColonel Zane, straightening his fine form. He was indeed handsome, with his stalwart frame, dark, bronzed face and rugged, manly bearing. 

"Bess said you were; but that it didn't last long after you saw her, "cried Betty, mischief gleaming in her dark eye. 

"Well, that's so, " replied the colonel, looking a trifle crest-fallen;"but you know every dog has his day. " Then advancing to the porch, helooked at Mabel with a more serious gaze as he asked, "How areyou to-day?"

"Thank you, Colonel Zane, I am getting quite strong. "

"Look up the valley. There's a raft coming down the river, " said hesoftly. 

Far up the broad Ohio a square patch showed dark against the greenwater. 

Colonel Zane saw Mabel start, and a dark red flush came over her paleface. For an instant she gazed with an expression of appeal, almostfear. He knew the reason. Alex Bennet was on that raft. 

"I came over to ask if I can be of any service?"

"Tell him, " she answered simply. 

"I say, Betts, " Colonel Zane cried, "has Helen's cousin cast any moresuch sheep eyes at you?"

"Oh, Eb, what nonsense!" exclaimed Betty, blushing furiously. 

"Well, if he didn't look sweet at you I'm an old fool. "

"You're one anyway, and you're horrid, " said Betty, tears of angerglistening in her eyes. 

Colonel Zane whistled softly as he walked down the lane. He went intothe wheelwright's shop to see about some repairs he was having made ona wagon, and then strolled on down to the river. Two Indians weresitting on the rude log wharf, together with several frontiersmen andrivermen, all waiting for the raft. He conversed with the Indians, whowere friendly Chippewas, until the raft was tied up. The first personto leap on shore was a sturdy young fellow with a shock of yellowhair, and a warm, ruddy skin. 

"Hello, Alex, did you have a good trip?" asked Colonel Zane of theyouth. 

"H'are ye, Colonel Zane. Yes, first-rate trip, " replied young Bennet. "Say, I've a word for you. Come aside, " and drawing Colonel Zane outof earshot of the others, he continued, "I heard this by accident, notthat I didn't spy a bit when I got interested, for I did; but the wayit came about was all chance. Briefly, there's a man, evidently anEnglishman, at Fort Pitt whom I overheard say he was out on the borderafter a Sheppard girl. I happened to hear from one of Brandt's men, who rode into Pitt just before we left, that you had new friends hereby that name. This fellow was a handsome chap, no common sort, butlordly, dissipated and reckless as the devil. He had a servanttraveling with him, a sailor, by his gab, who was about the toughestcustomer I've met in many a day. He cut a fellow in bad shape at Pitt. These two will be on the next boat, due here in a day or so, accordingto river and weather conditions, an' I thought, considerin' howunusual the thing was, I'd better tell ye. "

"Well, well, " said Colonel Zane reflectively. He recalled Sheppard'stalk about an Englishman. "Alex, you did well to tell me. Was the mandrunk when he said he came west after a woman?"

"Sure he was, " replied Alex. "But not when he spoke the name. Ye see Igot suspicious, an' asked about him. It's this way: Jake Wentz, thetrader, told me the fellow asked for the Sheppards when he got off thewagon-train. When I first seen him he was drunk, and I heard Jeff Lynnsay as how the border was a bad place to come after a woman. That'swhat made me prick up my ears. Then the Englishman said: 'It is, eh?By God! I'd go to hell after a woman I wanted. ' An' Colonel, helooked it, too. "

Colonel Zane remained thoughtful while Alex made up a bundle andforced the haft of an ax under the string; but as the young manstarted away the colonel suddenly remembered his errand down tothe wharf. 

"Alex, come back here, " he said, and wondered if the lad had goodstuff in him. The boatman's face was plain, but not evil, and a closescrutiny of it rather prepossessed the colonel. 

"Alex, I've some bad news for you, " and then bluntly, with his keengaze fastened on the young man's face, he told of old Lane's murder, of Mabel's abduction, and of her rescue by Wetzel. 

Alex began to curse and swear vengeance. 

"Stow all that, " said the colonel sharply. "Wetzel followed fourIndians who had Mabel and some stolen horses. The redskins quarreledover the girl, and two took the horses, leaving Mabel to the others. Wetzel went after these last, tomahawked them, and brought Mabel home. She was in a bad way, but is now getting over the shock. "

"Say, what'd we do here without Wetzel?" Alex said huskily, unmindfulof the tears that streamed from his eyes and ran over his browncheeks. "Poor old Jake! Poor Mabel! Damn me! it's my fault. If I'd 'adone right an' married her as I should, as I wanted to, she wouldn'thave had to suffer. But I'll marry her yet, if she'll have me. It wasonly because I had no farm, no stock, an' only that little cabin as isfull now, that I waited. "

"Alex, you know me, " said Colonel Zane in kindly tones. "Look there, down the clearing half a mile. See that green strip of land along theriver, with the big chestnut in the middle and a cabin beyond. There'sas fine farming land as can be found on the border, eighty acres, wellwatered. The day you marry Mabel that farm is yours. "

Alex grew red, stammered, and vainly tried to express his gratitude. 

"Come along, the sooner you tell Mabel the better, " said the colonelwith glowing face. He was a good matchmaker. He derived more pleasurefrom a little charity bestowed upon a deserving person, than from aseason's crops. 

When they arrived at the Sheppard house the girls were still on theporch. Mabel rose when she saw Alex, standing white and still. He, poor fellow, was embarrassed by the others, who regarded him withsteady eyes. 

Colonel Zane pushed Alex up on the porch, and said in a low voice:"Mabel, I've just arranged something you're to give Alex. It's a nicelittle farm, and it'll be a wedding present. "

Mabel looked in a bewildered manner from Colonel Zane's happy face tothe girls, and then at the red, joyous features of her lover. Onlythen did she understand, and uttering a strange little cry, put hertrembling hands to her bosom as she swayed to and fro. 

But she did not fall, for Alex, quick at the last, leaped forward andcaught her in his arms. 

 * * * * *

That evening Helen denied herself to Mr. Brandt and several othercallers. She sat on the porch with her father while he smokedhis pipe. 

"Where's Will?" she asked. 

"Gone after snipe, so he said, " replied her father. 

"Snipe? How funny! Imagine Will hunting! He's surely catching the wildfever Colonel Zane told us about. "

"He surely is. "

Then came a time of silence. Mr. Sheppard, accustomed to Helen'sgladsome spirit and propensity to gay chatter, noted how quiet shewas, and wondered. 

"Why are you so still?"

"I'm a little homesick, " Helen replied reluctantly. 

"No? Well, I declare! This is a glorious country; but not for such asyou, dear, who love music and gaiety. I often fear you'll not be happyhere, and then I long for the old home, which reminds me ofyour mother. "

"Dearest, forget what I said, " cried Helen earnestly. "I'm only alittle blue to-day; perhaps not at all homesick. "

"Indeed, you always seemed happy. "

"Father, I am happy. It's only--only a girl's foolish sentiment. "

"I've got something to tell you, Helen, and it has bothered me sinceColonel Zane spoke of it to-night. Mordaunt is coming to Fort Henry. "

"Mordaunt? Oh, impossible! Who said so? How did you learn?"

"I fear 'tis true, my dear. Colonel Zane told me he had heard of anEnglishman at Fort Pitt who asked after us. Moreover, the fellowanswers the description of Mordaunt. I am afraid it is he, and comeafter you. "

"Suppose he has--who cares? We owe him nothing. He cannot hurt us. "

"But, Helen, he's a desperate man. Aren't you afraid of him?"

"Not I, " cried Helen, laughing in scorn. "He'd better have a care. Hecan't run things with a high hand out here on the border. I told him Iwould have none of him, and that ended it. "

"I'm much relieved. I didn't want to tell you; but it seemednecessary. Well, child, good night, I'll go to bed. "

Long after Mr. Sheppard had retired Helen sat thinking. Memories ofthe past, and of the unwelcome suitor, Mordaunt, thronged upon herthick and fast. She could see him now with his pale, handsome face, and distinguished bearing. She had liked him, as she had other men, until he involved her father, with himself, in financial ruin, and hadmade his attention to her unpleasantly persistent. Then he hadfollowed the fall of fortune with wild dissipation, and became agambler and a drunkard. But he did not desist in his mad wooing. Hebecame like her shadow, and life grew to be unendurable, until herfather planned to emigrate west, when she hailed the news with joy. And now Mordaunt had tracked her to her new home. She was sick withdisgust. Then her spirit, always strong, and now freer for this new, wild life of the frontier, rose within her, and she dismissed allthoughts of this man and his passion. 

The old life was dead and buried. She was going to be happy here. Asfor the present, it was enough to think of the little border village, now her home; of her girl friends; of the quiet borderman: and, forthe moment, that the twilight was somber and beautiful. 

High up on the wooded bluff rising so gloomily over the village, shesaw among the trees something silver-bright. She watched it riseslowly from behind the trees, now hidden, now white through rifts inthe foliage, until it soared lovely and grand above the black horizon. The ebony shadows of night seemed to lift, as might a sable mantlemoved by invisible hands. But dark shadows, safe from the moon-rays, lay under the trees, and a pale, misty vapor hung below the brow ofthe bluff. 

Mysterious as had grown the night before darkness yielded to the moon, this pale, white light flooding the still valley, was even more softand strange. To one of Helen's temperament no thought was needed; tosee was enough. Yet her mind was active. She felt with haunting powerthe beauty of all before her; in fancy transporting herself far tothose silver-tipped clouds, and peopling the dells and shady nooksunder the hills with spirits and fairies, maidens and valiant knights. To her the day was as a far-off dream. The great watch stars grew wanbefore the radiant moon; it reigned alone. The immensity of the worldwith its glimmering rivers, pensive valleys and deep, gloomy forestslay revealed under the glory of the clear light. 

Absorbed in this contemplation Helen remained a long time gazing withdreamy ecstasy at the moonlit valley until a slight chill disturbedher happy thoughts. She knew she was not alone. Trembling, she stoodup to see, easily recognizable in the moonlight, the tallbuckskin-garbed figure of Jonathan Zane. 

"Well, sir, " she called, sharply, yet with a tremor in her voice. 

The borderman came forward and stood in front of her. Somehow heappeared changed. The long, black rifle, the dull, glinting weaponsmade her shudder. Wilder and more untamable he looked than ever. Thevery silence of the forest clung to him; the fragrance of the grassyplains came faintly from his buckskin garments. 

"Evenin', lass, " he said in his slow, cool manner. 

"How did you get here?" asked Helen presently, because he made noeffort to explain his presence at such a late hour. 

"I was able to walk. "

Helen observed, with a vaulting spirit, one ever ready to rise inarms, that Master Zane was disposed to add humor to his penetratingmysteriousness. She flushed hot and then paled. This bordermancertainly possessed the power to vex her, and, reluctantly sheadmitted, to chill her soul and rouse her fear. She strove to keepback sharp words, because she had learned that this singularindividual always gave good reason for his odd actions. 

"I think in kindness to me, " she said, choosing her words carefully, "you might tell me why you appear so suddenly, as if you had sprungout of the ground. "

"Are you alone?"

"Yes. Father is in bed; so is Mabel, and Will has not yet come home. Why?"

"Has no one else been here?"

"Mr. Brandt came, as did some others; but wishing to be alone, I didnot see them, " replied Helen in perplexity. 

"Have you seen Brandt since?"

"Since when?"

"The night I watched by the lilac bush. "

"Yes, several times, " replied Helen. Something in his tone made herashamed. "I couldn't very well escape when he called. Are yousurprised because after he insulted me I'd see him?"

"Yes. "

Helen felt more ashamed. 

"You don't love him?" he continued. 

Helen was so surprised she could only look into the dark face aboveher. Then she dropped her gaze, abashed by his searching eyes. But, thinking of his question, she subdued the vague stirrings of pleasurein her breast, and answered coldly:

"No, I do not; but for the service you rendered me I should never haveanswered such a question. "

"I'm glad, an' hope you care as little for the other five men who werehere that night. "

"I declare, Master Zane, you seem exceedingly interested in theaffairs of a young woman whom you won't visit, except as you have cometo-night. "

He looked at her with his piercing eyes. 

"You spied upon my guests, " she said, in no wise abashed now that hertemper was high. "Did you care so very much?"

"Care?" he asked slowly. 

"Yes; you were interested to know how many of my admirers were here, what they did, and what they said. You even hint disparaginglyof them. "

"True, I wanted to know, " he replied; "but I don't hint about anyman. "

"You are so interested you wouldn't call on me when I invited you, "said Helen, with poorly veiled sarcasm. It was this that made herbitter; she could never forget that she had asked this man to come tosee her, and he had refused. 

"I reckon you've mistook me, " he said calmly. 

"Why did you come? Why do you shadow my friends? This is twice youhave done it. Goodness knows how many times you've been here!Tell me. "

The borderman remained silent. 

"Answer me, " commanded Helen, her eyes blazing. She actually stampedher foot. "Borderman or not, you have no right to pry into my affairs. If you are a gentleman, tell me why you came here?"

The eyes Jonathan turned on Helen stilled all the angry throbbing ofher blood. 

"I come here to learn which of your lovers is the dastard who plottedthe abduction of Mabel Lane, an' the thief who stole our hosses. WhenI find the villain I reckon Wetzel an' I'll swing him to some tree. "

The borderman's voice rang sharp and cold, and when he ceased speakingshe sank back upon the step, shocked, speechless, to gaze up at himwith staring eyes. 

"Don't look so, lass; don't be frightened, " he said, his voice gentleand kind as it had been hard. He took her hand in his. "You nettled meinto replyin'. You have a sharp tongue, lass, and when I spoke I wasthinkin' of him. I'm sorry. "

"A horse-thief and worse than murderer among my friends!" murmuredHelen, shuddering, yet she never thought to doubt his word. 

"I followed him here the night of your company. "

"Do you know which one?"

"No. "

He still held her hand, unconsciously, but Helen knew it well. A senseof his strength came with the warm pressure, and comforted her. Shewould need that powerful hand, surely, in the evil days which seemedto darken the horizon. 

"What shall I do?" she whispered, shuddering again. 

"Keep this secret between you an' me. "

"How can I? How can I?"

"You must, " his voice was deep and low. "If you tell your father, orany one, I might lose the chance to find this man, for, lass, he'sdesperate cunnin'. Then he'd go free to rob others, an' mebbe helpmake off with other poor girls. Lass, keep my secret. "

"But he might try to carry me away, " said Helen in fearful perplexity. 

"Most likely he might, " replied the borderman with the smile that cameso rarely. 

"Oh! Knowing all this, how can I meet any of these men again? I'dbetray myself. "

"No; you've got too much pluck. It so happens you are the one to helpme an' Wetzel rid the border of these hell-hounds, an' you won't fail. I know a woman when it comes to that. "

"I--I help you and Wetzel?"

"Exactly. "

"Gracious!" cried Helen, half-laughing, half-crying. "And poor me withmore trouble coming on the next boat. "

"Lass, the colonel told me about the Englishman. It'll be bad for himto annoy you. "

Helen thrilled with the depth of meaning in the low voice. Fate surelywas weaving a bond between her and this borderman. She felt it in hissteady, piercing gaze; in her own tingling blood. 

Then as her natural courage dispelled all girlish fears, she facedhim, white, resolute, with a look in her eyes that matched his own. 

"I will do what I can, " she said. 

CHAPTER VII

Westward from Fort Henry, far above the eddying river, Jonathan Zaneslowly climbed a narrow, hazel-bordered, mountain trail. From time totime he stopped in an open patch among the thickets and breathed deepof the fresh, wood-scented air, while his keen gaze swept over theglades near by, along the wooded hillsides, and above at thetimber-strewn woodland. 

This June morning in the wild forest was significant of nature'sbrightness and joy. Broad-leaved poplars, dense foliaged oaks, andvine-covered maples shaded cool, mossy banks, while between the treesthe sunshine streamed in bright spots. It shone silver on the glancingsilver-leaf, and gold on the colored leaves of the butternut tree. Dewdrops glistened on the ferns; ripples sparkled in the brooks;spider-webs glowed with wondrous rainbow hues, and the flower of theforest, the sweet, pale-faced daisy, rose above the green like awhite star. 

Yellow birds flitted among the hazel bushes caroling joyously, andcat-birds sang gaily. Robins called; bluejays screeched in the tall, white oaks; wood-peckers hammered in the dead hard-woods, and crowscawed overhead. Squirrels chattered everywhere. Ruffed grouse rosewith great bustle and a whirr, flitting like brown flakes through theleaves. From far above came the shrill cry of a hawk, followed by thewilder scream of an eagle. 

Wilderness music such as all this fell harmoniously on the borderman'sear. It betokened the gladsome spirit of his wild friends, happy inthe warm sunshine above, or in the cool depths beneath the flutteringleaves, and everywhere in those lonely haunts unalarmed and free. 

Familiar to Jonathan, almost as the footpath near his home, was thiswinding trail. On the height above was a safe rendezvous, muchfrequented by him and Wetzel. Every lichen-covered stone, mossy bank, noisy brook and giant oak on the way up this mountain-side, could havetold, had they spoken their secrets, stories of the bordermen. Thefragile ferns and slender-bladed grasses peeping from the gray andamber mosses, and the flowers that hung from craggy ledges, had wisdomto impart. A borderman lived under the green tree-tops, and, therefore, all the nodding branches of sassafras and laurel, thegrassy slopes and rocky cliffs, the stately ash trees, kingly oaks anddark, mystic pines, together with the creatures that dwelt among them, save his deadly red-skinned foes, he loved. Other affection as closeand true as this, he had not known. Hearkening thus with single heartto nature's teachings, he learned her secrets. Certain it was, therefore, that the many hours he passed in the woods apart fromsavage pursuits, were happy and fruitful. 

Slowly he pressed on up the ascent, at length coming into open lightupon a small plateau marked by huge, rugged, weather-chipped stones. On the eastern side was a rocky promontory, and close to the edge ofthis cliff, an hundred feet in sheer descent, rose a gnarled, time andtempest-twisted chestnut tree. Here the borderman laid down his rifleand knapsack, and, half-reclining against the tree, settled himself torest and wait. 

This craggy point was the lonely watch-tower of eagles. Here on thehighest headland for miles around where the bordermen were wont tomeet, the outlook was far-reaching and grand. 

Below the gray, splintered cliffs sheered down to meet the wavingtree-tops, and then hill after hill, slope after slope, waved androlled far, far down to the green river. Open grassy patches, brightlittle islands in that ocean of dark green, shone on the hillsides. The rounded ridges ran straight, curved, or zigzag, but shaped theirgraceful lines in the descent to make the valley. Long, purple-hued, shadowy depressions in the wide expanse of foliage marked deep cleftsbetween ridges where dark, cool streams bounded on to meet the river. Lower, where the land was level, in open spaces could be seen a broadtrail, yellow in the sunlight, winding along with the curves of thewater-course. On a swampy meadow, blue in the distance, a herd ofbuffalo browsed. Beyond the river, high over the green island, FortHenry lay peaceful and solitary, the only token of the works of man inall that vast panorama. 

Jonathan Zane was as much alone as if one thousand miles, instead offive, intervened between him and the settlement. Loneliness was to hima passion. Other men loved home, the light of woman's eyes, the rattleof dice or the lust of hoarding; but to him this wild, remotepromontory, with its limitless view, stretching away to the dim hazyhorizon, was more than all the aching joys of civilization. 

Hours here, or in the shady valley, recompensed him for the loss ofhome comforts, the soft touch of woman's hands, the kiss of baby lips, and also for all he suffered in his pitiless pursuits, the hard fare, the steel and blood of a borderman's life. 

Soon the sun shone straight overhead, dwarfing the shadow of thechestnut on the rock. 

During such a time it was rare that any connected thought came intothe borderman's mind. His dark eyes, now strangely luminous, strayedlingeringly over those purple, undulating slopes. This intensewatchfulness had no object, neither had his listening. He watchednothing; he hearkened to the silence. Undoubtedly in this state ofrapt absorption his perceptions were acutely alert; but withoutthought, as were those of the savage in the valley below, or the eaglein the sky above. 

Yet so perfectly trained were these perceptions that the leastunnatural sound or sight brought him wary and watchful from hisdreamy trance. 

The slight snapping of a twig in the thicket caused him to sit erect, and reach out toward his rifle. His eyes moved among the dark openingsin the thicket. In another moment a tall figure pressed the bushesapart. Jonathan let fall his rifle, and sank back against the treeonce more. Wetzel stepped over the rocks toward him. 

"Come from Blue Pond?" asked Jonathan as the newcomer took a seatbeside him. 

Wetzel nodded as he carefully laid aside his long, black rifle. 

"Any Injun sign?" continued Jonathan, pushing toward his companion theknapsack of eatables he had brought from the settlement. 

"Nary Shawnee track west of this divide, " answered Wetzel, helpinghimself to bread and cheese. 

"Lew, we must go eastward, over Bing Legget's way, to find the trailof the stolen horses. "

"Likely, an' it'll be a long, hard tramp. "

"Who's in Legget's gang now beside Old Horse, the Chippewa, an' hisShawnee pard, Wildfire? I don't know Bing; but I've seen some of hisInjuns an' they remember me. "

"Never seen Legget but onct, " replied Wetzel, "an' that time I shothalf his face off. I've been told by them as have seen him since, thathe's got a nasty scar on his temple an' cheek. He's a big man an'knows the woods. I don't know who all's in his gang, nor does anybody. He works in the dark, an' for cunnin' he's got some on Jim Girty, Deerin', an' several more renegades we know of lyin' quiet back herein the woods. We never tackled as bad a gang as his'n; they're allexperienced woodsmen, old fighters, an' desperate, outlawed as they beby Injuns an' whites. It wouldn't surprise me to find that it's himan' his gang who are runnin' this hoss-thievin'; but bad or no, we'regoin' after 'em. "

Jonathan told of his movements since he had last seen his companion. 

"An' the lass Helen is goin' to help us, " said Wetzel, muchinterested. "It's a good move. Women are keen. Betty put Miller'sschemin' in my eye long 'afore I noticed it. But girls have chances wemen'd never get. "

"Yes, an' she's like Betts, quicker'n lightnin'. She'll find out thishoss-thief in Fort Henry; but Lew, when we do get him we won't be muchbetter off. Where do them hosses go? Who's disposin' of 'em forthis fellar?"

"Where's Brandt from?" asked Wetzel. 

"Detroit; he's a French-Canadian. "

Wetzel swung sharply around, his eyes glowing like wakening furnaces. 

"Bing Legget's a French-Canadian, an' from Detroit. Metzar was oncethick with him down Fort Pitt way 'afore he murdered a man an' becamean outlaw. We're on the trail, Jack. "

"Brandt an' Metzar, with Legget backin' them, an' the horses gooverland to Detroit?"

"I calkilate you've hit the mark. "

"What'll we do?" asked Jonathan. 

"Wait; that's best. We've no call to hurry. We must know the truthbefore makin' a move, an' as yet we're only suspicious. This lass'llfind out more in a week than we could in a year. But Jack, have a careshe don't fall into any snare. Brandt ain't any too honest a lookin'chap, an' them renegades is hell for women. The scars you wear provethat well enough. She's a rare, sweet, bloomin' lass, too. I neverseen her equal. I remember how her eyes flashed when she said she knewI'd avenged Mabel. Jack, they're wonderful eyes; an' that girl, however sweet an' good as she must be, is chain-lightnin' wrapped upin a beautiful form. Aren't the boys at the fort runnin' arter her?"

"Like mad; it'd make you laugh to see 'em, " replied Jonathan calmly. 

"There'll be some fights before she's settled for, an' mebbe arterthet. Have a care for her, Jack, an' see that she don't ketch you. "

"No more danger than for you. "

"I was ketched onct, " replied Wetzel. 

Jonathan Zane looked up at his companion. Wetzel's head was bowed; butthere was no merriment in the serious face exposed to theborderman's scrutiny. 

"Lew, you're jokin'. "

"Not me. Some day, when you're ketched good, an' I have to go back tothe lonely trail, as I did afore you an' me become friends, mebbethen, when I'm the last borderman, I'll tell you. "

"Lew, 'cordin' to the way settlers are comin', in a few more yearsthere won't be any need for a borderman. When the Injuns are all gonewhere'll be our work?"

"'Tain't likely either of us'll ever see them times, " said Wetzel, "an' I don't want to. Wal, Jack, I'm off now, an' I'll meet you hereevery other day. "

Wetzel shouldered his long rifle, and soon passed out of sight downthe mountain-side. 

Jonathan arose, shook himself as a big dog might have done, and wentdown into the valley. Only once did he pause in his descent, and thatwas when a crackling twig warned him some heavy body was moving near. Silently he sank into the bushes bordering the trail. He listened withhis ear close to the ground. Presently he heard a noise as of two hardsubstances striking together. He resumed his walk, having recognizedthe grating noise of a deer-hoof striking a rock. Farther down heespied a pair grazing. The buck ran into the thicket; but the doe eyedhim curiously. 

Less than an hour's rapid walking brought him to the river. Here heplunged into a thicket of willows, and emerged on a sandy strip ofshore. He carefully surveyed the river bank, and then pulled a smallbirch-bark canoe from among the foliage. He launched the frail craft, paddled across the river and beached it under a reedy, over-hanging bank. 

The distance from this point in a straight line to his destination wasonly a mile; but a rocky bluff and a ravine necessitated his making awide detour. While lightly leaping over a brook his keen eye fell onan imprint in the sandy loam. Instantly he was on his knees. Thefootprint was small, evidently a woman's, and, what was more unusual, instead of the flat, round moccasin-track, it was pointed, with asharp, square heel. Such shoes were not worn by border girls. TrueBetty and Nell had them; but they never went into the woods withoutmoccasins. 

Jonathan's experienced eye saw that this imprint was not an hour old. He gazed up at the light. The day was growing short. Already shadowslay in the glens. He would not long have light enough to follow thetrail; but he hurried on hoping to find the person who made it beforedarkness came. He had not traveled many paces before learning that theone who made it was lost. The uncertainty in those hasty steps was asplain to the borderman's eyes, as if it had been written in words onthe sand. The course led along the brook, avoiding the rough places;and leading into the open glades and glens; but it drew no nearer tothe settlement. A quarter of an hour of rapid trailing enabledJonathan to discern a dark figure moving among the trees. Abandoningthe trail, he cut across a ridge to head off the lost woman. Steppingout of a sassafras thicket, he came face to face with Helen Sheppard. 

"Oh!" she cried in alarm, and then the expression of terror gave placeto one of extreme relief and gladness. "Oh! Thank goodness! You'vefound me. I'm lost!"

"I reckon, " answered Jonathan grimly. "The settlement's only fivehundred yards over that hill. "

"I was going the wrong way. Oh! suppose you hadn't come!" exclaimedHelen, sinking on a log and looking up at him with warm, glad eyes. 

"How did you lose your way?" Jonathan asked. He saw neither the warmthin her eyes nor the gladness. 

"I went up the hillside, only a little way, after flowers, keeping thefort in sight all the time. Then I saw some lovely violets down alittle hill, and thought I might venture. I found such loads of them Iforgot everything else, and I must have walked on a little way. Onturning to go back I couldn't find the little hill. I have hunted invain for the clearing. It seems as if I have been wandering about forhours. I'm so glad you've found me!"

"Weren't you told to stay in the settlement, inside the clearing?"demanded Jonathan. 

"Yes, " replied Helen, with her head up. 

"Why didn't you?"

"Because I didn't choose. "

"You ought to have better sense. "

"It seems I hadn't, " Helen said quietly, but her eyes belied that calmvoice. 

"You're a headstrong child, " Jonathan added curtly. 

"Mr. Zane!" cried Helen with pale face. 

"I suppose you've always had your own sweet will; but out here on theborder you ought to think a little of others, if not of yourself. "

Helen maintained a proud silence. 

"You might have run right into prowlin' Shawnees. "

"That dreadful disaster would not have caused you any sorrow, " sheflashed out. 

"Of course it would. I might have lost my scalp tryin' to get you backhome, " said Jonathan, beginning to hesitate. Plainly he did not knowwhat to make of this remarkable young woman. 

"Such a pity to have lost all your fine hair, " she answered with atouch of scorn. 

Jonathan flushed, perhaps for the first time in his life. If there wasanything he was proud of, it was his long, glossy hair. 

"Miss Helen, I'm a poor hand at words, " he said, with a pale, graveface. "I was only speakin' for your own good. "

"You are exceedingly kind; but need not trouble yourself. "

"Say, " Jonathan hesitated, looking half-vexed at the lovely, angryface. Then an idea occurred to him. "Well, I won't trouble. Find yourway home yourself. "

Abruptly he turned and walked slowly away. He had no idea of allowingher to go home alone; but believed it might be well for her to thinkso. If she did not call him back he would remain near at hand, andwhen she showed signs of anxiety or fear he could go to her. 

Helen determined she would die in the woods, or be captured byShawnees, before calling him back. But she watched him. Slowly thetall, strong figure, with its graceful, springy stride, went down theglade. He would be lost to view in a moment, and then she would bealone. How dark it had suddenly become! The gray cloak of twilight wasspread over the forest, and in the hollows night already had settleddown. A breathless silence pervaded the woods. How lonely! thoughtHelen, with a shiver. Surely it would be dark before she could findthe settlement. What hill hid the settlement from view? She did notknow, could not remember which he had pointed out. Suddenly she beganto tremble. She had been so frightened before he had found her, and sorelieved afterward; and now he was going away. 

"Mr. Zane, " she cried with a great effort. "Come back. "

Jonathan kept slowly on. 

"Come back, Jonathan, please. "

The borderman retraced his steps. 

"Please take me home, " she said, lifting a fair face all flushed, tear-stained, and marked with traces of storm. "I was foolish, andsilly to come into the woods, and so glad to see you! But you spoke tome--in--in a way no one ever used before. I'm sure I deserved it. Please take me home. Papa will be worried. "

Softer eyes and voice than hers never entreated man. 

"Come, " he said gently, and, taking her by the hand, he led her up theridge. 

Thus they passed through the darkening forest, hand in hand, like adusky redman and his bride. He helped her over stones and logs, butstill held her hand when there was no need of it. She looked up to seehim walking, so dark and calm beside her, his eyes ever roving amongthe trees. Deepest remorse came upon her because of what she had said. There was no sentiment for him in this walk under the dark canopy ofthe leaves. He realized the responsibility. Any tree might hide atreacherous foe. She would atone for her sarcasm, she promisedherself, while walking, ever conscious of her hand in his, her bosomheaving with the sweet, undeniable emotion which came knocking ather heart. 

Soon they were out of the thicket, and on the dusty lane. A fewmoments of rapid walking brought them within sight of the twinklinglights of the village, and a moment later they were at the laneleading to Helen's home. Releasing her hand, she stopped him with alight touch and said:

"Please don't tell papa or Colonel Zane. "

"Child, I ought. Some one should make you stay at home. "

"I'll stay. Please don't tell. It will worry papa. "

Jonathan Zane looked down into her great, dark, wonderful eyes with anunaccountable feeling. He really did not hear what she asked. Something about that upturned face brought to his mind a rare andperfect flower which grew in far-off rocky fastnesses. The feeling hehad was intangible, like no more than a breath of fragrant westernwind, faint with tidings of some beautiful field. 

"Promise me you won't tell. "

"Well, lass, have it your own way, " replied Jonathan, wonderinglyconscious that it was the first pledge ever asked of him by a woman. 

"Thank you. Now we have two secrets, haven't we?" she laughed, witheyes like stars. 

"Run home now, lass. Be careful hereafter. I do fear for you with suchspirit an' temper. I'd rather be scalped by Shawnees than have BingLegget so much as set eyes on you. "

"You would? Why?" Her voice was like low, soft music. 

"Why?" he mused. "It'd seem like a buzzard about to light on a doe. "

"Good-night, " said Helen abruptly, and, wheeling, she hurried down thelane. 

CHAPTER VIII

"Jack, " said Colonel Zane to his brother next morning, "to-day isSaturday and all the men will be in. There was high jinks over atMetzar's place yesterday, and I'm looking for more to-day. The twofellows Alex Bennet told me about, came on day-before-yesterday'sboat. Sure enough, one's a lordly Englishman, and the other, thecussedest-looking little chap I ever saw. They started troubleimmediately. The Englishman, his name is Mordaunt, hunted up theSheppards and as near as I can make out from George's story, Helenspoke her mind very plainly. Mordaunt and Case, that's his servant, the little cuss, got drunk and raised hell down at Metzar's wherethey're staying. Brandt and Williams are drinking hard, too, which issomething unusual for Brandt. They got chummy at once with theEnglishman, who seems to have plenty of gold and is fond of gambling. This Mordaunt is a gentleman, or I never saw one. I feel sorry forhim. He appears to be a ruined man. If he lasts a week out here I'llbe surprised. Case looks ugly, as if he were spoiling to cut somebody. I want you to keep your eye peeled. The day may pass off as many otherdays of drinking bouts have, without anything serious, and on theother hand there's liable to be trouble. "

Jonathan's preparations were characteristic of the borderman. He laidaside his rifle, and, removing his short coat, buckled on a secondbelt containing a heavier tomahawk and knife than those he had beenwearing. Then he put on his hunting frock, or shirt, and wore it loosewith the belts underneath, instead of on the outside. Unfastened, thefrock was rather full, and gave him the appearance of a man unarmedand careless. 

Jonathan Zane was not so reckless as to court danger, nor, like manyfrontiersmen, fond of fighting for its own sake. Colonel Zane wascommandant of the fort, and, in a land where there was no law, triedto maintain a semblance of it. For years he had kept thieves, renegades and outlaws away from his little settlement by dealing outstern justice. His word was law, and his bordermen executed it assuch. Therefore Jonathan and Wetzel made it their duty to have a keeneye on all that was happening. They kept the colonel posted, and neverinterfered in any case without orders. 

The morning passed quietly. Jonathan strolled here or loitered there;but saw none of the roisterers. He believed they were sleeping off theeffects of their orgy on the previous evening. After dinner he smokedhis pipe. Betty and Helen passed, and Helen smiled. It struck himsuddenly that she had never looked at him in such a way before. Therewas meaning in that warm, radiant flash. A little sense of vexation, the source of which he did not understand, stirred in him against thisgirl; but with it came the realization that her white face and big, dark eyes had risen before him often since the night before. Hewished, for the first time, that he could understand women better. 

"Everything quiet?" asked Colonel Zane, coming out on the steps. 

"All quiet, " answered Jonathan. 

"They'll open up later, I suspect. I'm going over to Sheppard's for awhile, and, later, will drop into Metzar's. I'll make him haul in ayard or two. I don't like things I hear about his selling theyoungsters rum. I'd like you to be within call. "

The borderman strolled down the bluff and along the path whichoverhung the river. He disliked Metzar more than his brothersuspected, and with more weighty reason than that of selling rum tominors. Jonathan threw himself at length on the ground and mused overthe situation. 

"We never had any peace in this settlement, an' never will in our day. Eb is hopeful an' looks at the bright side, always expectin' to-morrowwill be different. What have the past sixteen years been? One longbloody fight, an' the next sixteen won't be any better. I make outthat we'll have a mix-up soon. Metzar an' Brandt with their allies, whoever they are, will be in it, an' if Bing Legget's in the gang, we've got, as Wetzel said, a long, hard trail, which may be our last. More'n that, there'll be trouble about this chain-lightnin' girl, asWetzel predicted. Women make trouble anyways; an' when they're winsomean' pretty they cause more; but if they're beautiful an' fiery, benton havin' their way, as this new lass is, all hell couldn't hold acandle to them. We don't need the Shawnees an' Girtys, an' hossthieves round this here settlement to stir up excitin' times, nowwe've got this dark-eyed lass. An' yet any fool could see she's sweet, an' good, an' true as gold. "

Toward the middle of the afternoon Jonathan sauntered in the directionof Metzar's inn. It lay on the front of the bluff, with its main doorslooking into the road. A long, one-story log structure with two doors, answered as a bar-room. The inn proper was a building morepretentious, and joined the smaller one at its western end. Severalhorses were hitched outside, and two great oxen yoked to a cumbersomemud-crusted wagon stood patiently by. 

Jonathan bent his tall head as he entered the noisy bar-room. Thedingy place reeked with tobacco smoke and the fumes of vile liquor. Itwas crowded with men. The lawlessness of the time and place wasevident. Gaunt, red-faced frontiersmen reeled to and fro across thesawdust floor; hunters and fur-traders, raftsmen and farmers, swelledthe motley crowd; young men, honest-faced, but flushed and wild withdrink, hung over the bar; a group of sullen-visaged, serpent-eyedIndians held one corner. The black-bearded proprietor dealt outthe rum. 

From beyond the bar-room, through a door entering upon the back porch, came the rattling of dice. Jonathan crossed the bar-room apparentlyoblivious to the keen glance Metzar shot at him, and went out upon theporch. This also was crowded, but there was more room because ofgreater space. At one table sat some pioneers drinking and laughing;at another were three men playing with dice. Colonel Zane, Silas, andSheppard were among the lookers-on at the game. Jonathan joined them, and gazed at the gamesters. 

Brandt he knew well enough; he had seen that set, wolfish expressionin the riverman's face before. He observed, however, that the man hadflushed cheeks and trembling hands, indications of hard drinking. Theplayer sitting next to Brandt was Williams, one of the garrison, and agood-natured fellow, but garrulous and wickedly disposed when drunk. The remaining player Jonathan at once saw was the Englishman, Mordaunt. He was a handsome man, with fair skin, and long, silken, blond mustache. Heavy lines, and purple shades under his blue eyes, were die unmistakable stamp of dissipation. Reckless, dissolute, badas he looked, there yet clung something favorable about the man. Perhaps it was his cool, devil-may-care way as he pushed over goldpiece after gold piece from the fast diminishing pile before him. Hisvelvet frock and silken doublet had once been elegant; but were nowsadly the worse for border roughing. 

Behind the Englishman's chair Jonathan saw a short man with a faceresembling that of a jackal. The grizzled, stubbly beard, theprotruding, vicious mouth, the broad, flat nose, and deep-set, small, glittering eyes made a bad impression on the observer. This man, Jonathan concluded, was the servant, Case, who was so eager with hisknife. The borderman made the reflection, that if knife-play was thelittle man's pastime, he was not likely to go short of sport inthat vicinity. 

Colonel Zane attracted Jonathan's attention at this moment. Thepioneers had vacated the other table, and Silas and Sheppard now satby it. The colonel wanted his brother to join them. 

"Here, Johnny, bring drinks, " he said to the serving boy. "Tell Metzarwho they're for. " Then turning to Sheppard he continued: "He keepsgood whiskey; but few of these poor devils ever see it. " At the sametime Colonel Zane pressed his foot upon that of Jonathan's. 

The borderman understood that the signal was intended to callattention to Brandt. The latter had leaned forward, as Jonathan passedby to take a seat with his brother, and said something in a low toneto Mordaunt and Case. Jonathan knew by the way the Englishman and hisman quickly glanced up at him, that he had been the subject ofthe remark. 

Suddenly Williams jumped to his feet with an oath. 

"I'm cleaned out, " he cried. 

"Shall we play alone?" asked Brandt of Mordaunt. 

"As you like, " replied the Englishman, in a tone which showed he carednot a whit whether he played or not. 

"I've got work to do. Let's have some more drinks, and play anothertime, " said Brandt. 

The liquor was served and drank. Brandt pocketed his pile of Spanishand English gold, and rose to his feet. He was a trifle unsteady; butnot drunk. 

"Will you gentlemen have a glass with me?" Mordaunt asked of ColonelZane's party. 

"Thank you, some other time, with pleasure. We have our drink now, "Colonel Zane said courteously. 

Meantime Brandt had been whispering in Case's ear. The little manlaughed at something the riverman said. Then he shuffled from behindthe table. He was short, his compact build gave promise of unusualstrength and agility. 

"What are you going to do now?" asked Mordaunt, rising also. He lookedhard at Case. 

"Shiver my sides, cap'n, if I don't need another drink, " replied thesailor. 

"You have had enough. Come upstairs with me, " said Mordaunt. 

"Easy with your hatch, cap'n, " grinned Case. "I want to drink withthat ther' Injun killer. I've had drinks with buccaneers, and bad menall over the world, and I'm not going to miss this chance. "

"Come on; you will get into trouble. You must not annoy thesegentlemen, " said Mordaunt. 

"Trouble is the name of my ship, and she's a trim, fast craft, "replied the man. 

His loud voice had put an end to the convention. Men began to crowd infrom the bar-room. Metzar himself came to see what had caused theexcitement. 

The little man threw up his cap, whooped, and addressed himself toJonathan:

"Injun-killer, bad man of the border, will you drink with a jolly oldtar from England?"

Suddenly a silence reigned, like that in the depths of the forest. Tothose who knew the borderman, and few did not know him, the invitationwas nothing less than an insult. But it did not appear to them, as tohim, like a pre-arranged plot to provoke a fight. 

"Will you drink, redskin-hunter?" bawled the sailor. 

"No, " said Jonathan in his quiet voice. 

"Maybe you mean that against old England?" demanded Case fiercely. 

The borderman eyed him steadily, inscrutable as to feeling or intent, and was silent. 

"Go out there and I'll see the color of your insides quicker than I'dtake a drink, " hissed the sailor, with his brick-red face distortedand hideous to look upon. He pointed with a long-bladed knife that noone had seen him draw, to the green sward beyond the porch. 

The borderman neither spoke, nor relaxed a muscle. 

"Ho! ho! my brave pirate of the plains!" cried Case, and he leeredwith braggart sneer into the faces of Jonathan and his companions. 

It so happened that Sheppard sat nearest to him, and got the fulleffect of the sailor's hot, rum-soaked breath. He arose with apale face. 

"Colonel, I can't stand this, " he said hastily. "Let's get away fromthat drunken ruffian. "

"Who's a drunken ruffian?" yelled Case, more angry than ever. "I'm notdrunk; but I'm going to be, and cut some of you white-livered bordermates. Here, you old masthead, drink this to my health, damn you!"

The ruffian had seized a tumbler of liquor from the table, and held ittoward Sheppard while he brandished his long knife. 

White as snow, Sheppard backed against the wall; but did not take thedrink. 

The sailor had the floor; no one save him spoke a word. The action hadbeen so rapid that there had hardly been time. Colonel Zane and Silaswere as quiet and tense as the borderman. 

"Drink!" hoarsely cried the sailor, advancing his knife towardSheppard's body. 

When the sharp point all but pressed against the old man, a brightobject twinkled through the air. It struck Case's wrist, knocked theknife from his fingers, and, bounding against the wall, fell upon thefloor. It was a tomahawk. 

The borderman sprang over the table like a huge catamount, and withmovement equally quick, knocked Case with a crash against the wall;closed on him before he could move a hand, and flung him like a sackof meal over the bluff. 

The tension relieved, some of the crowd laughed, others looked overthe embankment to see how Case had fared, and others remarked that forsome reason he had gotten off better than they expected. 

The borderman remained silent. He leaned against a post, with broadbreast gently heaving, but his eyes sparkled as they watched Brandt, Williams, Mordaunt and Metzar. The Englishman alone spoke. 

"Handily done, " he said, cool and suave. "Sir, yours is an iron hand. I apologize for this unpleasant affair. My man is quarrelsome whenunder the influence of liquor. "

"Metzar, a word with you, " cried Colonel Zane curtly. 

"Come inside, kunnel, " said the innkeeper, plainly ill at ease. 

"No; listen here. I'll speak to the point. You've got to stop runningthis kind of a place. No words, now, you've got to stop. Understand?You know as well as I, perhaps better, the character of your so-calledinn. You'll get but one more chance. "

"Wal, kunnel, this is a free country, " growled Metzar. "I can't helpthese fellars comin' here lookin' fer blood. I runs an honest place. The men want to drink an' gamble. What's law here? What can you do?"

"You know me, Metzar, " Colonel Zane said grimly. "I don't waste words. 'To hell with law!' so you say. I can say that, too. Remember, thenext drunken boy I see, or shady deal, or gambling spree, out you gofor good. "

Metzar lowered his shaggy head and left the porch. Brandt and hisfriends, with serious faces, withdrew into the bar-room. 

The borderman walked around the corner of the inn, and up the lane. The colonel, with Silas and Sheppard, followed in more leisurelyfashion. At a shout from some one they turned to see a dusty, bloodyfigure, with ragged clothes, stagger up from the bluff. 

"There's that blamed sailor now, " said Sheppard. "He's a tough nut. My! What a knock on the head Jonathan gave him. Strikes me, too, thattomahawk came almost at the right time to save me a whole skin. "

"I was furious, but not at all alarmed, " rejoined Colonel Zane. 

"I wondered what made you so quiet. "

"I was waiting. Jonathan never acts until the right moment, andthen--well, you saw him. The little villain deserved killing. I couldhave shot him with pleasure. Do you know, Sheppard, Jonathan'saversion to shedding blood is a singular thing. He'd never kill theworst kind of a white man until driven to it. "

"That's commendable. How about Wetzel?"

"Well, Lew is different, " replied Colonel Zane with a shudder. "If Itold him to take an ax and clean out Metzar's place--God! what a wreckhe'd make of it. Maybe I'll have to tell him, and if I do, you'll seesomething you can never forget. "

CHAPTER IX

On Sunday morning under the bright, warm sun, the little hamlet ofFort Henry lay peacefully quiet, as if no storms had ever rolled andthundered overhead, no roistering ever disturbed its stillness, and noIndian's yell ever horribly broke the quiet. 

"'Tis a fine morning, " said Colonel Zane, joining his sister on theporch. "Well, how nice you look! All in white for the first timesince--well, you do look charming. You're going to church, of course. "

"Yes, I invited Helen and her cousin to go. I've persuaded her toteach my Sunday-school class, and I'll take another of olderchildren, " replied Betty. 

"That's well. The youngsters don't have much chance to learn out here. But we've made one great stride. A church and a preacher means verymuch to young people. Next shall come the village school. "

"Helen and I might teach our classes an hour or two every afternoon. "

"It would be a grand thing if you did! Fancy these tots growing upunable to read or write. I hate to think of it; but the Lord knowsI've done my best. I've had my troubles in keeping them alive. "

"Helen suggested the day school. She takes the greatest interest ineverything and everybody. Her energy is remarkable. She simply mustmove, must do something. She overflows with kindness and sympathy. Yesterday she cried with happiness when Mabel told her Alex was eagerto be married very soon. I tell you, Eb, Helen is a fine character. "

"Yes, good as she is pretty, which is saying some, " mused the colonel. "I wonder who'll be the lucky fellow to win her. "

"It's hard to say. Not that Englishman, surely. She hates him. Jonathan might. You should see her eyes when he is mentioned. "

"Say, Betts, you don't mean it?" eagerly asked her brother. 

"Yes, I do, " returned Betty, nodding her head positively. "I'm noteasily deceived about those things. Helen's completely fascinated withJack. She might be only a sixteen-year-old girl for the way shebetrays herself to me. "

"Betty, I have a beautiful plan. "

"No doubt; you're full of them. "

"We can do it, Betty, we can, you and I, " he said, as he squeezed herarm. 

"My dear old matchmaking brother, " returned Betty, laughing, "it takestwo to make a bargain. Jack must be considered. "

"Bosh!" exclaimed the colonel, snapping his fingers. "You needn't tellme any young man--any man, could resist that glorious girl. "

"Perhaps not; I couldn't if I were a man. But Jack's not like otherpeople. He'd never realize that she cared for him. Besides, he's aborderman. "

"I know, and that's the only serious obstacle. But he could scoutaround the fort, even if he was married. These long, lonely, terriblejourneys taken by him and Wetzel are mostly unnecessary. A sweet wifecould soon make him see that. The border will be civilized in a fewyears, and because of that he'd better give over hunting for Indians. I'd like to see him married and settled down, like all the rest of us, even Isaac. You know Jack's the last of the Zanes, that is, the oldZanes. The difficulty arising from his extreme modesty and bashfulnesscan easily be overcome. "

"How, most wonderful brother?"

"Easy as pie. Tell Jack that Helen is dying of love for him, and tellher that Jack loves----"

"But, dear Eb, that latter part is not true, " interposed Betty. 

"True, of course it's true, or would be in any man who wasn't as blindas a bat. We'll tell her Jack cares for her; but he is a bordermanwith stern ideas of duty, and so slow and backward he'd never tell hislove even if he had overcome his tricks of ranging. That would settleit with any girl worth her salt, and this one will fetch Jack in tendays, or less. "

"Eb, you're a devil, " said Betty gaily, and then she added in a moresober vein, "I understand, Eb. Your idea is prompted by love of Jack, and it's all right. I never see him go out of the clearing but I thinkit may be for the last time, even as on that day so long ago whenbrother Andrew waved his cap to us, and never came back. Jack is thebest man in the world, and I, too, want to see him happy, with a wife, and babies, and a settled occupation in life. I think we might weave apretty little romance. Shall we try?"

"Try? We'll do it! Now, Betts, you explain it to both. You can do itsmoother than I, and telling them is really the finest point of ourlittle plot. I'll help the good work along afterwards. He'll be outpresently. Nail him at once. "

Jonathan, all unconscious of the deep-laid scheme to make him happy, soon came out on the porch, and stretched his long arms as he breathedfreely of the morning air. 

"Hello, Jack, where are you bound?" asked Betty, clasping one of hispowerful, buckskin-clad knees with her arm. 

"I reckon I'll go over to the spring, " he replied, patting her dark, glossy head. 

"Do you know I want to tell you something, Jack, and it's quiteserious, " she said, blushing a little at her guilt; but resolute tocarry out her part of the plot. 

"Well, dear?" he asked as she hesitated. 

"Do you like Helen?"

"That is a question, " Jonathan replied after a moment. 

"Never mind; tell me, " she persisted. 

He made no answer. 

"Well, Jack, she's--she's wildly in love with you. "

The borderman stood very still for several moments. Then, with onestep he gained the lawn, and turned to confront her. 

"What's that you say?"

Betty trembled a little. He spoke so sharply, his eyes were bent onher so keenly, and he looked so strong, so forceful that she wasalmost afraid. But remembering that she had said only what, to hermind, was absolutely true, she raised her eyes and repeated the words:

"Helen is wildly'in love with you. "

"Betty, you wouldn't joke about such a thing; you wouldn't lie to me, I know you wouldn't. "

"No, Jack dear. "

She saw his powerful frame tremble, even as she had seen more than oneman tremble, during the siege, under the impact of a bullet. 

Without speaking, he walked rapidly down the path toward the spring. 

Colonel Zane came out of his hiding-place behind the porch and, with aface positively electrifying in its glowing pleasure, beamed uponhis sister. 

"Gee! Didn't he stalk off like an Indian chief!" he said, chucklingwith satisfaction. "By George! Betts, you must have got in a greatpiece of work. I never in my life saw Jack look like that. "

Colonel Zane sat down by Betty's side and laughed softly but heartily. 

"We'll fix him all right, the lonely hill-climber! Why, he hasn't aghost of a chance. Wait until she sees him after hearing your story! Itell you, Betty--why--damme! you're crying!"

He had turned to find her head lowered, while she shaded her face withher hand. 

"Now, Betty, just a little innocent deceit like that--what harm?" hesaid, taking her hand. He was as tender as a woman. 

"Oh, Eb, it wasn't that. I didn't mind telling him. Only the flash inhis eyes reminded me of--of Alfred. "

"Surely it did. Why not? Almost everything brings up a tender memoryfor some one we've loved and lost. But don't cry, Betty. "

She laughed a little, and raised a face with its dark cheeks flushedand tear-stained. 

"I'm silly, I suppose; but I can't help it. I cry at least once everyday. "

"Brace up. Here come Helen and Will. Don't let them see you grieved. My! Helen in pure white, too! This is a conspiracy to ruin the peaceof the masculine portion of Fort Henry. "

Betty went forward to meet her friends while Colonel Zane continuedtalking, but now to himself. "What a fatal beauty she has!" His eyesswept over Helen with the pleasure of an artist. The fair richness ofher skin, the perfect lips, the wavy, shiny hair, the wondrousdark-blue, changing eyes, the tall figure, slender, but strong andswelling with gracious womanhood, made a picture he delighted in andloved to have near him. The girl did not possess for him any of thatmagnetism, so commonly felt by most of her admirers; but he did feelhow subtly full she was of something, which for want of a better termhe described in Wetzel's characteristic expression, as "chain-lightning. "

He reflected that as he was so much older, that she, although alwayswinsome and earnest, showed nothing of the tormenting, bewilderingcoquetry of her nature. Colonel Zane prided himself on hisdiscernment, and he had already observed that Helen had differentsides of character for different persons. To Betty, Mabel, Nell, andthe children, she was frank, girlish, full of fun and always lovable;to her elders quiet and earnestly solicitous to please; to the youngmen cold; but with a penetrating, mocking promise haunting thatcoldness, and sometimes sweetly agreeable, often wilful, andchangeable as April winds. At last the colonel concluded that sheneeded, as did all other spirited young women, the taming influence ofa man whom she loved, a home to care for, and children to soften andtemper her spirit. 

"Well, young friends, I see you count on keeping the Sabbath, " he saidcheerily. "For my part, Will, I don't see how Jim Douns can preachthis morning, before this laurel blossom and that damask rose. "

"How poetical! Which is which?" asked Betty. 

"Flatterer!" laughed Helen, shaking her finger. 

"And a married man, too!" continued Betty. 

"Well, being married has not affected my poetical sentiment, norimpaired my eyesight. "

"But it has seriously inconvenienced your old propensity of makinglove to the girls. Not that you wouldn't if you dared, " replied Bettywith mischief in her eye. 

"Now, Will, what do you think of that? Isn't it real sisterly regard?Come, we'll go and look at my thoroughbreds, " said Colonel Zane. 

"Where is Jonathan?" Helen asked presently. "Something happened atMetzar's yesterday. Papa wouldn't tell me, and I want to askJonathan. "

"Jack is down by the spring. He spends a great deal of his time there. It's shady and cool, and the water babbles over the stones. "

"How much alone he is, " said Helen. 

Betty took her former position on the steps, but did not raise hereyes while she continued speaking. "Yes, he's more alone than everlately, and quieter, too. He hardly ever speaks now. There must besomething on his mind more serious than horse-thieves. "

"What?" Helen asked quickly. 

"I'd better not tell--you. "

A long moment passed before Helen spoke. 

"Please tell me!"

"Well, Helen, we think, Eb and I, that Jack is in love for the firsttime in his life, and with you, you adorable creature. But Jack's aborderman; he is stern in his principles, thinks he is wedded to hisborder life, and he knows that he has both red and white blood on hishands. He'd die before he'd speak of his love, because he cannotunderstand that would do any good, even if you loved him, which is, ofcourse, preposterous. "

"Loves me!" breathed Helen softly. 

She sat down rather beside Betty, and turned her face away. She stillheld the young woman's hand which she squeezed so tightly as to makeits owner wince. Betty stole a look at her, and saw the rich red bloodmantling her cheeks, and her full bosom heave. 

Helen turned presently, with no trace of emotion except a singularbrilliance of the eyes. She was so slow to speak again that ColonelZane and Will returned from the corral before she found her voice. 

"Colonel Zane, please tell me about last night. When papa came home tosupper he was pale and very nervous. I knew something had happened. But he would not explain, which made me all the more anxious. Won'tyou please tell me?"

Colonel Zane glanced again at her, and knew what had happened. Despiteher self-possession those tell-tale eyes told her secret. Ever-changing and shadowing with a bounding, rapturous light, theywere indeed the windows of her soul. All the emotion of a woman'sheart shone there, fear, beauty, wondering appeal, trembling joy, andtimid hope. 

"Tell you? Indeed I will, " replied Colonel Zane, softened and a littleremorseful under those wonderful eyes. 

No one liked to tell a story better than Colonel Zane. Briefly andgraphically he related the circumstances of the affair leading to theattack on Helen's father, and, as the tale progressed, he became quiteexcited, speaking with animated face and forceful gestures. 

"Just as the knife-point touched your father, a swiftly-flying objectknocked the weapon to the floor. It was Jonathan's tomahawk. Whatfollowed was so sudden I hardly saw it. Like lightning, and flexibleas steel, Jonathan jumped over the table, smashed Case against thewall, pulled him up and threw him over the bank. I tell you, Helen, itwas a beautiful piece of action; but not, of course, for a woman'seyes. Now that's all. Your father was not even hurt. "

"He saved papa's life, " murmured Helen, standing like a statue. 

She wheeled suddenly with that swift bird-like motion habitual to her, and went quickly down the path leading to the spring. 

 * * * * *

Jonathan Zane, solitary dreamer of dreams as he was, had never been inas strange and beautiful a reverie as that which possessed him on thisSabbath morning. 

Deep into his heart had sunk Betty's words. The wonder of it, thesweetness, that alone was all he felt. The glory of this girl hadbegun, days past, to spread its glamour round him. Swept irresistiblyaway now, he soared aloft in a dream-castle of fancy with its paintedwindows and golden walls. 

For the first time in his life on the border he had entered the littleglade and had no eye for the crystal water flowing over the pebblesand mossy stones, or the plot of grassy ground inclosed by tall, darktrees and shaded by a canopy of fresh green and azure blue. Nor did hehear the music of the soft rushing water, the warbling birds, or thegentle sighing breeze moving the leaves. 

Gone, vanished, lost to-day was that sweet companionship of nature. That indefinable and unutterable spirit which flowed so peacefully tohim from his beloved woods; that something more than merely affectinghis senses, which existed for him in the stony cliffs, and breathedwith life through the lonely aisles of the forest, had fled before thefateful power of a woman's love and beauty. 

A long time that seemed only a moment passed while he leaned against astone. A light step sounded on the path. 

A vision in pure white entered the glade; two little hands pressedhis, and two dark-blue eyes of misty beauty shed their light on him. 

"Jonathan, I am come to thank you. "

Sweet and tremulous, the voice sounded far away. 

"Thank me? For what?"

"You saved papa's life. Oh! how can I thank you?"

No voice answered for him. 

"I have nothing to give but this. "

A flower-like face was held up to him; hands light as thistledowntouched his shoulders; dark-blue eyes glowed upon him with alltenderness. 

"May I thank you--so?"

Soft lips met his full and lingeringly. 

Then came a rush as of wind, a flash of white, and the patter offlying feet. He was alone in the glade. 

CHAPTER X

June passed; July opened with unusually warm weather, and Fort Henryhad no visits from Indians or horse-thieves, nor any inconvenienceexcept the hot sun. It was the warmest weather for many years, andseriously dwarfed the settlers' growing corn. Nearly all the springswere dry, and a drouth menaced the farmers. 

The weather gave Helen an excuse which she was not slow to adopt. Herpale face and languid air perplexed and worried her father and herfriends. She explained to them that the heat affected herdisagreeably. 

Long days had passed since that Sunday morning when she kissed theborderman. What transports of sweet hope and fear were hers then! Howshame had scorched her happiness! Yet still she gloried in the act. Bythat kiss had she awakened to a full consciousness of her love. Withinsidious stealth and ever-increasing power this flood had increasedto full tide, and, bursting its bonds, surged over her withirresistible strength. 

During the first days after the dawning of her passion, she lived inits sweetness, hearing only melodious sounds chiming in her soul. Thehours following that Sunday were like long dreams. But as all thingsreach fruition, so this girlish period passed, leaving her athoughtful woman. She began to gather up the threads of her life wherelove had broken them, to plan nobly, and to hope and wait. 

Weeks passed, however, and her lover did not come. Betty told her thatJonathan made flying trips at break of day to hold council withColonel Zane; that he and Wetzel were on the trail of Shawnees withstolen horses, and both bordermen were in their dark, vengeful, terrible moods. In these later days Helen passed through many stagesof feeling. After the exalting mood of hot, young love, came reaction. She fell into the depths of despair. Sorrow paled her face, thinnedher cheeks and lent another shadow, a mournful one, to her great eyes. The constant repression of emotion, the strain of trying to seemcheerful when she was miserable, threatened even her magnificenthealth. She answered the solicitude of her friends by evasion, andthen by that innocent falsehood in which a sensitive soul hides itssecrets. Shame was only natural, because since the borderman came not, nor sent her a word, pride whispered that she had wooed him, forgetting modesty. 

Pride, anger, shame, despair, however, finally fled before affection. She loved this wild borderman, and knew he loved her in returnalthough he might not understand it himself. His simplicity, his lackof experience with women, his hazardous life and stern duty regardingit, pleaded for him and for her love. For the lack of a littleunderstanding she would never live unhappy and alone while she wasloved. Better give a thousand times more than she had sacrificed. Hewould return to the village some day, when the Indians and the thieveswere run down, and would be his own calm, gentle self. Then she wouldwin him, break down his allegiance to this fearful border life, andmake him happy in her love. 

While Helen was going through one of the fires of life to come outsweeter and purer, if a little pensive and sad, time, which waits notfor love, nor life, nor death, was hastening onward, and soon thegolden fields of grain were stored. September came with its fruitfulpromise fulfilled. 

Helen entered once more into the quiet, social life of the littlesettlement, taught her class on Sundays, did all her own work, andeven found time to bring a ray of sunshine to more than one sickchild's bed. Yet she did not forget her compact with Jonathan, andbent all her intelligence to find some clew that might aid in thecapture of the horse-thief. She was still groping in the darkness. Shecould not, however, banish the belief that the traitor was Brandt. Sheblamed herself for this, because of having no good reasons forsuspicion; but the conviction was there, fixed by intuition. Because aman's eyes were steely gray, sharp like those of a cat's, and capableof the same contraction and enlargement, there was no reason tobelieve their owner was a criminal. But that, Helen acknowledged witha smile, was the only argument she had. To be sure Brandt had lookedcapable of anything, the night Jonathan knocked him down; she knew hehad incited Case to begin the trouble at Metzar's, and had seemedworried since that time. He had not left the settlement on shortjourneys, as had been his custom before the affair in the bar-room. And not a horse had disappeared from Fort Henry since that time. 

Brandt had not discontinued his attentions to her; if they were lessardent it was because she had given him absolutely to understand thatshe could be his friend only. And she would not have allowed even somuch except for Jonathan's plan. She fancied it was possible to seebehind Brandt's courtesy, the real subtle, threatening man. Strippedof his kindliness, an assumed virtue, the iron man stood revealed, cold, calculating, cruel. 

Mordaunt she never saw but once and then, shocking and pitiful, he laydead drunk in the grass by the side of the road, his pale, weary, handsome face exposed to the pitiless rays of the sun. She ran homeweeping over this wreck of what had once been so fine a gentleman. Ah!the curse of rum! He had learned his soft speech and courtly bearingin the refinement of a home where a proud mother adored, and gentlesisters loved him. And now, far from the kindred he had disgraced, helay in the road like a log. How it hurt her! She almost wished shecould have loved him, if love might have redeemed. She was more kindto her other admirers, more tolerant of Brandt, and could forgive theEnglishman, because the pangs she had suffered through love hadsoftened her spirit. 

During this long period the growing friendship of her cousin for Bettyhad been a source of infinite pleasure to Helen. She hoped andbelieved a romance would develop between the young widow and Will, anddid all in her power, slyly abetted by the matchmaking colonel, tobring the two together. 

One afternoon when the sky was clear with that intense blue peculiarto bright days in early autumn, Helen started out toward Betty's, intending to remind that young lady she had promised to hunt forclematis and other fall flowers. 

About half-way to Betty's home she met Brandt. He came swinging rounda corner with his quick, firm step. She had not seen him for severaldays, and somehow he seemed different. A brightness, a flash, as ofdaring expectation, was in his face. The poise, too, of the manhad changed. 

"Well, I am fortunate. I was just going to your home, " he saidcheerily. "Won't you come for a walk with me?"

"You may walk with me to Betty's, " Helen answered. 

"No, not that. Come up the hillside. We'll get some goldenrod. I'dlike to have a chat with you. I may go away--I mean I'm thinking ofmaking a short trip, " he added hurriedly. 

"Please come. "

"I promised to go to Betty's. "

"You won't come?" His voice trembled with mingled disappointment andresentment. 

"No, " Helen replied in slight surprise. 

"You have gone with the other fellows. Why not with me?" He was whitenow, and evidently laboring under powerful feelings that must have hadtheir origin in some thought or plan which hinged on the acceptance ofhis invitation. 

"Because I choose not to, " Helen replied coldly, meeting his glancefully. 

A dark red flush swelled Brandt's face and neck; his gray eyes gleamedbalefully with wolfish glare; his teeth were clenched. He breathedhard and trembled with anger. Then, by a powerful effort, he conqueredhimself; the villainous expression left his face; the storm of ragesubsided. Great incentive there must have been for him thus to represshis emotions so quickly. He looked long at her with sinister, intentregard; then, with the laugh of a desperado, a laugh which might haveindicated contempt for the failure of his suit, and which was fraughtwith a world of meaning, of menace, he left her without so much asa salute. 

Helen pondered over this sudden change, and felt relieved because sheneed make no further pretense of friendship. He had shown himself tobe what she had instinctively believed. She hurried on toward Betty's, hoping to find Colonel Zane at home, and with Jonathan, for Brandt'shint of leaving Fort Henry, and his evident chagrin at such a slip ofspeech, had made her suspicious. She was informed by Mrs. Zane thatthe colonel had gone to a log-raising; Jonathan had not been in forseveral days, and Betty went away with Will. 

"Where did they go?" asked Helen. 

"I'm not sure; I think down to the spring. "

Helen followed the familiar path through the grove of oaks into theglade. It was quite deserted. Sitting on the stone against whichJonathan had leaned the day she kissed him, she gave way to tenderreflection. Suddenly she was disturbed by the sound of rapidfootsteps, and looking up, saw the hulking form of Metzar, theinnkeeper, coming down the path. He carried a bucket, and meantevidently to get water. Helen did not desire to be seen, and, thinkinghe would stay only a moment, slipped into a thicket of willows behindthe stone. She could see plainly through the foliage. Metzar came intothe glade, peered around in the manner of a man expecting to see someone, and then, filling his bucket at the spring, sat down onthe stone. 

Not a minute elapsed before soft, rapid footsteps sounded in thedistance. The bushes parted, disclosing the white, set face and grayeyes of Roger Brandt. With a light spring he cleared the brook andapproached Metzar. 

Before speaking he glanced around the glade with the fugitive, distrustful glance of a man who suspects even the trees. Then, satisfied by the scrutiny he opened his hunting frock, taking forth along object which he thrust toward Metzar. 

It was an Indian arrow. 

Metzar's dull gaze traveled from this to the ominous face of Brandt. 

"See there, you! Look at this arrow! Shot by the best Indian on theborder into the window of my room. I hadn't been there a minute whenit came from the island. God! but it was a great shot!"

"Hell!" gasped Metzar, his dull face quickening with some awfulthought. 

"I guess it is hell, " replied Brandt, his face growing whiter andwilder. 

"Our game's up?" questioned Metzar with haggard cheek. 

"Up? Man! We haven't a day, maybe less, to shake Fort Henry. "

"What does it mean?" asked Metzar. He was the calmer of the two. 

"It's a signal. The Shawnees, who were in hiding with the horses overby Blueberry swamp, have been flushed by those bordermen. Some of themhave escaped; at least one, for no one but Ashbow could shoot thatarrow across the river. "

"Suppose he hadn't come?" whispered Metzar hoarsely. 

Brandt answered him with a dark, shuddering gaze. 

A twig snapped in the thicket. Like foxes at the click of a trap, these men whirled with fearsome glances. 

"Ugh!" came a low, guttural voice from the bushes, and an Indian ofmagnificent proportions and somber, swarthy features, enteredthe glade. 

CHAPTER XI

The savage had just emerged from the river, for his graceful, copper-colored body and scanty clothing were dripping with water. Hecarried a long bow and a quiver of arrows. 

Brandt uttered an exclamation of surprise, and Metzar a curse, as thelithe Indian leaped the brook. He was not young. His swarthy face waslined, seamed, and terrible with a dark impassiveness. 

"Paleface-brother-get-arrow, " he said in halting English, as his eyesflashed upon Brandt. "Chief-want-make-sure. "

The white man leaned forward, grasped the Indian's arm, and addressedhim in an Indian language. This questioning was evidently in regard tohis signal, the whereabouts of others of the party, and why he tooksuch fearful risks almost in the village. The Indian answered with oneEnglish word. 

"Deathwind!"

Brandt drew back with drawn, white face, while a whistling breathescaped him. 

"I knew it, Metz. Wetzel!" he exclaimed in a husky voice. 

The blood slowly receded from Metzar's evil, murky face, leaving ithaggard. 

"Deathwind-on-Chief's-trail-up-Eagle Rock, " continued the Indian. "Deathwind-fooled-not-for-long. Chief-wait-paleface-brothers atTwo Islands. "

The Indian stepped into the brook, parted the willows, and was gone ashe had come, silently. 

"We know what to expect, " said Brandt in calmer tone as the daringcast of countenance returned to him. "There's an Indian for you! Hegot away, doubled like an old fox on his trail, and ran in here togive us a chance at escape. Now you know why Bing Legget can'tbe caught. "

"Let's dig at once, " replied Metzar, with no show of returning couragesuch as characterized his companion. 

Brandt walked to and fro with bent brows, like one in deep thought. Suddenly he turned upon Metzar eyes which were brightly hard, andreckless with resolve. 

"By Heaven! I'll do it! Listen. Wetzel has gone to the top of EagleMountain, where he and Zane have a rendezvous. Even he won't suspectthe cunning of this Indian; anyway it'll be after daylight to-morrowbefore he strikes the trail. I've got twenty-four hours, and more, toget this girl, and I'll do it!"

"Bad move to have weight like her on a march, " said Metzar. 

"Bah! The thing's easy. As for you, go on, push ahead after we'restarted. All I ask is that you stay by me until the time tocut loose. "

"I ain't agoin' to crawfish now, " growled Metzar. "Strikes me, too, I'm losin' more'n you. "

"You won't be a loser if you can get back to Detroit with your scalp. I'll pay you in horses and gold. Once we reach Legget's placewe're safe. "

"What's yer plan about gittin' the gal?" asked Metzar. 

Brandt leaned forward and spoke eagerly, but in a low tone. 

"Git away on hoss-back?" questioned Metzar, visibly brightening. "Wal, that's some sense. Kin ye trust ther other party?"

"I'm sure I can, " rejoined Brandt. 

"It'll be a good job, a good job an' all done in daylight, too. BingLegget couldn't plan better, " Metzar said, rubbing his hands, "We've fooled these Zanes and their fruit-raising farmers for a year, and our time is about up, " Brandt muttered. "One more job and we'vedone. Once with Legget we're safe, and then we'll work slowly backtowards Detroit. Let's get out of here now, for some one may come atany moment. "

The plotters separated, Brandt going through the grove, and Metzardown the path by which he had come. 

 * * * * *

Helen, trembling with horror of what she had heard, raised herselfcautiously from the willows where she had lain, and watched theinnkeeper's retreating figure. When it had disappeared she gave alittle gasp of relief. Free now to run home, there to plan what coursemust be pursued, she conquered her fear and weakness, and hurried fromthe glade. Luckily, so far as she was able to tell, no one saw herreturn. She resolved that she would be cool, deliberate, clever, worthy of the borderman's confidence. 

First she tried to determine the purport of this interview betweenBrandt and Metzar. She recalled to mind all that was said, andsupplied what she thought had been suggested. Brandt and Metzar werehorse-thieves, aids of Bing Legget. They had repaired to the glade toplan. The Indian had been a surprise. Wetzel had routed the Shawnees, and was now on the trail of this chieftain. The Indian warned them toleave Fort Henry and to meet him at a place called Two Islands. Brandt's plan, presumably somewhat changed by the advent of thered-man, was to steal horses, abduct a girl in broad daylight, andbefore tomorrow's sunset escape to join the ruffian Legget. 

"I am the girl, " murmured Helen shudderingly, as she relapsedmomentarily into girlish fears. But at once she rose aboveselfish feelings. 

Secondly, while it was easy to determine what the outlaws meant, thewisest course was difficult to conceive. She had promised theborderman to help him, and not speak of anything she learned to anybut himself. She could not be true to him if she asked advice. Thepoint was clear; either she must remain in the settlement hoping forJonathan's return in time to frustrate Brandt's villainous scheme, orfind the borderman. Suddenly she remembered Metzar's allusion to asecond person whom Brandt felt certain he could trust. This meantanother traitor in Fort Henry, another horse-thief, another desperadowilling to make off with helpless women. 

Helen's spirit rose in arms. She had their secret, and could ruinthem. She would find the borderman. 

Wetzel was on the trail at Eagle Rock. What for? Trailing an Indianwho was then five miles east of that rock? Not Wetzel! He was on thattrack to meet Jonathan. Otherwise, with the redskins near the river, he would have been closer to them. He would meet Jonathan there atsunset to-day, Helen decided. 

She paced the room, trying to still her throbbing heart and tremblinghands. 

"I must be calm, " she said sternly. "Time is precious. I have not amoment to lose. I will find him. I've watched that mountain many atime, and can find the trail and the rock. I am in more danger here, than out there in the forest. With Wetzel and Jonathan on the mountainside, the Indians have fled it. But what about the savage who warnedBrandt? Let me think. Yes, he'll avoid the river; he'll go round southof the settlement, and, therefore, can't see me cross. How fortunatethat I have paddled a canoe many times across the river. How glad thatI made Colonel Zane describe the course up the mountains!"

Her resolution fixed, Helen changed her skirt for one of buckskin, putting on leggings and moccasins of the same serviceable material. She filled the pockets of a short, rain-proof jacket with biscuits, and, thus equipped, sallied forth with a spirit and exultation shecould not subdue. Only one thing she feared, which was that Brandt orMetzar might see her cross the river. She launched her canoe andpaddled down stream, under cover of the bluff, to a point opposite theend of the island, then straight across, keeping the island betweenher and the settlement. Gaining the other shore, Helen pulled thecanoe into the willows, and mounted the bank. A thicket of willow andalder made progress up the steep incline difficult, but once out of itshe faced a long stretch of grassy meadowland. A mile beyond began thegreen, billowy rise of that mountain which she intended to climb. 

Helen's whole soul was thrown into the adventure. She felt her strongyoung limbs in accord with her heart. 

"Now, Mr. Brandt, horse-thief and girl-snatcher, we'll see, " she saidwith scornful lips. "If I can't beat you now I'm not fit to be BettyZane's friend; and am unworthy of a borderman's trust. "

She traversed the whole length of meadowland close under the shadow ofthe fringed bank, and gained the forest. Here she hesitated. All wasso wild and still. No definite course through the woods seemed toinvite, and yet all was open. Trees, trees, dark, immovable treeseverywhere. The violent trembling of poplar and aspen leaves, when allothers were so calm, struck her strangely, and the fearful stillnessawed her. Drawing a deep breath she started forward up the gentlyrising ground. 

As she advanced the open forest became darker, and of wilder aspect. The trees were larger and closer together. Still she made fairprogress without deviating from the course she had determined upon. Before her rose a ridge, with a ravine on either side, reaching nearlyto the summit of the mountain. Here the underbrush was scanty, thefallen trees had slipped down the side, and the rocks were not sonumerous, all of which gave her reason to be proud, so far, ofher judgment. 

Helen, pressing onward and upward, forgot time and danger, while shereveled in the wonder of the forestland. Birds and squirrels fledbefore her; whistling and wheezing of alarm, or heavy crashings in thebushes, told of frightened wild beasts. A dull, faint roar, like adistant wind, suggested tumbling waters. A single birch tree, gleamingwhite among the black trees, enlivened the gloomy forest. Patches ofsunlight brightened the shade. Giant ferns, just tinging with autumncolors, waved tips of sculptured perfection. Most wonderful of allwere the colored leaves, as they floated downward with a sad, gentle rustle. 

Helen was brought to a realization of her hazardous undertaking by asudden roar of water, and the abrupt termination of the ridge in adeep gorge. Grasping a tree she leaned over to look down. It was fullyan hundred feet deep, with impassable walls, green-stained and damp, at the bottom of which a brawling, brown brook rushed on its way. Fully twenty feet wide, it presented an insurmountable barrier tofurther progress in that direction. 

But Helen looked upon it merely as a difficulty to be overcome. Shestudied the situation, and decided to go to the left because higherground was to be seen that way. Abandoning the ridge, she pressed on, keeping as close to the gorge as she dared, and came presently to afallen tree lying across the dark cleft. Without a second'shesitation, for she knew such would be fatal, she stepped upon thetree and started across, looking at nothing but the log under herfeet, while she tried to imagine herself walking across thewater-gate, at home in Virginia. 

She accomplished the venture without a misstep. When safely on theground once more she felt her knees tremble and a queer, light feelingcame into her head. She laughed, however, as she rested a moment. Itwould take more than a gorge to discourage her, she resolved with setlips, as once again she made her way along the rising ground. 

Perilous, if not desperate, work was ahead of her. Broken, rockyground, matted thicket, and seemingly impenetrable forest, rose darklyin advance. But she was not even tired, and climbed, crawled, twistedand turned on her way upward. She surmounted a rocky ledge, to face ahigher ridge covered with splintered, uneven stones, and the fallentrees of many storms. Once she slipped and fell, spraining her wrist. At length this uphill labor began to weary her. To breathe caused apain in her side and she was compelled to rest. 

Already the gray light of coming night shrouded the forest. She wassurprised at seeing the trees become indistinct; because the shadowshovered over the thickets, and noted that the dark, dim outline of theridges was fading into obscurity. 

She struggled on up the uneven slope with a tightening at her heartwhich was not all exhaustion. For the first time she doubted herself, but it was too late. She could not turn back. Suddenly she felt thatshe was on a smoother, easier course. Not to strike a stone or break atwig seemed unusual. It might be a path worn by deer going to aspring. Then into her troubled mind flashed the joyful thought, shehad found a trail. 

Soft, wiry grass, springing from a wet soil, rose under her feet. Alittle rill trickled alongside the trail. Mossy, soft-cushioned stoneslay imbedded here and there. Young maples and hickories grewbreast-high on either side, and the way wound in and out under thelowering shade of forest monarchs. 

Swiftly ascending this path she came at length to a point where it waspossible to see some distance ahead. The ascent became hardlynoticeable. Then, as she turned a bend of the trail, the light grewbrighter and brighter, until presently all was open and clear. An ovalspace, covered with stones, lay before her. A big, blasted chestnutstood near by. Beyond was the dim, purple haze of distance. Above, thepale, blue sky just faintly rose-tinted by the setting sun. Far to herleft the scraggly trees of a low hill were tipped with orange andrusset shades. She had reached the summit. 

Desolate and lonely was this little plateau. Helen felt immeasurablyfar away from home. Yet she could see in the blue distance theglancing river, the dark fort, and that cluster of cabins which markedthe location of Fort Henry. Sitting upon the roots of the big chestnuttree she gazed around. There were the remains of a small camp-fire. Beyond, a hollow under a shelving rock. A bed of dry leaves lay packedin this shelter. Some one had been here, and she doubted not that itwas the borderman. 

She was so tired and her wrist pained so severely that she lay backagainst the tree-trunk, closed her eyes and rested. A weariness, theapathy of utter exhaustion, came over her. She wished the bordermenwould hurry and come before she went to sleep. 

Drowsily she was sinking into slumber when a long, low rumble arousedher. How dark it had suddenly become! A sheet of pale light flaredacross the overcast heavens. 

"A storm!" exclaimed Helen. "Alone on this mountain-top with a stormcoming. Am I frightened? I don't believe it. At least I'm safe fromthat ruffian Brandt. Oh! if my borderman would only come!"

Helen changed her position from beside the tree, to the hollow underthe stone. It was high enough to permit of her sitting upright, andoffered a safe retreat from the storm. The bed of leaves was soft andcomfortable. She sat there peering out at the darkening heavens. 

All beneath her, southward and westward was gray twilight. Thesettlement faded from sight; the river grew wan and shadowy. The ruddylight in the west was fast succumbing to the rolling clouds. Darkerand darker it became, until only one break in the overspreading vaporsadmitted the last crimson gleam of sunshine over hills and valley, brightening the river until it resembled a stream of fire. Then thelight failed, the glow faded. The intense blackness of nightprevailed. 

Out of the ebon west came presently another flare of light, a quick, spreading flush, like a flicker from a monster candle; it was followedby a long, low, rumbling roll. 

Helen felt in those intervals of unutterably vast silence, that shemust shriek aloud. The thunder was a friend. She prayed for the stormto break. She had withstood danger and toilsome effort with fortitude;but could not brave this awful, boding, wilderness stillness. 

Flashes of lightning now revealed the rolling, pushing, turbulentclouds, and peals of thunder sounded nearer and louder. 

A long swelling moan, sad, low, like the uneasy sigh of the sea, breathed far in the west. It was the wind, the ominous warning of thestorm. Sheets of light were now mingled with long, straggling ropes offire, and the rumblings were often broken by louder, quickerdetonations. 

Then a period, longer than usual, of inky blackness succeeded thesharp flaring of light. A faint breeze ruffled the leaves of thethicket, and fanned Helen's hot cheek. The moan of the wind becamemore distinct, then louder, and in another instant like the far-offroar of a rushing river. The storm was upon her. Helen shrank closeragainst the stone, and pulled her jacket tighter around hertrembling form. 

A sudden, intense, dazzling, blinding, white light enveloped her. Therocky promontory, the weird, giant chestnut tree, the open plateau, and beyond, the stormy heavens, were all luridly clear in the flash oflightning. She fancied it was possible to see a tall, dark figureemerging from the thicket. As the thunderclap rolled and pealedoverhead, she strained her eyes into the blackness waiting for thenext lightning flash. 

It came with brilliant, dazing splendor. The whole plateau and thicketwere as light as in the day. Close by the stone where she lay creptthe tall, dark figure of an Indian. With starting eyes she saw thefringed clothing, the long, flying hair, and supple body peculiar tothe savage. He was creeping upon her. 

Helen's blood ran cold; terror held her voiceless. She felt herselfsinking slowly down upon the leaves. 

CHAPTER XII

The sun had begun to cast long shadows the afternoon of Helen's huntfor Jonathan, when the borderman, accompanied by Wetzel, led a stringof horses along the base of the very mountain she had ascended. 

"Last night's job was a good one, I ain't gainsayin'; but the redskinI wanted got away, " Wetzel said gloomily. 

"He's safe now as a squirrel in a hole. I saw him dartin' among thetrees with his white eagle feathers stickin' up like a buck's flag, "replied Jonathan. "He can run. If I'd only had my rifle loaded! ButI'm not sure he was that arrow-shootin' Shawnee. "

"It was him. I saw his bow. We ought'er taken more time an' picked himout, " Wetzel replied, shaking his head gravely. "Though mebbe that'dbeen useless. I think he was hidin'. He's precious shy of his redskin. I've been after him these ten year, an' never ketched himnappin' yet. We'd have done much toward snuffin' out Legget an' hisgang if we'd winged the Shawnee. "

"He left a plain trail. "

"One of his tricks. He's slicker on a trail than any other Injun onthe border, unless mebbe it's old Wingenund, the Huron. This Shawnee'dlead us many a mile for nuthin', if we'd stick to his trail. I'm longago used to him. He's doubled like an old fox, run harder'n a skeeredfawn, an', if needs be, he'll lay low as cunnin' buck. I calkilateonce over the mountain, he's made a bee-line east. We'll go on withthe hosses, an' then strike across country to find his trail. "

"It 'pears to me, Lew, that we've taken a long time in makin' a showagainst these hoss-thieves, " said Jonathan. 

"I ain't sayin' much; but I've felt it, " replied Wetzel. 

"All summer, an' nothin' done. It was more luck than sense that we runinto those Injuns with the hosses. We only got three out of four, an'let the best redskin give us the slip. Here fall is nigh on us, withwinter comin' soon, an' still we don't know who's the white traitor inthe settlement. "

"I said it's be a long, an' mebbe, our last trail. "

"Why?"

"Because these fellars red or white, are in with a picked gang of thebest woodsmen as ever outlawed the border. We'll get the Fort Henryhoss-thief. I'll back the bright-eyed lass for that. "

"I haven't seen her lately, an' allow she'd left me word if shelearned anythin'. "

"Wal, mebbe it's as well you hain't seen so much of her. " In silencethey traveled and, arriving at the edge of the meadow, were about tomount two of the horses, when Wetzel said in a sharp tone:

"Look!"

He pointed to a small, well-defined moccasin track in the black earthon the margin of a rill. 

"Lew, it's a woman's, sure's you're born, " declared Jonathan. 

Wetzel knelt and closely examined the footprint; "Yes, a woman's, an'no Injun. "

"What?" Jonathan exclaimed, as he knelt to scrutinize the imprint. 

"This ain't half a day old, " added Wetzel. "An' not a redskin'smoccasin near. What d'you reckon?"

"A white girl, alone, " replied Jonathan as he followed the trail ashort distance along the brook. "See, she's makin' upland. Wetzel, these tracks could hardly be my sister's, an' there's only one othergirl on the border whose feet will match 'em! Helen Sheppard haspassed here, on her way up the mountain to find you or me. "

"I like your reckonin'. "

"She's suddenly discovered somethin', Injuns, hoss-thieves, the FortHenry traitor, or mebbe, an' most likely, some plottin'. Bein' boundto secrecy by me, she's not told my brother. An' it must be call forhurry. She knows we frequent this mountain-top; said Eb told her aboutthe way we get here. "

"I'd calkilate about the same. "

"What'll you do? Go with me after her?" asked Jonathan. 

"I'll take the hosses, an' be at the fort inside of an hour. IfHelen's gone, I'll tell her father you're close on her trail. Nowlisten! It'll be dark soon, an' a storm's comin'. Don't waste time onher trail. Hurry up to the rock. She'll be there, if any lass couldclimb there. If not, come back in the mornin', hunt her trail out, an'find her. I'm thinkin', Jack, we'll find the Shawnee had somethin' todo with this. Whatever happens after I get back to the fort, I'llexpect you hard on my trail. "

Jonathan bounded across the brook and with an easy lope began thegradual ascent. Soon he came upon a winding path. He ran along thisfor perhaps a quarter of an hour, until it became too steep for rapidtraveling, when he settled down to a rapid walk. The forest wasalready dark. A slight rustling of the leaves beneath his feet was theonly sound, except at long intervals the distant rumbling of thunder. 

The mere possibility of Helen's being alone on that mountain seekinghim, made Jonathan's heart beat as it never had before. For weeks hehad avoided her, almost forgot her. He had conquered the strange, yearning weakness which assailed him after that memorable Sunday, andonce more the silent shaded glens, the mystery of the woods, thebreath of his wild, free life had claimed him. But now as thisevidence of her spirit, her recklessness, was before him, and heremembered Betty's avowal, a pain, which was almost physical, tore athis heart. How terrible it would be if she came to her death throughhim! He pictured the big, alluring eyes, the perfect lips, thehaunting face, cold in death. And he shuddered. 

The dim gloom of the woods soon darkened into blackness. The flashesof lightning, momentarily streaking the foliage, or sweeping overheadin pale yellow sheets, aided Jonathan in keeping the trail. 

He gained the plateau just as a great flash illumined it, anddistinctly saw the dark hollow where he had taken refuge in many astorm, and where he now hoped to find the girl. Picking his waycarefully over the sharp, loose stones, he at last put his hand on thehuge rock. Another blue-white, dazzling flash enveloped the scene. 

Under the rock he saw a dark form huddled, and a face as white assnow, with wide, horrified eyes. 

"Lass, " he said, when the thunder had rumbled away. He received noanswer, and called again. Kneeling, he groped about until touchingHelen's dress. He spoke again; but she did not reply. 

Jonathan crawled under the ledge beside the quiet figure. He touchedher hands; they were very cold. Bending over, he was relieved to hearher heart beating. He called her name, but still she made no reply. Dipping his hand into a little rill that ran beside the stone, hebathed her face. Soon she stirred uneasily, moaned, and suddenlysat up. 

"'Tis Jonathan, " he said quickly; "don't be scared. "

Another illuminating flare of lightning brightened the plateau. 

"Oh! thank Heaven!" cried Helen. "I thought you were an Indian!"

Helen sank trembling against the borderman, who enfolded her in hislong arms. Her relief and thankfulness were so great that she couldnot speak. Her hands clasped and unclasped round his strong fingers. Her tears flowed freely. 

The storm broke with terrific fury. A seething torrent of rain andhail came with the rushing wind. Great heaven-broad sheets oflightning played across the black dome overhead. Zigzag ropes, steel-blue in color, shot downward. Crash, and crack, and boom thethunder split and rolled the clouds above. The lightning flashesshowed the fall of rain in columns like white waterfalls, borne on theirresistible wind. 

The grandeur of the storm awed, and stilled Helen's emotion. She satthere watching the lightning, listening to the peals of thunder, andthrilling with the wonder of the situation. 

Gradually the roar abated, the flashes became less frequent, thethunder decreased, as the storm wore out its strength in passing. Thewind and rain ceased on the mountain-top almost as quickly as they hadbegun, and the roar died slowly away in the distance. Far to theeastward flashes of light illumined scowling clouds, and brightenedmany a dark, wooded hill and valley. 

"Lass, how is't I find you here?" asked Jonathan gravely. 

With many a pause and broken phrase, Helen told the story of what shehad seen and heard at the spring. 

"Child, why didn't you go to my brother?" asked Jonathan. "You don'tknow what you undertook!"

"I thought of everything; but I wanted to find you myself. Besides, Iwas just as safe alone on this mountain as in the village. "

"I don't know but you're right, " replied Jonathan thoughtfully. "SoBrandt planned to make off with you to-morrow?"

"Yes, and when I heard it I wanted to run away from the village. "

"You've done a wondrous clever thing, lass. This Brandt is a bad man, an' hard to match. But if he hasn't shaken Fort Henry by now, hiscareer'll end mighty sudden, an' his bad trails stop short on thehillside among the graves, for Eb will always give outlaws or Injunsdecent burial. "

"What will the colonel, or anyone, think has become of me?"

"Wetzel knows, lass, for he found your trail below. "

"Then he'll tell papa you came after me? Oh! poor papa! I forgot him. Shall we stay here until daylight?"

"We'd gain nothin' by startin' now. The brooks are full, an' in thedark we'd make little distance. You're dry here, an' comfortable. What's more, lass, you're safe. "

"I feel perfectly safe, with you, " Helen said softly. 

"Aren't you tired, lass?"

"Tired? I'm nearly dead. My feet are cut and bruised, my wrist issprained, and I ache all over. But, Jonathan, I don't care. I am sohappy to have my wild venture turn out successfully. "

"You can lie here an' sleep while I keep watch. "

Jonathan made a move to withdraw his arm, which was still betweenHelen and the rock but had dropped from her waist. 

"I am very comfortable. I'll sit here with you, watching for daybreak. My! how dark it is! I cannot see my hand before my eyes. "

Helen settled herself back upon the stone, leaned a very littleagainst his shoulder, and tried to think over her adventure. But hermind refused to entertain any ideas, except those of the present. Mingled with the dreamy lassitude that grew stronger every moment, wasa sense of delight in her situation. She was alone on a wild mountain, in the night, with this borderman, the one she loved. By chance andher own foolhardiness this had come about, yet she was fortunate tohave it tend to some good beyond her own happiness. All she wouldsuffer from her perilous climb would be aching bones, and, perhaps, ascolding from her father. What she might gain was more than she haddared hope. The breaking up of the horse-thief gang would be a boon tothe harassed settlement. How proudly Colonel Zane would smile! Hername would go on that long roll of border honor and heroism. That wasnot, however, one thousandth part so pleasing, as to be alone with herborderman. 

With a sigh of mingled weariness and content, Helen leaned her head onJonathan's shoulder and fell asleep. 

The borderman trembled. The sudden nestling of her head against him, the light caress of her fragrant hair across his cheek, revived asweet, almost-conquered, almost-forgotten emotion. He felt aninexplicable thrill vibrate through him. No untrodden, ambushed wild, no perilous trail, no dark and bloody encounter had ever made him feelfear as had the kiss of this maiden. He had sternly silenced faint, unfamiliar, yet tender, voices whispering in his heart; and now hisrigorous discipline was as if it were not, for at her touch hetrembled. Still he did not move away. He knew she had succumbed toweariness, and was fast asleep. He could, gently, without awakeningher, have laid her head upon the pillow of leaves; indeed, he thoughtof doing it, but made no effort. A woman's head softly lying againsthim was a thing novel, strange, wonderful. For all the power he hadthen, each tumbling lock of her hair might as well have been a chainlinking him fast to the mountain. 

With the memory of his former yearning, unsatisfied moods, and theunrest and pain his awakening tenderness had caused him, came adetermination to look things fairly in the face, to be just in thoughttoward this innocent, impulsive girl, and be honest with himself. 

Duty commanded that he resist all charm other than that pertaining tohis life in the woods. Years ago he had accepted a borderman'sdestiny, well content to be recompensed by its untamed freedom fromrestraint; to be always under the trees he loved so well; to lend hiscunning and woodcraft in the pioneer's cause; to haunt the savagetrails; to live from day to day a menace to the foes of civilization. That was the life he had chosen; it was all he could ever have. 

In view of this, justice demanded that he allow no friendship tospring up between himself and this girl. If his sister's belief wasreally true, if Helen really was interested in him, it must be aromantic infatuation which, not encouraged, would wear itself out. What was he, to win the love of any girl? An unlettered borderman, whoknew only the woods, whose life was hard and cruel, whose hands werered with Indian blood, whose vengeance had not spared men even of hisown race. He could not believe she really loved him. Wildly impulsiveas girls were at times, she had kissed him. She had been grateful, carried away by a generous feeling for him as the protector of herfather. When she did not see him for a long time, as he vowed shouldbe the case after he had carried her safely home, she would forget. 

Then honesty demanded that he probe his own feelings. Sternly, as ifjudging a renegade, he searched out in his simple way the truth. Thisbig-eyed lass with her nameless charm would bewitch even a borderman, unless he avoided her. So much he had not admitted until now. Love hehad never believed could be possible for him. When she fell asleep herhand had slipped from his arm to his fingers, and now rested therelightly as a leaf. The contact was delight. The gentle night breezeblew a tress of hair across his lips. He trembled. Her roundedshoulder pressed against him until he could feel her slow, deepbreathing. He almost held his own breath lest he disturb her rest. 

No, he was no longer indifferent. As surely as those pale starsblinked far above, he knew the delight of a woman's presence. Itmoved him to study the emotion, as he studied all things, which wasthe habit of his borderman's life. Did it come from knowledge of herbeauty, matchless as that of the mountain-laurel? He recalled the darkglance of her challenging eyes, her tall, supple figure, and thebewildering excitation and magnetism of her presence. Beauty waswonderful, but not everything. Beauty belonged to her, but she wouldhave been irresistible without it. Was it not because she was a woman?That was the secret. She was a woman with all a woman's charm tobewitch, to twine round the strength of men as the ivy encircles theoak; with all a woman's weakness to pity and to guard; with all awoman's wilful burning love, and with all a woman's mystery. 

At last so much of life was intelligible to him. The renegadecommitted his worst crimes because even in his outlawed, homelessstate, he could not exist without the companionship, if not the love, of a woman. The pioneer's toil and privation were for a woman, and thejoy of loving her and living for her. The Indian brave, when not onthe war-path, walked hand in hand with a dusky, soft-eyed maiden, andsang to her of moonlit lakes and western winds. Even the birds andbeasts mated. The robins returned to their old nest; the eagles pairedonce and were constant in life and death. The buck followed the doethrough the forest. All nature sang that love made life worth living. Love, then, was everything. 

The borderman sat out the long vigil of the night watching the stars, and trying to decide that love was not for him. If Wetzel had locked asecret within his breast, and never in all these years spoke of it tohis companion, then surely that companion could as well live withoutlove. Stern, dark, deadly work must stain and blot all tenderness fromhis life, else it would be unutterably barren. The joy of living, ofunharassed freedom he had always known. If a fair face and dark, mournful eyes were to haunt him on every lonely trail, then it werebetter an Indian should end his existence. 

The darkest hour before dawn, as well as the darkest of doubt andlonging in Jonathan's life, passed away. A gray gloom obscured thepale, winking stars; the east slowly whitened, then brightened, and atlength day broke misty and fresh. 

The borderman rose to stretch his cramped limbs. When he turned to thelittle cavern the girl's eyes were wide open. All the darkness, theshadow, the beauty, and the thought of the past night, lay in theirblue depths. He looked away across the valley where the sky wasreddening and a pale rim of gold appeared above the hill-tops. 

"Well, if I haven't been asleep!" exclaimed Helen, with a low, softlaugh. 

"You're rested, I hope, " said Jonathan, with averted eyes. He darednot look at her. 

"Oh, yes, indeed. I am ready to start at once. How gray, how beautifulthe morning is! Shall we be long? I hope papa knows. "

In silence the borderman led the way across the rocky plateau, andinto the winding, narrow trail. His pale, slightly drawn and stern, face did not invite conversation, therefore Helen followed silently inhis footsteps. The way was steep, and at times he was forced to lendher aid. She put her hand in his and jumped lightly as a fawn. Presently a brawling brook, over-crowding its banks, impededfurther progress. 

"I'll have to carry you across, " said Jonathan. 

"I'm very heavy, " replied Helen, with a smile in her eyes. 

She flushed as the borderman put his right arm around her waist. Thena clasp as of steel enclosed her; she felt herself swinging easilyinto the air, and over the muddy brook. 

Farther down the mountain this troublesome brook again crossed thetrail, this time much wider and more formidable. Helen looked withsome vexation and embarrassment into the borderman's face. It wasalways the same, stern, almost cold. 

"Perhaps I'd better wade, " she said hesitatingly. 

"Why? The water's deep an' cold. You'd better not get wet. "

Helen flushed, but did not answer. With downcast eyes she let herselfbe carried on his powerful arm. 

The wading was difficult this time. The water foamed furiously aroundhis knees. Once he slipped on a stone, and nearly lost his balance. Uttering a little scream Helen grasped at him wildly, and her armencircled his neck. What was still more trying, when he put her on herfeet again, it was found that her hair had become entangled in theporcupine quills on his hunting-coat. 

She stood before him while with clumsy fingers he endeavored tountangle the shimmering strands; but in vain. Helen unwound the snarlof wavy hair. Most alluring she was then, with a certain softness onher face, and light and laughter, and something warm in her eyes. 

The borderman felt that he breathed a subtle exhilaration whichemanated from her glowing, gracious beauty. She radiated with thegladness of life, with an uncontainable sweetness and joy. But, givingno token of his feeling, he turned to march on down through the woods. 

From this point the trail broadened, descending at an easier angle. Jonathan's stride lengthened until Helen was forced to walk rapidly, and sometimes run, in order to keep close behind him. A quick journeyhome was expedient, and in order to accomplish this she would gladlyhave exerted herself to a greater extent. When they reached the endof the trail where the forest opened clear of brush, finally to mergeinto the broad, verdant plain, the sun had chased the mist-clouds fromthe eastern hill-tops, and was gloriously brightening the valley. 

With the touch of sentiment natural to her, Helen gazed backward forone more view of the mountain-top. The wall of rugged rock she had sooften admired from her window at home, which henceforth would everhold a tender place of remembrance in her heart, rose out of agray-blue bank of mist. The long, swelling slope lay clear to thesunshine. With the rays of the sun gleaming and glistening upon thevariegated foliage, and upon the shiny rolling haze above, a beautifulpicture of autumn splendor was before her. Tall pines, here and theretowered high and lonely over the surrounding trees. Their dark, green, graceful heads stood in bold relief above the gold and yellow crestsbeneath. Maples, tinged from faintest pink to deepest rose, added warmcolor to the scene, and chestnuts with their brown-white burrs lentfresher beauty to the undulating slope. 

The remaining distance to the settlement was short. Jonathan spokeonly once to Helen, then questioning her as to where she had left hercanoe. They traversed the meadow, found the boat in the thicket ofwillows, and were soon under the frowning bluff of Fort Henry. Ascending the steep path, they followed the road leading to ColonelZane's cabin. 

A crowd of boys, men and women loitering near the bluff arrestedHelen's attention. Struck by this unusual occurrence, she wonderedwhat was the cause of such idleness among the busy pioneer people. They were standing in little groups. Some made vehement gestures, others conversed earnestly, and yet more were silent. On seeingJonathan, a number shouted and pointed toward the inn. The bordermanhurried Helen along the path, giving no heed to the throng. 

But Helen had seen the cause of all this excitement. At first glanceshe thought Metzar's inn had been burned; but a second later it couldbe seen that the smoke came from a smoldering heap of rubbish in theroad. The inn, nevertheless, had been wrecked. Windows stared withthat vacantness peculiar to deserted houses. The doors were brokenfrom their hinges. A pile of furniture, rude tables, chairs, beds, andother articles, were heaped beside the smoking rubbish. Scatteredaround lay barrels and kegs all with gaping sides and broken heads. Liquor had stained the road, where it had been soaked up by thethirsty dust. 

Upon a shattered cellar-door lay a figure covered with a piece of ragcarpet. When Helen's quick eyes took in this last, she turned away inhorror. That motionless form might be Brandt's. Remorse and womanlysympathy surged over her, for bad as the man had shown himself, he hadloved her. 

She followed the borderman, trying to compose herself. As they nearedColonel Zane's cabin she saw her father, Will, the colonel, Betty, Nell, Mrs. Zane, Silas Zane, and others whom she did not recognize. They were all looking at her. Helen's throat swelled, and her eyesfilled when she got near enough to see her father's haggard, eagerface. The others were grave. She wondered guiltily if she had donemuch wrong. 

In another moment she was among them. Tears fell as her fatherextended his trembling hands to clasp her, and as she hid her burningface on his breast, he cried: "My dear, dear child!" Then Betty gaveher a great hug, and Nell flew about them like a happy bird. ColonelZane's face was pale, and wore a clouded, stern expression. She smiledtimidly at him through her tears. "Well! well! well!" he mused, whilehis gaze softened. That was all he said; but he took her hand and heldit while he turned to Jonathan. 

The borderman leaned on his long rifle, regarding him with expectanteyes. 

"Well, Jack, you missed a little scrimmage this morning. Wetzel got inat daybreak. The storm and horses held him up on the other side of theriver until daylight. He told me of your suspicions, with theadditional news that he'd found a fresh Indian trail on the islandjust across from the inn. We went down not expecting to find any oneawake; but Metzar was hurriedly packing some of his traps. Half adozen men were there, having probably stayed all night. That littleEnglish cuss was one of them, and another, an ugly fellow, a strangerto us, but evidently a woodsman. Things looked bad. Metzar told adecidedly conflicting story. Wetzel and I went outside to talk overthe situation, with the result that I ordered him to clean outthe place. "

Here Colonel Zane paused to indulge in a grim, meaning laugh. 

"Well, he cleaned out the place all right. The ugly stranger gotrattlesnake-mad, and yanked out a big knife. Sam is hitching up theteam now to haul what's left of him up on the hillside. Metzarresisted arrest, and got badly hurt. He's in the guardhouse. Case, whohas been drunk for a week, got in Wetzel's way and was kicked into themiddle of next week. He's been spitting blood for the last hour, but Iguess he's not much hurt. Brandt flew the coop last night. Wetzelfound this hid in his room. "

Colonel Zane took a long, feathered arrow from where it lay on abench, and held it out to Jonathan. 

"The Shawnee signal! Wetzel had it right, " muttered the borderman. 

"Exactly. Lew found where the arrow struck in the wall of Brandt'sroom. It was shot from the island at the exact spot where Lew came toan end of the Indian's trail in the water. "

"That Shawnee got away from us. "

"So Lew said. Well, he's gone now. So is Brandt. We're well rid of thegang, if only we never hear of them again. "

The borderman shook his head. During the colonel's recital his facechanged. The dark eyes had become deadly; the square jaw was shut, thelines of the cheek had grown tense, and over his usually expressivecountenance had settled a chill, lowering shade. 

"Lew thinks Brandt's in with Bing Legget. Well, d--- his blacktraitor heart! He's a good man for the worst and strongest gang thatever tracked the border. "

The borderman was silent; but the furtive, restless shifting of hiseyes over the river and island, hill and valley, spoke more plainlythan words. 

"You're to take his trail at once, " added Colonel Zane. "I had Bessput you up some bread, meat and parched corn. No doubt you'll have along, hard tramp. Good luck. "

The borderman went into the cabin, presently emerging with a buckskinknapsack strapped to his shoulder. He set off eastward with a long, swinging stride. 

The women had taken Helen within the house where, no doubt, they coulddiscuss with greater freedom the events of the previous day. 

"Sheppard, " said Colonel Zane, turning with a sparkle in his eyes. "Brandt was after Helen sure as a bad weed grows fast. And certain asdeath Jonathan and Wetzel will see him cold and quiet back in thewoods. That's a border saying, and it means a good deal. I never sawWetzel so implacable, nor Jonathan so fatally cold but once, and thatwas when Miller, another traitor, much like Brandt, tried to make awaywith Betty. It would have chilled your blood to see Wetzel go at thatfool this morning. Why did he want to pull a knife on the borderman?It was a sad sight. Well, these things are justifiable. We mustprotect ourselves, and above all our women. We've had bad men, and abad man out here is something you cannot yet appreciate, come here andslip into the life of the settlement, because on the border you cannever tell what a man is until he proves himself. There have beenscores of criminals spread over the frontier, and some better men, like Simon Girty, who were driven to outlaw life. Simon must not beconfounded with Jim Girty, absolutely the most fiendish desperado whoever lived. Why, even the Indians feared Jim so much that after hisdeath his skeleton remained unmolested in the glade where he waskilled. The place is believed to be haunted now, by all Indians andmany white hunters, and I believe the bones stand there yet. "

"Stand?" asked Sheppard, deeply interested. 

"Yes, it stands where Girty stood and died, upright against a tree, pinned, pinned there by a big knife. "

"Heavens, man! Who did it?" Sheppard cried in horror. 

Again Colonel Zane's laugh, almost metallic, broke grimly from hislips. 

"Who? Why, Wetzel, of course. Lew hunted Jim Girty five long years. When he caught him--God! I'll tell you some other time. Jonathan sawWetzel handle Jim and his pal, Deering, as if they were mere boys. Well, as I said, the border has had, and still has, its bad men. SimonGirty took McKee and Elliott, the Tories, from Fort Pitt, when hedeserted, and ten men besides. They're all, except those who are dead, outlaws of the worst type. The other bad men drifted out here fromLord only knows where. They're scattered all over. Simon Girty, sincehis crowning black deed, the massacre of the Christian Indians, is inhiding. Bing Legget now has the field. He's a hard nut, a cunningwoodsman, and capable leader who surrounds himself with only the mostdesperate Indians and renegades. Brandt is an agent of Legget's andI'll bet we'll hear from him again. "

CHAPTER XIII

Jonathan traveled toward the east straight as a crow flies. Wetzel'strail as he pursued Brandt had been left designedly plain. Branches ofyoung maples had been broken by the borderman; they were glaringevidences of his passage. On open ground, or through swampy meadows hehad contrived to leave other means to facilitate his comrade'sprogress. Bits of sumach lay strewn along the way, every red, leafybranch a bright marker of the course; crimson maple leaves servedtheir turn, and even long-bladed ferns were scattered at intervals. 

Ten miles east of Fort Henry, at a point where two islands layopposite each other, Wetzel had crossed the Ohio. Jonathan removed hisclothing, and tying these, together with his knapsack, to the rifle, held them above the water while he swam the three narrow channels. Hetook up the trail again, finding here, as he expected, where Brandthad joined the waiting Shawnee chief. The borderman pressed on harderto the eastward. 

About the middle of the afternoon signs betokened that Wetzel and hisquarry were not far in advance. Fresh imprints in the grass; crushedasters and moss, broken branches with unwithered leaves, and plots ofgrassy ground where Jonathan saw that the blades of grass were yetspringing back to their original position, proved to the borderman'spracticed eye that he was close upon Wetzel. 

In time he came to a grove of yellow birch trees. The ground wasnearly free from brush, beautifully carpeted with flowers and ferns, and, except where bushy windfalls obstructed the way, was singularlyopen to the gaze for several hundred yards ahead. 

Upon entering this wood Wetzel's plain, intentional markings becamemanifest, then wavered, and finally disappeared. Jonathan pondered amoment. He concluded that the way was so open and clear, with nothingbut grass and moss to mark a trail, that Wetzel had simply consideredit waste of time for, perhaps, the short length of this grove. 

Jonathan knew he was wrong after taking a dozen steps more. Wetzel'strail, known so well to him, as never to be mistaken, sheered abruptlyoff to the left, and, after a few yards, the distance between thefootsteps widened perceptibly. Then came a point where they were sofar apart that they could only have been made by long leaps. 

On the instant the borderman knew that some unforeseen peril or urgentcause had put Wetzel to flight, and he now bent piercing eyes aroundthe grove. Retracing his steps to where he had found the break in thetrail, he followed up Brandt's tracks for several rods. Not onehundred paces beyond where Wetzel had quit the pursuit, were theremains of a camp fire, the embers still smoldering, and moccasintracks of a small band of Indians. The trail of Brandt and hisShawnee guide met the others at almost right angles. 

The Indian, either by accident or design, had guided Brandt to a bandof his fellows, and thus led Wetzel almost into an ambush. 

Evidence was not clear, however, that the Indians had discovered thekeen tracker who had run almost into their midst. 

While studying the forest ahead Jonathan's mind was running over thepossibilities. How close was Wetzel? Was he still in flight? Had thesavages an inkling of his pursuit? Or was he now working out one ofhis cunning tricks of woodcraft? The borderman had no other idea thanthat of following the trail to learn all this. Taking the desperatechances warranted under the circumstances, he walked boldly forward inhis comrade's footsteps. 

Deep and gloomy was the forest adjoining the birch grove. It was aheavy growth of hardwood trees, interspersed with slender ash andmaples, which with their scanty foliage resembled a labyrinth of greenand yellow network, like filmy dotted lace, hung on the taller, darkeroaks. Jonathan felt safer in this deep wood. He could still seeseveral rods in advance. Following the trail, he was relieved to seethat Wetzel's leaps had become shorter and shorter, until they onceagain were about the length of a long stride. The borderman was, moreover, swinging in a curve to the northeast. This was proof thatthe borderman had not been pursued, but was making a wide detour toget ahead of the enemy. Five hundred yards farther on the trail turnedsharply toward the birch grove in the rear. 

The trail was fresh. Wetzel was possibly within signal call; surelywithin sound of a rifle shot. But even more stirring was thecertainty that Brandt and his Indians were inside the circleWetzel had made. 

Once again in sight of the more open woodland, Jonathan crawled on hishands and knees, keeping close to the cluster of ferns, until wellwithin the eastern end of the grove. He lay for some minuteslistening. A threatening silence, like the hush before a storm, permeated the wilderness. He peered out from his covert; but, owing toits location in a little hollow, he could not see far. Crawling to thenearest tree he rose to his feet slowly, cautiously. 

No unnatural sight or sound arrested his attention. Repeatedly, withthe acute, unsatisfied gaze of the borderman who knew that every tree, every patch of ferns, every tangled brush-heap might harbor a foe, hesearched the grove with his eyes; but the curly-barked birches, theclumps of colored ferns, the bushy windfalls kept their secrets. 

For the borderman, however, the whole aspect of the birch-grove hadchanged. Over the forest was a deep calm. A gentle, barely perceptiblewind sighed among the leaves, like rustling silk. The far-off drowsydrum of a grouse intruded on the vast stillness. The silence of thebirds betokened a message. That mysterious breathing, that beautifullife of the woods lay hushed, locked in a waiting, brooding silence. Far away among the somber trees, where the shade deepened intoimpenetrable gloom, lay a menace, invisible and indefinable. 

A wind, a breath, a chill, terribly potent, seemed to pass over theborderman. Long experience had given him intuition of danger. 

As he moved slightly, with lynx-eyes fixed on the grove before him, asharp, clear, perfect bird-note broke the ominous quiet. It was likethe melancholy cry of an oriole, short, deep, suggestive of lonelyforest dells. By a slight variation in the short call, Jonathanrecognized it as a signal from Wetzel. The borderman smiled as herealized that with all his stealth, Wetzel had heard or seen himre-enter the grove. The signal was a warning to stand stillor retreat. 

Jonathan's gaze narrowed down to the particular point whence had comethe signal. Some two hundred yards ahead in this direction wereseveral large trees standing in a group. With one exception, they allhad straight trunks. This deviated from the others in that itpossessed an irregular, bulging trunk, or else half-shielded the formof Wetzel. So indistinct and immovable was this irregularity, that thewatcher could not be certain. Out of line, somewhat, with this treewhich he suspected screened his comrade, lay a huge windfall largeenough to conceal in ambush a whole band of savages. 

Even as he gazed a sheet of flame flashed from this covert. 

_Crack!_

A loud report followed; then the whistle and zip of a bullet as itwhizzed close by his head. 

"Shawnee lead!" muttered Jonathan. 

Unfortunately the tree he had selected did not hide him sufficiently. His shoulders were so wide that either one or the other was exposed, affording a fine target for a marksman. 

A quick glance showed him a change in the knotty tree-trunk; theseeming bulge was now the well-known figure of Wetzel. 

Jonathan dodged as some object glanced slantingly before his eyes. 

_Twang. Whizz. Thud. _ Three familiar and distinct sounds caused him topress hard against the tree. 

A tufted arrow quivered in the bark not a foot from his head. 

"Close shave! Damn that arrow-shootin' Shawnee!" muttered Jonathan. "An' he ain't in that windfall either. " His eyes searched to the leftfor the source of this new peril. 

Another sheet of flame, another report from the windfall. A bulletsang, close overhead, and, glancing on a branch, went harmlessly intothe forest. 

"Injuns all around; I guess I'd better be makin' tracks, " Jonathansaid to himself, peering out to learn if Wetzel was still under cover. 

He saw the tall figure straighten up; a long, black rifle rise to alevel and become rigid; a red fire belch forth, followed by a puff ofwhite smoke. 

_Spang!_

An Indian's horrible, strangely-breaking death yell rent the silence. 

Then a chorus of plaintive howls, followed by angry shouts, rangthrough the forest. Naked, painted savages darted out of the windfalltoward the tree that had sheltered Wetzel. 

Quick as thought Jonathan covered the foremost Indian, and with thecrack of his rifle saw the redskin drop his gun, stop in his mad run, stagger sideways, and fall. Then the borderman looked to see what hadbecome of his ally. The cracking of the Indian's rifle told him thatWetzel had been seen by his foes. 

With almost incredible fleetness a brown figure with long black hairstreaming behind, darted in and out among the trees, flashed throughthe sunlit glade, and vanished in the dark depths of the forest. 

Jonathan turned to flee also, when he heard again the twanging of anIndian's bow. A wind smote his cheek, a shock blinded him, anexcruciating pain seized upon his breast. A feathered arrow had pinnedhis shoulder to the tree. He raised his hand to pull it out; but, slippery with blood, it afforded a poor hold for his fingers. Violently exerting himself, with both hands he wrenched away theweapon. The flint-head lacerating his flesh and scraping his shoulderbones caused sharpest agony. The pain gave away to a sudden sense ofgiddiness; he tried to run; a dark mist veiled his sight; he stumbledand fell. Then he seemed to sink into a great darkness, and knewno more. 

When consciousness returned to Jonathan it was night. He lay on hisback, and knew because of his cramped limbs that he had been securelybound. He saw the glimmer of a fire, but could not raise his head. Arustling of leaves in the wind told that he was yet in the woods, andthe distant rumble of a waterfall sounded familiar. He felt drowsy;his wound smarted slightly, still he did not suffer any pain. Presently he fell asleep. 

Broad daylight had come when again he opened his eyes. The blue skywas directly above, and before him he saw a ledge covered with dwarfedpine trees. He turned his head, and saw that he was in a sort ofamphitheater of about two acres in extent enclosed by low cliffs. Acleft in the stony wall let out a brawling brook, and served, nodoubt, as entrance to the place. Several rude log cabins stood on thatside of the enclosure. Jonathan knew he had been brought to BingLegget's retreat. 

Voices attracted his attention, and, turning his head to the otherside, he saw a big Indian pacing near him, and beyond, seven savagesand three white men reclining in the shade. 

The powerful, dark-visaged savage near him he at once recognized asAshbow, the Shawnee chief, and noted emissary of Bing Legget. Of theother Indians, three were Delawares, and four Shawnees, all veterans, with swarthy, somber faces and glistening heads on which thescalp-locks were trimmed and tufted. Their naked, muscular bodies werepainted for the war-path with their strange emblems of death. A trioof white men, nearly as bronzed as their savage comrades, completedthe group. One, a desperate-looking outlaw, Jonathan did not know. Theblond-bearded giant in the center was Legget. Steel-blue, inhumaneyes, with the expression of a free but hunted animal; a set, mastiff-like jaw, brutal and coarse, individualized him. The last manwas the haggard-faced Brandt. 

"I tell ye, Brandt, I ain't agoin' against this Injun, " Legget wassaying positively. "He's the best reddy on the border, an' has savedme scores of times. This fellar Zane belongs to him, an' while I'dmuch rather see the scout knifed right here an' now, I won't donothin' to interfere with the Shawnee's plans. "

"Why does the redskin want to take him away to his village?" Brandtgrowled. "All Injun vanity and pride. "

"It's Injun ways, an' we can't do nothin' to change 'em. "

"But you're boss here. You could make him put this borderman out ofthe way. "

"Wal, I ain't agoin' ter interfere. Anyways, Brandt, the Shawnee'llmake short work of the scout when he gits him among the tribe. Injunsis Injuns. It's a great honor fer him to git Zane, an' he wants hisown people to figger in the finish. Quite nat'r'l, I reckon. "

"I understand all that; but it's not safe for us, and it's courtingdeath for Ashbow. Why don't he keep Zane here until you can spare morethan three Indians to go with him? These bordermen can't be stopped. You don't know them, because you're new in this part of the country. "

"I've been here as long as you, an' agoin' some, too, I reckon, "replied Legget complacently. 

"But you've not been hunted until lately by these bordermen, andyou've had little opportunity to hear of them except from Indians. What can you learn from these silent redskins? I tell you, lettingthis fellow get out of here alive, even for an hour is a fatalmistake. It's two full days' tramp to the Shawnee village. You don'tsuppose Wetzel will be afraid of four savages? Why, he sneaked rightinto eight of us, when we were ambushed, waiting for him. He killedone and then was gone like a streak. It was only a piece of pure luckwe got Zane. "

"I've reason to know this Wetzel, this Deathwind, as the Delawarescall him. I never seen him though, an' anyways, I reckon I can handlehim if ever I get the chance. "

"Man, you're crazy!" cried Brandt. "He'd cut you to pieces beforeyou'd have time to draw. He could give you a tomahawk, then take itaway and split your head. I tell you I know! You remember JakeDeering? He came from up your way. Wetzel fought Deering and Jim Girtytogether, and killed them. You know how he left Girty. "

"I'll allow he must be a fighter; but I ain't afraid of him. "

"That's not the question. I am talking sense. You've got a chance nowto put one of these bordermen out of the way. Do it quick! That'smy advice. "

Brandt spoke so vehemently that Legget seemed impressed. He strokedhis yellow beard, and puffed thoughtfully on his pipe. Presently headdressed the Shawnee chief in the native tongue. 

"Will Ashbow take five horses for his prisoner?"

The Indian shook his head. 

"How many will he take?"

The chief strode with dignity to and fro before his captive. His dark, impassive face gave no clew to his thoughts; but his lofty bearing, his measured, stately walk were indicative of great pride. Then hespoke in his deep bass:

"The Shawnee knows the woods from the Great Lakes where the sun sets, to the Blue Hills where it rises. He has met the great palefacehunters. Only for Deathwind will Ashbow trade his captive. "

"See? It ain't no use, " said Legget, spreading out his hands, "Let himgo. He'll outwit the bordermen if any redskin's able to. The sooner hegoes the quicker he'll git back, an' we can go to work. You ought'erbe satisfied to git the girl----"

"Shut up!" interrupted Brandt sharply. 

"'Pears to me, Brandt, bein' in love hes kinder worked on your nerves. You used to be game. Now you're afeerd of a bound an' tied man whoain't got long to live. "

"I fear no man, " answered Brandt, scowling darkly. "But I know whatyou don't seem to have sense enough to see. If this Zane gets away, which is probable, he and Wetzel will clean up your gang. "

"Haw! haw! haw!" roared Legget, slapping his knees. "Then you'd hevlittle chanst of gittin' the lass, eh?"

"All right. I've no more to say, " snapped Brandt, rising and turningon his heel. As he passed Jonathan he paused. "Zane, if I could, I'dget even with you for that punch you once gave me. As it is, I'll stopat the Shawnee village on my way west----"

"With the pretty lass, " interposed Legget. 

"Where I hope to see your scalp drying in the chief's lodge. "

The borderman eyed him steadily; but in silence. Words could not sowell have conveyed his thought as did the cold glance of dark scornand merciless meaning. 

Brandt shuffled on with a curse. No coward was he. No man ever saw himflinch. But his intelligence was against him as a desperado. Whilesuch as these bordermen lived, an outlaw should never sleep, for hewas a marked and doomed man. The deadly, cold-pointed flame whichscintillated in the prisoner's eyes was only a gleam of what theborder felt towards outlaws. 

While Jonathan was considering all he had heard, three more Shawneesentered the retreat, and were at once called aside in consultation byAshbow. At the conclusion of this brief conference the chief advancedto Jonathan, cut the bonds round his feet, and motioned for him torise. The prisoner complied to find himself weak and sore, but able towalk. He concluded that his wound, while very painful, was not of aserious nature, and that he would be taken at once on the march towardthe Shawnee village. 

He was correct, for the chief led him, with the three Shawneesfollowing, toward the outlet of the enclosure. Jonathan's sharp eyetook in every detail of Legget's rendezvous. In a corral near theentrance, he saw a number of fine horses, and among them his sister'spony. A more inaccessible, natural refuge than Legget's, could hardlyhave been found in that country. The entrance was a narrow opening inthe wall, and could be held by half a dozen against an army ofbesiegers. It opened, moreover, on the side of a barren hill, fromwhich could be had a good survey of the surrounding forestsand plains. 

As Jonathan went with his captors down the hill his hopes, which whileever alive, had been flagging, now rose. The long journey to theShawnee town led through an untracked wilderness. The Delawarevillages lay far to the north; the Wyandot to the west. No likelihoodwas there of falling in with a band of Indians hunting, because thisregion, stony, barren, and poorly watered, afforded sparse pasture fordeer or bison. From the prisoner's point of view this enterprise ofAshbow's was reckless and vainglorious. Cunning as the chief was, heerred in one point, a great warrior's only weakness, love of show, ofpride, of his achievement. In Indian nature this desire for fame wasas strong as love of life. The brave risked everything to win hiseagle feathers, and the matured warrior found death while keepingbright the glory of the plumes he had won. 

Wetzel was in the woods, fleet as a deer, fierce and fearless as alion. Somewhere among those glades he trod, stealthily, with the earsof a doe and eyes of a hawk strained for sound or sight of hiscomrade's captors. When he found their trail he would stick to it asthe wolf to that of a bleeding buck's. The rescue would not beattempted until the right moment, even though that came withinrifle-shot of the Shawnee encampment. Wonderful as his other gifts, was the borderman's patience. 

CHAPTER XIV

"Good morning, Colonel Zane, " said Helen cheerily, coming into theyard where the colonel was at work. "Did Will come over this way?"

"I reckon you'll find him if you find Betty, " replied Colonel Zanedryly. 

"Come to think of it, that's true, " Helen said, laughing. "I've asuspicion Will ran off from me this morning. "

"He and Betty have gone nutting. "

"I declare it's mean of Will, " Helen said petulantly. "I have beenwanting to go so much, and both he and Betty promised to take me. "

"Say, Helen, let me tell you something, " said the colonel, resting onhis spade and looking at her quizzically. "I told them we hadn't hadenough frost yet to ripen hickory-nuts and chestnuts. But they wentanyhow. Will did remember to say if you came along, to tell you he'dbring the colored leaves you wanted. "

"How extremely kind of him. I've a mind to follow them. " 

"Now see here, Helen, it might be a right good idea for you not to, "returned the colonel, with a twinkle and a meaning in his eye. 

"Oh, I understand. How singularly dull I've been. "

"It's this way. We're mighty glad to have a fine young fellow likeWill come along and interest Betty. Lord knows we had a time with herafter Alfred died. She's just beginning to brighten up now, and, Helen, the point is that young people on the border must get married. No, my dear, you needn't laugh, you'll have to find a husband same asthe other girls. It's not here as it was back east, where a lass mighthave her fling, so to speak, and take her time choosing. An unmarriedgirl on the border is a positive menace. I saw, not many years ago, two first-rate youngsters, wild with border fire and spirit, fight andkill each other over a lass who wouldn't choose. Like as not, if shehad done so, the three would have been good friends, for out herewe're like one big family. Remember this, Helen, and as far as Bettyand Will are concerned you will be wise to follow our example: Leavethem to themselves. Nothing else will so quickly strike fire between aboy and a girl. "

"Betty and Will! I'm sure I'd love to see them care for each other. "Then with big, bright eyes bent gravely on him she continued, "May Iask, Colonel Zane, who you have picked out for me?"

"There, now you've said it, and that's the problem. I've looked overevery marriageable young man in the settlement, except Jack. Ofcourse you couldn't care for him, a borderman, a fighter and all that;but I can't find a fellow I think quite up to you. "

"Colonel Zane, is not a borderman such as Jonathan worthy a woman'sregard?" Helen asked a little wistfully. 

"Bless your heart, lass, yes!" replied Colonel Zane heartily. "Peopleout here are not as they are back east. An educated man, polished andall that, but incapable of hard labor, or shrinking from dirt andsweat on his hands, or even blood, would not help us in the winning ofthe West. Plain as Jonathan is, and with his lack of schooling, he isgreatly superior to the majority of young men on the frontier. But, unlettered or not, he is as fine a man as ever stepped in moccasins, or any other kind of foot gear. "

"Then why did you say--that--what you did?"

"Well, it's this way, " replied Colonel Zane, stealing a glance at herpensive, downcast face. "Girls all like to be wooed. Almost every oneI ever knew wanted the young man of her choice to outstrip all herother admirers, and then, for a spell, nearly die of love for her, after which she'd give in. Now, Jack, being a borderman, a man with nooccupation except scouting, will never look at a girl, let alone makeup to her. I imagine, my dear, it'd take some mighty tall courting tofetch home Helen Sheppard a bride. On the other hand, if some prettyand spirited lass, like, say for instance, Helen Sheppard, would comealong and just make Jack forget Indians and fighting, she'd get thefinest husband in the world. True, he's wild; but only in the woods. Asimpler, kinder, cleaner man cannot be found. "

"I believe that, Colonel Zane; but where is the girl who wouldinterest him?" Helen asked with spirit. "These bordermen areunapproachable. Imagine a girl interesting that great, cold, sternWetzel! All her flatteries, her wiles, the little coquetries thatmight attract ordinary men, would not be noticed by him, orJonathan either. "

"I grant it'd not be easy, but woman was made to subjugate man, andalways, everlastingly, until the end of life here on this beautifulearth, she will do it. "

"Do you think Jonathan and Wetzel will catch Brandt?" asked Helen, changing the subject abruptly. 

"I'd stake my all that this year's autumn leaves will fall on Brandt'sgrave. "

Colonel Zane's calm, matter-of-fact coldness made Helen shiver. 

"Why, the leaves have already begun to fall. Papa told me Brandt hadgone to join the most powerful outlaw band on the border. How canthese two men, alone, cope with savages, as I've heard they do, andbreak up such an outlaw band as Legget's?"

"That's a question I've heard Daniel Boone ask about Wetzel, andBoone, though not a borderman in all the name implies, was a greatIndian fighter. I've heard old frontiersmen, grown grizzled on thefrontier, use the same words. I've been twenty years with that man, yet I can't answer it. Jonathan, of course, is only a shadow of him;Wetzel is the type of these men who have held the frontier for us. Hewas the first borderman, and no doubt he'll be the last. "

"What have Jonathan and Wetzel that other men do not possess?"

"In them is united a marvelously developed woodcraft, with wonderfulphysical powers. Imagine a man having a sense, almost an animalinstinct, for what is going on in the woods. Take for instance thefleetness of foot. That is one of the greatest factors. It isabsolutely necessary to run, to get away when to hold ground would bedeath. Whether at home or in the woods, the bordermen retreat everyday. You wouldn't think they practiced anything of the kind, wouldyou? Well, a man can't be great in anything without keeping at it. Jonathan says he exercises to keep his feet light. Wetzel would justas soon run as walk. Think of the magnificent condition of these men. When a dash of speed is called for, when to be fleet of foot is toelude vengeance-seeking Indians, they must travel as swiftly as thedeer. The Zanes were all sprinters. I could do something of the kind;Betty was fast on her feet, as that old fort will testify until thelogs rot; Isaac was fleet, too, and Jonathan can get over the groundlike a scared buck. But, even so, Wetzel can beat him. "

"Goodness me, Helen!" exclaimed the colonel's buxom wife, from thewindow, "don't you ever get tired hearing Eb talk of Wetzel, and Jack, and Indians? Come in with me. I venture to say my gossip will do youmore good than his stories. "

Therefore Helen went in to chat with Mrs. Zane, for she was alwaysglad to listen to the colonel's wife, who was so bright and pleasant, so helpful and kindly in her womanly way. In the course of theirconversation, which drifted from weaving linsey, Mrs. Zane'soccupation at the tune, to the costly silks and satins of remembereddays, and then to matters of more present interest, Helen spoke ofColonel Zane's hint about Will and Betty. 

"Isn't Eb a terror? He's the worst matchmatcher you ever saw, "declared the colonel's good spouse. 

"There's no harm in that. "

"No, indeed; it's a good thing, but he makes me laugh, and Betty, hesets her furious. "

"The colonel said he had designs on me. "

"Of course he has, dear old Eb! How he'd love to see you happilymarried. His heart is as big as that mountain yonder. He has giventhis settlement his whole life. "

"I believe you. He has such interest, such zeal for everybody. Onlythe other day he was speaking to me of Mr. Mordaunt, telling how sorryhe was for the Englishman, and how much he'd like to help him. It doesseem a pity a man of Mordaunt's blood and attainments should sink toutter worthlessness. "

"Yes, 'tis a pity for any man, blood or no, and the world's full ofsuch wrecks. I always liked that man's looks. I never had a word withhim, of course; but I've seen him often, and something about himappealed to me. I don't believe it was just his handsome face; still Iknow women are susceptible that way. "

"I, too, liked him once as a friend, " said Helen feelingly. "Well, I'mglad he's gone. "

"Gone?"

"Yes, he left Fort Henry yesterday. He came to say good-bye to me, and, except for his pale face and trembling hands, was much as he usedto be in Virginia. Said he was going home to England, and wanted totell me he was sorry--for--for all he'd done to make papa and mesuffer. Drink had broken him, he said, and surely he looked 'a brokenman. I shook hands with him, and then slipped upstairs and cried. "

"Poor fellow!" sighed Mrs. Zane. 

"Papa said he left Fort Pitt with one of Metzar's men as a guide. "

"Then he didn't take the 'little cuss, ' as Eb calls his man Case?"

"No, if I remember rightly papa said Case wouldn't go. "

"I wish he had. He's no addition to our village. "

Voices outside attracted their attention. Mrs. Zane glanced from thewindow and said: "There come Betty and Will. "

Helen went on the porch to see her cousin and Betty entering theyard, and Colonel Zane once again leaning on his spade. 

"Gather any hickory-nuts from birch or any other kind of trees?" askedthe colonel grimly. 

"No, " replied Will cheerily, "the shells haven't opened yet. "

"Too bad the frost is so backward, " said Colonel Zane with a laugh. "But I can't see that it makes any difference. "

"Where are my leaves?" asked Helen, with a smile and a nod to Betty. 

"What leaves?" inquired that young woman, plainly mystified. 

"Why, the autumn leaves Will promised to gather with me, then changedhis mind, and said he'd bring them. "

"I forgot, " Will replied a little awkwardly. 

Colonel Zane coughed, and then, catching Betty's glance, which hadbegun to flash, he plied his spade vigorously. 

Betty's face had colored warmly at her brother's first question; ittoned down slightly when she understood that he was not going to teaseher as usual, and suddenly, as she looked over his head, it paledwhite as snow. 

"Eb, look down the lane!" she cried. 

Two tall men were approaching with labored tread, one half-supportinghis companion. 

"Wetzel! Jack! and Jack's hurt!" cried Betty. 

"My dear, be calm, " said Colonel Zane, in that quiet tone he alwaysused during moments of excitement. He turned toward the bordermen, andhelped Wetzel lead Jonathan up the walk into the yard. 

From Wetzel's clothing water ran, his long hair was disheveled, hisaspect frightful. Jonathan's face was white and drawn. His buckskinhunting coat was covered with blood, and the hand which he heldtightly against his left breast showed dark red stains. 

Helen shuddered. Almost fainting, she leaned against the porch, toohorrified to cry out, with contracting heart and a chill stealingthrough her veins. 

"Jack! Jack!" cried Betty, in agonized appeal. 

"Betty, it's nothin', " said Wetzel. 

"Now, Betts, don't be scared of a little blood, " Jonathan said with afaint smile flitting across his haggard face. 

"Bring water, shears an' some linsey cloth, " added Wetzel, as Mrs. Zane came running out. 

"Come inside, " cried the colonel's wife, as she disappeared againimmediately. 

"No, " replied the borderman, removing his coat, and, with theassistance of his brother, he unlaced his hunting shirt, pulling itdown from a wounded shoulder. A great gory hole gaped just beneath hisleft collar-bone. 

Although stricken with fear, when Helen saw the bronzed, massiveshoulder, the long, powerful arm with its cords of muscles playingunder the brown skin, she felt a thrill of admiration. 

"Just missed the lung, " said Mrs. Zane. "Eb, no bullet ever made thathole. "

Wetzel washed the bloody wound, and, placing on it a wad of leaves hetook from his pocket, bound up the shoulder tightly. 

"What made that hole?" asked Colonel Zane. 

Wetzel lifted the quiver of arrows Jonathan had laid on the porch, and, selecting one, handed it to the colonel. The flint-head and aportion of the shaft were stained with blood. 

"The Shawnee!" exclaimed Colonel Zane. Then he led Wetzel aside, andbegan conversing in low tones while Jonathan, with Betty holding hisarm, ascended the steps and went within the dwelling. 

Helen ran home, and, once in her room, gave vent to her emotions. Shecried because of fright, nervousness, relief, and joy. Then she bathedher face, tried to rub some color into her pale cheeks, and set aboutgetting dinner as one in a trance. She could not forget that broadshoulder with its frightful wound. What a man Jonathan must be toreceive a blow like that and live! Exhausted, almost spent, had beenhis strength when he reached home, yet how calm and cool he was! Whatwould she not have given for the faint smile that shone in his eyesfor Betty?

The afternoon was long for Helen. When at last supper was over shechanged her gown, and, asking Will to accompany her, went down thelane toward Colonel Zane's cabin. At this hour the colonel almostinvariably could be found sitting on his doorstep puffing a longIndian pipe, and gazing with dreamy eyes over the valley. 

"Well, well, how sweet you look!" he said to Helen; then with a winkof his eyelid, "Hello, Willie, you'll find Elizabeth insidewith Jack. "

"How is he?" asked Helen eagerly, as Will with a laugh and a retortmounted the steps. 

"Jack's doing splendidly. He slept all day. I don't think his injuryamounts to much, at least not for such as him or Wetzel. It would havefinished ordinary men. Bess says if complications don't set in, blood-poison or something to start a fever, he'll be up shortly. Wetzel believes the two of 'em will be on the trail inside of a week. "

"Did they find Brandt?" asked Helen in a low voice. 

"Yes, they ran him to his hole, and, as might have been expected, itwas Bing Legget's camp. The Indians took Jonathan there. "

"Then Jack was captured?"

Colonel Zane related the events, as told briefly by Wetzel, that hadtaken place during the preceding three days. 

"The Indian I saw at the spring carried that bow Jonathan broughtback. He must have shot the arrow. He was a magnificent savage. "

"He was indeed a great, and a bad Indian, one of the craftiest spieswho ever stepped in moccasins; but he lies quiet now on the moss andthe leaves. Bing Legget will never find another runner like thatShawnee. Let us go indoors. "

He led Helen into the large sitting-room where Jonathan lay on acouch, with Betty and Will sitting beside him. The colonel's wife andchildren, Silas Zane, and several neighbors, were present. 

"Here, Jack, is a lady inquiring after your health. Betts, thisreminds me of the time Isaac came home wounded, after his escape fromthe Hurons. Strikes me he and his Indian bride should be about duehere on a visit. "

Helen forgot every one except the wounded man lying so quiet and paleupon the couch. She looked down upon him with eyes strangely dilated, and darkly bright. 

"How are you?" she asked softly. 

"I'm all right, thank you, lass, " answered Jonathan. 

Colonel Zane contrived, with inimitable skill, to get Betty, Will, Silas, Bessie and the others interested in some remarkable news he hadjust heard, or made up, and this left Jonathan and Helen comparativelyalone for the moment. 

The wise old colonel thought perhaps this might be the right time. Hesaw Helen's face as she leaned over Jonathan, and that was enough forhim. He would have taxed his ingenuity to the utmost to keep theothers away from the young couple. 

"I was so frightened, " murmured Helen. 

"Why?" asked Jonathan. 

"Oh! You looked so deathly--the blood, and that awful wound!"

"It's nothin', lass. "

Helen smiled down upon him. Whether or not the hurt amounted toanything in the borderman's opinion, she knew from his weakness, andhis white, drawn face, that the strain of the march home had beenfearful. His dark eyes held now nothing of the coldness and glitter sonatural to them. They were weary, almost sad. She did not feel afraidof him now. He lay there so helpless, his long, powerful frame asquiet as a sleeping child's! Hitherto an almost indefinable antagonismin him had made itself felt; now there was only gentleness, as of aman too weary to fight longer. Helen's heart swelled with pity, andtenderness, and love. His weakness affected her as had never hisstrength. With an involuntary gesture of sympathy she placed her handsoftly on his. 

Jonathan looked up at her with eyes no longer blind. Pain had softenedhim. For the moment he felt carried out of himself, as it were, andsaw things differently. The melting tenderness of her gaze, theglowing softness of her face, the beauty, bewitched him; and beyondthat, a sweet, impelling gladness stirred within him and would not bedenied. He thrilled as her fingers lightly, timidly touched his, andopened his broad hand to press hers closely and warmly. 

"Lass, " he whispered, with a huskiness and unsteadiness unnatural tohis deep voice. 

Helen bent her head closer to him; she saw his lips tremble, and hisnostrils dilate; but an unutterable sadness shaded the brightnessin his eyes. 

"I love you. "

The low whisper reached Helen's ears. She seemed to float dreamilyaway to some beautiful world, with the music of those words ringing inher ears. She looked at him again. Had she been dreaming? No; his darkeyes met hers with a love that he could no longer deny. An exquisiteemotion, keen, strangely sweet and strong, yet terrible with sharppain, pulsated through her being. The revelation had been too abrupt. It was so wonderfully different from what she had ever dared hope. Shelowered her head, trembling. 

The next moment she felt Colonel Zane's hand on her chair, and heardhim say in a cheery voice:

"Well, well, see here, lass, you mustn't make Jack talk too much. Seehow white and tired he looks. "

CHAPTER XV

In forty-eight hours Jonathan Zane was up and about the cabin asthough he had never been wounded; the third day he walked to thespring; in a week he was waiting for Wetzel, ready to go on the trail. 

On the eighth day of his enforced idleness, as he sat with Betty andthe colonel in the yard, Wetzel appeared on a ridge east of the fort. Soon he rounded the stockade fence, and came straight toward them. ToColonel Zane and Betty, Wetzel's expression was terrible. The sternkindliness, the calm, though cold, gravity of his countenance, as theyusually saw it, had disappeared. Yet it showed no trace of hisunnatural passion to pursue and slay. No doubt that terribleinstinct, or lust, was at white heat; but it wore a mask ofimpenetrable stone-gray gloom. 

Wetzel spoke briefly. After telling Jonathan to meet him at sunset onthe following day at a point five miles up the river, he reported tothe colonel that Legget with his band had left their retreat, movingsouthward, apparently on a marauding expedition. Then he shook handswith Colonel Zane and turned to Betty. 

"Good-bye, Betty, " he said, in his deep, sonorous voice. 

"Good-bye, Lew, " answered Betty slowly, as if surprised. "God saveyou, " she added. 

He shouldered his rifle, and hurried down the lane, halting beforeentering the thicket that bounded the clearing, to look back at thesettlement. In another moment his dark figure had disappeared amongthe bushes. 

"Betts, I've seen Wetzel go like that hundreds of times, though henever shook hands before; but I feel sort of queer about it now. Wasn't he strange?"

Betty did not answer until Jonathan, who had started to go within, wasout of hearing. 

"Lew looked and acted the same the morning he struck Miller's trail, "Betty replied in a low voice. "I believe, despite his indifference todanger, he realizes that the chances are greatly against him, as theywere when he began the trailing of Miller, certain it would lead himinto Girty's camp. Then I know Lew has an affection for us, though itis never shown in ordinary ways. I pray he and Jack will comehome safe. "

"This is a bad trail they're taking up; the worst, perhaps, in borderwarfare, " said Colonel Zane gloomily. "Did you notice how Jack's facedarkened when his comrade came? Much of this borderman-life of his isdue to Wetzel's influence. "

"Eb, I'll tell you one thing, " returned Betty, with a flash of herold spirit. "This is Jack's last trail. "

"Why do you think so?"

"If he doesn't return he'll be gone the way of all bordermen; but ifhe comes back once more he'll never get away from Helen. "

"Ugh!" exclaimed Zane, venting his pleasure in characteristic Indianway. 

"That night after Jack came home wounded, " continued Betty, "I sawhim, as he lay on the couch, gaze at Helen. Such a look! Eb, shehas won. "

"I hope so, but I fear, I fear, " replied her brother gloomily. "Ifonly he returns, that's the thing! Betts, be sure he sees Helen beforehe goes away. "

"I shall try. Here he comes now, " said Betty. 

"Hello, Jack!" cried the colonel, as his brother came out in somewhatof a hurry. "What have you got? By George! It's that blamed arrow theShawnee shot into you. Where are you going with it? What thedeuce--Say--Betts, eh?"

Betty had given him a sharp little kick. 

The borderman looked embarrassed. He hesitated and flushed. Evidentlyhe would have liked to avoid his brother's question; but the inquirycame direct. Dissimulation with him was impossible. 

"Helen wanted this, an' I reckon that's where I'm goin' with it, " hesaid finally, and walked away. 

"Eb, you're a stupid!" exclaimed Betty. 

"Hang it! Who'd have thought he was going to give her that blamed, bloody arrow?"

As Helen ushered Jonathan, for the first time, into her cosy littlesitting-room, her heart began to thump so hard she could hear it. 

She had not seen him since the night he whispered the words which gavesuch happiness. She had stayed at home, thankful beyond expression tolearn every day of his rapid improvement, living in the sweetness ofher joy, and waiting for him. And now as he had come, so dark, sograve, so unlike a lover to woo, that she felt a chill steal over her. 

"I'm so glad you've brought the arrow, " she faltered, "for, of course, coming so far means that you're well once more. "

"You asked me for it, an' I've fetched it over. To-morrow I'm off on atrail I may never return from, " he answered simply, and his voiceseemed cold. 

An immeasurable distance stretched once more between them. Helen'shappiness slowly died. 

"I thank you, " she said with a voice that was tremulous despite allher efforts. 

"It's not much of a keepsake. "

"I did not ask for it as a keepsake, but because--because I wanted it. I need nothing tangible to keep alive my memory. A few words whisperedto me not many days ago will suffice for remembrance--or--or did Idream them?"

Bitter disappointment almost choked Helen. This was not the gentle, soft-voiced man who had said he loved her. It was the indifferentborderman. Again he was the embodiment of his strange, quiet woods. Once more he seemed the comrade of the cold, inscrutable Wetzel. 

"No, lass, I reckon you didn't dream, " he replied. 

Helen swayed from sick bitterness and a suffocating sense of pain, back to her old, sweet, joyous, tumultuous heart-throbbing. 

"Tell me, if I didn't dream, " she said softly, her face flashing warmagain. She came close to him and looked up with all her heart in hergreat dark eyes, and love trembling on her red lips. 

Calmness deserted the borderman after one glance at her. He paced thefloor; twisted and clasped his hands while his eyes gleamed. 

"Lass, I'm only human, " he cried hoarsely, facing her again. 

But only for a moment did he stand before her; but it was long enoughfor him to see her shrink a little, the gladness in her eyes givingway to uncertainty and a fugitive hope. Suddenly he began to pace theroom again, and to talk incoherently. With the flow of words hegradually grew calmer, and, with something of his natural dignity, spoke more rationally. 

"I said I loved you, an' it's true, but I didn't mean to speak. Ioughtn't have done it. Somethin' made it so easy, so natural like. I'dhave died before letting you know, if any idea had come to me of whatI was sayin'. I've fought this feelin' for months. I allowed myself tothink of you at first, an' there's the wrong. I went on the trail withyour big eyes pictured in my mind, an' before I'd dreamed of it you'dcrept into my heart. Life has never been the same since--that kiss. Betty said as how you cared for me, an' that made me worse, only Inever really believed. Today I came over here to say good-bye, expectin' to hold myself well in hand; but the first glance of youreyes unmans me. Nothin' can come of it, lass, nothin' but trouble. Even if you cared, an' I don't dare believe you do, nothin' can comeof it! I've my own life to live, an' there's no sweetheart in it. Mebbe, as Lew says, there's one in Heaven. Oh! girl, this has beenhard on me. I see you always on my lonely tramps; I see your gloriouseyes in the sunny fields an' in the woods, at gray twilight, an' whenthe stars shine brightest. They haunt me. Ah! you're the sweetestlass as ever tormented a man, an' I love you, I love you!"

He turned to the window only to hear a soft, broken cry, and a flurryof skirts. A rush of wind seemed to envelop him. Then two soft, rounded arms encircled his neck, and a golden head lay on his breast. 

"My borderman! My hero! My love!"

Jonathan clasped the beautiful, quivering girl to his heart. 

"Lass, for God's sake don't say you love me, " he implored, thrillingwith contact of her warm arms. 

"Ah!" she breathed, and raised her head. Her radiant eyes darklywonderful with unutterable love, burned into his. 

He had almost pressed his lips to the sweet red ones so near his, whenhe drew back with a start, and his frame straightened. 

"Am I a man, or only a coward?" he muttered. "Lass, let me think. Don't believe I'm harsh, nor cold, nor nothin' except that I want todo what's right. "

He leaned out of the window while Helen stood near him with a hand onhis quivering shoulder. When at last he turned, his face wascolorless, white as marble, and sad, and set, and stern. 

"Lass, it mustn't be; I'll not ruin your life. "

"But you will if you give me up. "

"No, no, lass. "

"I cannot live without you. "

"You must. My life is not mine to give. "

"But you love me. "

"I am a borderman. "

"I will not live without you. "

"Hush! lass, hush!"

"I love you. "

Jonathan breathed hard; once more the tremor, which seemed pitiful insuch a strong man, came upon him. His face was gray. 

"I love you, " she repeated, her rich voice indescribably deep andfull. She opened wide her arms and stood before him with heavingbosom, with great eyes dark with woman's sadness, passionate withwoman's promise, perfect in her beauty, glorious in her abandonment. 

The borderman bowed and bent like a broken reed. 

"Listen, " she whispered, coming closer to him, "go if you must leaveme; but let this be your last trail. Come back to me, Jack, come backto me! You have had enough of this terrible life; you have won a namethat will never be forgotten; you have done your duty to the border. The Indians and outlaws will be gone soon. Take the farm your brotherwants you to have, and live for me. We will be happy. I shall learn tokeep your home. Oh! my dear, I will recompense you for the loss of allthis wild hunting and fighting. Let me persuade you, as much for yoursake as for mine, for you are my heart, and soul, and life. Go outupon your last trail, Jack, and come back to me. "

"An' let Wetzel go always alone?"

"He is different; he lives only for revenge. What are those poorsavages to you? You have a better, nobler life opening. "

"Lass, I can't give him up. "

"You need not; but give up this useless seeking of adventure. That, you know, is half a borderman's life. Give it up, Jack, it not foryour own, then for my sake. "

"No-no-never-I can't-I won't be a coward! After all these years Iwon't desert him. No-no----"

"Do not say more, " she pleaded, stealing closer to him until she wasagainst his breast. She slipped her arms around his neck. For love andmore than life she was fighting now. "Good-bye, my love. " She kissedhim, a long, lingering pressure of her soft full lips on his. "Dearest, do not shame me further. Dearest Jack, come back to me, forI love you. "

She released him, and ran sobbing from the room. 

Unsteady as a blind man, he groped for the door, found it, and wentout. 

CHAPTER XVI

The longest day in Jonathan Zane's life, the oddest, the most terribleand complex with unintelligible emotions, was that one in which helearned that the wilderness no longer sufficed for him. 

He wandered through the forest like a man lost, searching for, he knewnot what. Rambling along the shady trails he looked for thatcontentment which had always been his, but found it not. He plungedinto the depths of deep, gloomy ravines; into the fastnesses ofheavy-timbered hollows where the trees hid the light of day; he soughtthe open, grassy hillsides, and roamed far over meadow and plain. Yetsomething always eluded him. The invisible and beautiful life of allinanimate things sang no more in his heart. The springy moss, thequivering leaf, the tell-tale bark of the trees, the limpid, misty, eddying pools under green banks, the myriads of natural objects fromwhich he had learned so much, and the manifold joyous life around him, no longer spoke with soul-satisfying faithfulness. The environment ofhis boyish days, of his youth, and manhood, rendered not a sweetnessas of old. 

His intelligence, sharpened by the pain of new experience, told himhe had been vain to imagine that he, because he was a borderman, couldescape the universal destiny of human life. Dimly he could feel thebroadening, the awakening into a fuller existence, but he did notwelcome this new light. He realized that men had always turned, atsome time in their lives, to women even as the cypress leans towardthe sun. This weakening of the sterner stuff in him; this softening ofhis heart, and especially the inquietude, and lack of joy and harmonyin his old pursuits of the forest trails bewildered him, and troubledhim some. Thousands of times his borderman's trail had been crossed, yet never to his sorrow until now when it had been crossed by a woman. 

Sick at heart, hurt in his pride, darkly savage, sad, remorseful, andthrilling with awakened passion, all in turn, he roamed the woodlandunconsciously visiting the scenes where he had formerly foundcontentment. 

He paused by many a shady glen, and beautiful quiet glade; by graycliffs and mossy banks, searching with moody eyes for the spirit whichevaded him. 

Here in the green and golden woods rose before him a rugged, giantrock, moss-stained, and gleaming with trickling water. Tangled fernsdressed in autumn's russet hue lay at the base of the green-graycliff, and circled a dark, deep pool dotted with yellow leaves. Half-way up, the perpendicular ascent was broken by a protruding ledgeupon which waved broad-leaved plants and rusty ferns. Above, the cliffsheered out with many cracks and seams in its weather-beaten front. 

The forest grew to the verge of the precipice. A full foliaged oak anda luxuriant maple, the former still fresh with its dark green leaves, the latter making a vivid contrast with its pale yellow, purple-red, and orange hues, leaned far out over the bluff. A mighty chestnutgrasped with gnarled roots deep into the broken cliff. Dainty plumesof goldenrod swayed on the brink; red berries, amber moss, and greentrailing vines peeped over the edge, and every little niche and crannysported fragile ferns and pale-faced asters. A second cliff, higherthan the first, and more heavily wooded, loomed above, and over itsprayed a transparent film of water, thin as smoke, and iridescent inthe sunshine. Far above where the glancing rill caressed the mossycliff and shone like gleaming gold against the dark branches withtheir green and red and purple leaves, lay the faint blue of the sky. 

Jonathan pulled on down the stream with humbler heart. His favoritewaterfall had denied him. The gold that had gleamed there was hissweetheart's hair; the red was of her lips; the dark pool with itslights and shades, its unfathomable mystery, was like her eyes. 

He came at length to another scene of milder aspect. An open gladewhere the dancing, dimpling brook raced under dark hemlocks, and whereblood-red sumach leaves, and beech leaves like flashes of sunshine, lay against the green. Under a leaning birch he found a patch ofpurple asters, and a little apart from them, by a mossy stone, alonely fringed gentian. Its deep color brought to him the dark blueeyes that haunted him, and once again, like one possessed of an evilspirit, he wandered along the merry water-course. 

But finally pain and unrest left him. When he surrendered to his love, peace returned. Though he said in his heart that Helen was not forhim, he felt he did not need to torture himself by fighting againstresistless power. He could love her without being a coward. He wouldtake up his life where it had been changed, and live it, carrying thisbitter-sweet burden always. 

Memory, now that he admitted himself conquered, made a toy of him, bringing the sweetness of fragrant hair, and eloquent eyes, andclinging arms, and dewy lips. A thousand-fold harder to fight thanpain was the seductive thought that he had but to go back to Helen tofeel again the charm of her presence, to see the grace of her person, to hear the music of her voice, to have again her lips on his. 

Jonathan knew then that his trial had but begun; that the pain andsuffering of a borderman's broken pride and conquered spirit wasnothing; that to steel his heart against the joy, the sweetness, thelonging of love was everything. 

So a tumult raged within his heart. No bitterness, nor wretchednessstabbed him as before, but a passionate yearning, born of memory, andunquenchable as the fires of the sun, burned there. 

Helen's reply to his pale excuses, to his duty, to his life, was thatshe loved him. The wonder of it made him weak. Was not her answerenough? "I love you!" Three words only; but they changed the world. Abeautiful girl loved him, she had kissed him, and his life could neveragain be the same. She had held out her arms to him--and he, cold, churlish, unfeeling brute, had let her shame herself, fighting for herhappiness, for the joy that is a woman's divine right. He had beenblind; he had not understood the significance of her gracious action;he had never realized until too late, what it must have cost her, whatheartburning shame and scorn his refusal brought upon her. If she everlooked tenderly at him again with her great eyes; or leaned toward himwith her beautiful arms outstretched, he would fall at her feet andthrow his duty to the winds, swearing his love was hers always and hislife forever. 

So love stormed in the borderman's heart. 

Slowly the melancholy Indian-summer day waned as Jonathan strode outof the woods into a plain beyond, where he was to meet Wetzel atsunset. A smoky haze like a purple cloud lay upon the gently wavinggrass. He could not see across the stretch of prairie-land, though atthis point he knew it was hardly a mile wide. With the trilling of thegrasshoppers alone disturbing the serene quiet of this autumnafternoon, all nature seemed in harmony with the declining season. Hestood a while, his thoughts becoming the calmer for the silence andloneliness of this breathing meadow. 

When the shadows of the trees began to lengthen, and to steal far outover the yellow grass, he knew the time had come, and glided out uponthe plain. He crossed it, and sat down upon a huge stone which laywith one shelving end overhanging the river. 

Far in the west the gold-red sun, too fiery for his direct gaze, lostthe brilliance of its under circle behind the fringe of the woodedhill. Slowly the red ball sank. When the last bright gleam hadvanished in the dark horizon Jonathan turned to search wood and plain. Wetzel was to meet him at sunset. Even as his first glance sweptaround a light step sounded behind him. He did not move, for that stepwas familiar. In another moment the tall form of Wetzel stoodbeside him. 

"I'm about as much behind as you was ahead of time, " said Wetzel. "We'll stay here fer the night, an' be off early in the mornin'. "

Under the shelving side of the rock, and in the shade of the thicket, the bordermen built a little fire and roasted strips of deer-meat. Then, puffing at their long pipes they sat for a long time in silence, while twilight let fall a dark, gray cloak over river and plain. 

"Legget's move up the river was a blind, as I suspected, " saidWetzel, presently. "He's not far back in the woods from here, an'seems to be waitin' fer somethin' or somebody. Brandt an' sevenredskins are with him. We'd hev a good chance at them in the mornin';now we've got 'em a long ways from their camp, so we'll wait, an' seewhat deviltry they're up to. "

"Mebbe he's waitin' for some Injun band, " suggested Jonathan. 

"Thar's redskins in the valley an' close to him; but I reckon he'sbarkin' up another tree. "

"Suppose we run into some of these Injuns?"

"We'll hev to take what comes, " replied Wetzel, lying down on a bed ofleaves. 

When darkness enveloped the spot Wetzel lay wrapped in deep slumber, while Jonathan sat against the rock, watching the last flickerings ofthe camp-fire. 

CHAPTER XVII

Will and Helen hurried back along the river road. Beguiled by the softbeauty of the autumn morning they ventured farther from the fort thanever before, and had been suddenly brought to a realization of thefact by a crackling in the underbrush. Instantly their minds revertedto bears and panthers, such as they had heard invested the thicketsround the settlement. 

"Oh! Will! I saw a dark form stealing along in the woods from tree totree!" exclaimed Helen in a startled whisper. 

"So did I. It was an Indian, or I never saw one. Walk faster. Onceround the bend in the road we'll be within sight of the fort; thenwe'll run, " replied Will. He had turned pale, but maintained hiscomposure. 

They increased their speed, and had almost come up to the curve in theroad, marked by dense undergrowth on both sides, when the branches inthe thicket swayed violently, a sturdy little man armed with a musketappeared from among them. 

"Avast! Heave to!" he commanded in a low, fierce voice, leveling hisweapon. "One breeze from ye, an' I let sail this broadside. "

"What do you want? We have no valuables, " said Will, speaking low. 

Helen stared at the little man. She was speechless with terror. Itflashed into her mind as soon as she recognized the red, evil face ofthe sailor, that he was the accomplice upon whom Brandt had told Metzarhe could rely. 

"Shut up! It's not ye I want, nor valuables, but this wench, " growledCase. He pushed Will around with the muzzle of the musket, whichaction caused the young man to turn a sickly white and shrinkinvoluntarily with fear. The hammer of the musket was raised, andmight fall at the slightest jar. 

"For God's sake! Will, do as he says, " cried Helen, who saw murder inCase's eyes. Capture or anything was better than sacrifice of life. 

"March!" ordered Case, with the musket against Will's back. 

Will hurriedly started forward, jostling Helen, who had preceded him. He was forced to hurry, because every few moments Case pressed the gunto his back or side. 

Without another word the sailor marched them swiftly along the road, which now narrowed down to a trail. His intention, no doubt, was toput as much distance between him and the fort as was possible. Nomore than a mile had been thus traversed when two Indians steppedinto view. 

"My God! My God!" cried Will as the savages proceeded first to bindHelen's arms behind her, and then his in the same manner. After thisthe journey was continued in silence, the Indians walking beside theprisoners, and Case in the rear. 

Helen was so terrified that for a long time she could not thinkcoherently. It seemed as if she had walked miles, yet did not feeltired. Always in front wound the narrow, leaf-girt trail, and to theleft the broad river gleamed at intervals through open spaces in thethickets. Flocks of birds rose in the line of march. They seemed tame, and uttered plaintive notes as if in sympathy. 

About noon the trail led to the river bank. One of the savagesdisappeared in a copse of willows, and presently reappeared carrying abirch-bark canoe. Case ordered Helen and Will into the boat, got inhimself, and the savages, taking stations at bow and stern, paddledout into the stream. They shot over under the lee of an island, arounda rocky point, and across a strait to another island. Beyond this theygained the Ohio shore, and beached the canoe. 

"Ahoy! there, cap'n, " cried Case, pushing Helen up the bank beforehim, and she, gazing upward, was more than amazed to see Mordauntleaning against a tree. 

"Mordaunt, had you anything to do with this?" cried Helenbreathlessly. 

"I had all to do with it, " answered the Englishman. 

"What do you mean?"

He did not meet her gaze, nor make reply; but turned to address a fewwords in a low tone to a white man sitting on a log. 

Helen knew she had seen this person before, and doubted not he wasone of Metzar's men. She saw a rude, bark lean-to, the remains of acamp-fire, and a pack tied in blankets. Evidently Mordaunt and his menhad tarried here awaiting such developments as had come to pass. 

"You white-faced hound!" hissed Will, beside himself with rage when herealized the situation. Bound though he was, he leaped up and tried toget at Mordaunt. Case knocked him on the head with the handle of hisknife. Will fell with blood streaming from a cut over the temple. 

The dastardly act aroused all Helen's fiery courage. She turned to theEnglishman with eyes ablaze. 

"So you've at last found your level. Border-outlaw! Kill me at once. I'd rather be dead than breathe the same air with such a coward!"

"I swore I'd have you, if not by fair means then by foul, " heanswered, with dark and haggard face. 

"What do you intend to do with me now that I am tied?" she demandedscornfully. 

"Keep you a prisoner in the woods till you consent to marry me. "

Helen laughed in scorn. Desperate as was the plight, her naturalcourage had arisen at the cruel blow dealt her cousin, and she facedthe Englishman with flashing eyes and undaunted mien. She saw he wasagain unsteady, and had the cough and catching breath habitual tocertain men under the influence of liquor. She turned her attention toWill. He lay as he had fallen, with blood streaming over his pale faceand fair hair. While she gazed at him Case whipped out his long knife, and looked up at Mordaunt. 

"Cap'n, I'd better loosen a hatch fer him, " he said brutally. "He'sdead cargo fer us, an' in the way. "

He lowered the gleaming point upon Will's chest. 

"Oh-h-h!" breathed Helen in horror. She tried to close her eyes butwas so fascinated she could not. 

"Get up. I'll have no murder, " ordered Mordaunt. "Leave him here. "

"He's not got a bad cut, " said the man sitting on the log. "He'll cometo arter a spell, go back to ther fort, an' give an alarm. "

"What's that to me?" asked Mordaunt sharply. "We shall be safe. Iwon't have him with us because some Indian or another will kill him. It's not my purpose to murder any one. "

"Ugh!" grunted one of the savages, and pointed eastward with his hand. "Hurry-long-way-go, " he said in English. With the Indians in the leadthe party turned from the river into the forest. 

Helen looked back into the sandy glade and saw Will lying as they hadleft him, unconscious, with his hands still bound tightly behind him, and blood running over his face. Painful as was the thought of leavinghim thus, it afforded her relief. She assured herself he had not beenbadly hurt, would recover consciousness before long, and, even boundas he was, could make his way back to the settlement. 

Her own situation, now that she knew Mordaunt had instigated theabduction, did not seem hopeless. Although dreading Brandt withunspeakable horror, she did not in the least fear the Englishman. Hewas mad to carry her off like this into the wilderness, but wouldforce her to do nothing. He could not keep her a prisoner long whileJonathan Zane and Wetzel were free to take his trail. What were hisintentions? Where was he taking her? Such questions as these, however, troubled Helen more than a little. They brought her thoughts back tothe Indians leading the way with lithe and stealthy step. How hadMordaunt associated himself with these savages? Then, suddenly, itdawned upon her that Brandt also might be in this scheme to carry heroff. She scouted the idea; but it returned. Perhaps Mordaunt was onlya tool; perhaps he himself was being deceived. Helen turned pale atthe very thought. She had never forgotten the strange, unreadable, yetthreatening, expression which Brandt had worn the day she had refusedto walk with him. 

Meanwhile the party made rapid progress through the forest. Not a wordwas spoken, nor did any noise of rustling leaves or crackling twigsfollow their footsteps. The savage in the lead chose the open and lessdifficult ground; he took advantage of glades, mossy places, and rockyridges. This careful choosing was, evidently, to avoid noise, and makethe trail as difficult to follow as possible. Once he stoppedsuddenly, and listened. 

Helen had a good look at the savage while he was in this position. Hislean, athletic figure resembled, in its half-clothed condition, abronzed statue; his powerful visage was set, changeless like iron. Hisdark eyes seemed to take in all points of the forest before him. 

Whatever had caused the halt was an enigma to all save his red-skinnedcompanion. 

The silence of the wood was the silence of the desert. No birdchirped; no breath of wind sighed in the tree-tops; even the aspensremained unagitated. Pale yellow leaves sailed slowly, reluctantlydown from above. 

But some faint sound, something unusual had jarred upon theexquisitely sensitive ears of the leader, for with a meaning shake ofthe head to his followers, he resumed the march in a direction atright angles with the original course. 

This caution, and evident distrust of the forest ahead, made Helenthink again of Jonathan and Wetzel. Those great bordermen mightalready be on the trail of her captors. The thought thrilled her. Presently she realized, from another long, silent march through forestthickets, glades, aisles, and groves, over rock-strewn ridges, anddown mossy-stoned ravines, that her strength was beginning to fail. 

"I can go no further with my arms tied in this way, " she declared, stopping suddenly. 

"Ugh!" uttered the savage before her, turning sharply. He brandished atomahawk before her eyes. 

Mordaunt hurriedly set free her wrists. His pale face flushed a dark, flaming red when she shrank from his touch as if he were a viper. 

After they had traveled what seemed to Helen many miles, the vigilanceof the leaders relaxed. 

On the banks of the willow-skirted stream the Indian guide haltedthem, and proceeded on alone to disappear in a green thicket. Presently he reappeared, and motioned for them to come on. He led theway over smooth, sandy paths between clumps of willows, into a heavygrowth of alder bushes and prickly thorns, at length to emerge upon abeautiful grassy plot enclosed by green and yellow shrubbery. Abovethe stream, which cut the edge of the glade, rose a sloping, woodedridge, with huge rocks projecting here and there out of thebrown forest. 

Several birch-bark huts could be seen; then two rough bearded menlolling upon the grass, and beyond them a group of painted Indians. 

A whoop so shrill, so savage, so exultant, that it seemingly froze herblood, rent the silence. A man, unseen before, came crashing throughthe willows on the side of the ridge. He leaped the stream with thespring of a wild horse. He was big and broad, with disheveled hair, keen, hard face, and wild, gray eyes. 

Helen's sight almost failed her; her head whirled dizzily; it was asif her heart had stopped beating and was become a cold, dead weight. She recognized in this man the one whom she feared most ofall--Brandt. 

He cast one glance full at her, the same threatening, cool, andevil-meaning look she remembered so well, and then engaged the Indianguide in low conversation. 

Helen sank at the foot of a tree, leaning against it. Despite herweariness she had retained some spirit until this direful revelationbroke her courage. What worse could have happened? Mordaunt had ledher, for some reason that she could not divine, into the clutches ofBrandt, into the power of Legget and his outlaws. 

But Helen was not one to remain long dispirited or hopeless. As thisplot thickened, as every added misfortune weighed upon her, when justready to give up to despair she remembered the bordermen. Then ColonelZane's tales of their fearless, implacable pursuit when bent on rescueor revenge, recurred to her, and fortitude returned. While she hadlife she would hope. 

The advent of the party with their prisoner enlivened Legget's gang. Agreat giant of a man, blond-bearded, and handsome in a wild, rugged, uncouth way, a man Helen instinctively knew to be Legget, slappedBrandt on the shoulder. 

"Damme, Roge, if she ain't a regular little daisy! Never seed such apurty lass in my life. "

Brandt spoke hurriedly, and Legget laughed. 

All this time Case had been sitting on the grass, saying nothing, butwith his little eyes watchful. Mordaunt stood near him, his headbowed, his face gloomy. 

"Say, cap'n, I don't like this mess, " whispered Case to his master. "They ain't no crew fer us. I know men, fer I've sailed the seas, an'you're goin' to get what Metz calls the double-cross. "

Mordaunt seemed to arouse from his gloomy reverie. He looked at Brandtand Legget who were now in earnest council. Then his eyes wanderedtoward Helen. She beckoned him to come to her. 

"Why did you bring me here?" she asked. 

"Brandt understood my case. He planned this thing, and seemed to be agood friend of mine. He said if I once got you out of the settlement, he would give me protection until I crossed the border into Canada. There we could be married, " replied Mordaunt unsteadily. 

"Then you meant marriage by me, if I could be made to consent?"

"Of course. I'm not utterly vile, " he replied, with face lowered inshame. 

"Have you any idea what you've done?"

"Done? I don't understand. "

"You have ruined yourself, lost your manhood, become an outlaw, afugitive, made yourself the worst thing on the border--a girl-thief, and all for nothing. "

"No, I have you. You are more to me than all. "

"But can't you see? You've brought me out here for Brandt!"

"My God!" exclaimed Mordaunt. He rose slowly to his feet and gazedaround like a man suddenly wakened from a dream. "I see it all now!Miserable, drunken wretch that I am!"

Helen saw his face change and lighten as if a cloud of darkness hadpassed away from it. She understood that love of liquor had made him aparty to this plot. Brandt had cunningly worked upon his weakness, proposed a daring scheme; and filled his befogged mind with hopesthat, in a moment of clear-sightedness, he would have seen to be vainand impossible. And Helen understood also that the sudden shock ofsurprise, pain, possible fury, had sobered Mordaunt, probably for thefirst time in weeks. 

The Englishman's face became exceedingly pale. Seating himself on astone near Case, he bowed his head, remaining silent and motionless. 

The conference between Legget and Brandt lasted for some time. When itended the latter strode toward the motionless figure on the rock. 

"Mordaunt, you and Case will do well to follow this Indian at once tothe river, where you can strike the Fort Pitt trail, " said Brandt. 

He spoke arrogantly and authoritatively. His keen, hard face, hissteely eyes, bespoke the iron will and purpose of the man. 

Mordaunt rose with cold dignity. If he had been a dupe, he was one nolonger, as could be plainly read on his calm, pale face. The oldlistlessness, the unsteadiness had vanished. He wore a manner ofextreme quietude; but his eyes were like balls of blazing blue steel. 

"Mr. Brandt, I seem to have done you a service, and am no longerrequired, " he said in a courteous tone. 

Brandt eyed his man; but judged him wrongly. An English gentleman wasnew to the border-outlaw. 

"I swore the girl should be mine, " he hissed. 

"Doomed men cannot be choosers!" cried Helen, who had heard him. Herdark eyes burned with scorn and hatred. 

All the party heard her passionate outburst. Case arose as ifunconcernedly, and stood by the side of his master. Legget and theother two outlaws came up. The Indians turned their swarthy faces. 

"Hah! ain't she sassy?" cried Legget. 

Brandt looked at Helen, understood the meaning of her words, andlaughed. But his face paled, and involuntarily his shifty glancesought the rocks and trees upon the ridge. 

"You played me from the first?" asked Mordaunt quietly. 

"I did, " replied Brandt. 

"You meant nothing of your promise to help me across the border?"

"No. "

"You intended to let me shift for myself out here in this wilderness?"

"Yes, after this Indian guides you to the river-trail, " said Brandt, indicating with his finger the nearest savage. 

"I get what you frontier men call the double-cross'?"

"That's it, " replied Brandt with a hard laugh, in which Legget joined. 

A short pause ensued. 

"What will you do with the girl?"

"That's my affair. "

"Marry her?" Mordaunt's voice was low and quiet. 

"No!" cried Brandt. "She flaunted my love in my face, scorned me! Shesaw that borderman strike me, and by God! I'll get even. I'll keep herhere in the woods until I'm tired of her, and when her beauty fadesI'll turn her over to Legget. "

Scarcely had the words dropped from his vile lips when Mordaunt movedwith tigerish agility. He seized a knife from the belt of one ofthe Indians. 

"Die!" he screamed. 

Brandt grasped his tomahawk. At the same instant the man who had actedas Mordaunt's guide grasped the Englishman from behind. 

Brandt struck ineffectually at the struggling man. 

"Fair play!" roared Case, leaping at Mordaunt's second assailant. Hislong knife sheathed its glittering length in the man's breast. Withouteven a groan he dropped. "Clear the decks!" Case yelled, sweepinground in a circle. All fell back before that whirling knife. 

Several of the Indians started as if to raise their rifles; butLegget's stern command caused them to desist. 

The Englishman and the outlaw now engaged in a fearful encounter. Thepracticed, rugged, frontier desperado apparently had found his matchin this pale-faced, slender man. His border skill with the hatchetseemed offset by Mordaunt's terrible rage. Brandt whirled and swungthe weapon as he leaped around his antagonist. With his left arm theEnglishman sought only to protect his head, while with his right hebrandished the knife. Whirling here and there they struggled acrossthe cleared space, plunging out of sight among the willows. During amoment there was a sound as of breaking branches; then a dull blow, horrible to hear, followed by a low moan, and then deep silence. 

CHAPTER XVIII

A black weight was seemingly lifted from Helen's weary eyelids. Thesun shone; the golden forest surrounded her; the brook babbledmerrily; but where were the struggling, panting men? She noticedpresently, when her vision had grown more clear, that the scenediffered entirely from the willow-glade where she had closed her eyesupon the fight. Then came the knowledge that she had fainted, and, during the time of unconsciousness, been moved. 

She lay upon a mossy mound a few feet higher than a swiftly runningbrook. A magnificent chestnut tree spread its leafy branches aboveher. Directly opposite, about an hundred feet away, loomed a gray, ragged, moss-stained cliff. She noted this particularly because thedense forest encroaching to its very edge excited her admiration. Suchwonderful coloring seemed unreal. Dead gold and bright red foliageflamed everywhere. 

Two Indians stood near by silent, immovable. No other of Legget's bandwas visible. Helen watched the red men. 

Sinewy, muscular warriors they were, with bodies partially painted, and long, straight hair, black as burnt wood, interwoven with bits ofwhite bone, and plaited around waving eagle plumes. At first glancetheir dark faces and dark eyes were expressive of craft, cunning, cruelty, courage, all attributes of the savage. 

Yet wild as these savages appeared, Helen did not fear them as she didthe outlaws. Brandt's eyes, and Legget's, too, when turned on her, emitted a flame that seemed to scorch and shrivel her soul. When thesavages met her gaze, which was but seldom, she imagined she sawintelligence, even pity, in their dusky eyes. Certain it was she didnot shrink from them as from Brandt. 

Suddenly, with a sensation of relief and joy, she rememberedMordaunt's terrible onslaught upon Brandt. Although she could notrecollect the termination of that furious struggle, she did recallBrandt's scream of mortal agony, and the death of the other at Case'shands. This meant, whether Brandt was dead or not, that the fightingstrength of her captors had been diminished. Surely as the sun hadrisen that morning, Helen believed Jonathan and Wetzel lurked on thetrail of these renegades. She prayed that her courage, hope, strength, might be continued. 

"Ugh!" exclaimed one of the savages, pointing across the open space. A slight swaying of the bushes told that some living thing was movingamong them, and an instant later the huge frame of the leader cameinto view. The other outlaw, and Case, followed closely. Farther downthe margin of the thicket the Indians appeared; but without theslightest noise or disturbance of the shrubbery. 

It required but a glance to show Helen that Case was in high spirits. His repulsive face glowed with satisfaction. He carried a bundle, which Helen saw, with a sickening sense of horror, was made up ofMordaunt's clothing. Brandt had killed the Englishman. Legget also hada package under his arm, which he threw down when he reached thechestnut tree, to draw from his pocket a long, leather belt, such astravelers use for the carrying of valuables. It was evidently heavy, and the musical clink which accompanied his motion proclaimed thecontents to be gold. 

Brandt appeared next; he was white and held his hand to his breast. There were dark stains on his hunting coat, which he removed to exposea shirt blotched with red. 

"You ain't much hurt, I reckon?" inquired Legget solicitously. 

"No; but I'm bleeding bad, " replied Brandt coolly. He then called anIndian and went among the willows skirting the stream. 

"So I'm to be in this border crew?" asked Case, looking up at Legget. 

"Sure, " replied the big outlaw. "You're a handy fellar, Case, an'after I break you into border ways you will fit in here tip-top. Nowyou'd better stick by me. When Eb Zane, his brother Jack, an' Wetzelfind out this here day's work, hell will be a cool place compared withtheir whereabouts. You'll be safe with me, an' this is the only placeon the border, I reckon, where you can say your life is your own. "

"I'm yer mate, cap'n. I've sailed with soldiers, pirates, sailors, an'I guess I can navigate this borderland. Do we mess here? You didn'tcome far. "

"Wal, I ain't pertikuler, but I don't like eatin' with buzzards, " saidLegget, with a grin. "Thet's why we moved a bit. "

"What's buzzards?"

"Ho! ho! Mebbe you'll hev 'em closer'n you'd like, some day, if you'donly know it. Buzzards are fine birds, most particular birds, as won'teat nothin' but flesh, an' white man or Injun is pie fer 'em. "

"Cap'n, I've seed birds as wouldn't wait till a man was dead, " saidCase. 

"Haw! haw! you can't come no sailor yarns on this fellar. Wal, now, we've got ther Englishman's gold. One or t'other of us might jest aswell hev it all. "

"Right yer are, cap'n. Dice, cards, anyways, so long as I knows thegame. "

"Here, Jenks, hand over yer clickers, an' bring us a flat stone, " saidLegget, sitting on the moss and emptying the belt in front of him. Case took a small bag from the dark blue jacket that had so latelycovered Mordaunt's shoulders, and poured out its bright contents. 

"This coat ain't worth keepin', " he said, holding it up. The garmentwas rent and slashed, and under the left sleeve was a small, blood-stained hole where one of Brandt's blows had fallen. "Hullo, what's this?" muttered the sailor, feeling in the pocket of thejacket. "Blast my timbers, hooray!"

He held up a small, silver-mounted whiskey flask, unscrewed the lid, and lifted the vessel to his mouth. 

"I'm kinder thirsty myself, " suggested Legget. 

"Cap'n, a nip an' no more, " Case replied, holding the flask toLegget's lips. 

The outlaw called Jenks now returned with a flat stone which he placedbetween the two men. The Indians gathered around. With greedy eyesthey bent their heads over the gamblers, and watched every movementwith breathless interest. At each click of the dice, or clink of gold, they uttered deep exclamations. 

"Luck's again' ye, cap'n, " said Case, skilfully shaking the ivorycubes. 

"Hain't I got eyes?" growled the outlaw. 

Steadily his pile of gold diminished, and darker grew his face. 

"Cap'n, I'm a bad wind to draw, " Case rejoined, drinking again fromthe flask. His naturally red face had become livid, his skin moist, and his eyes wild with excitement. 

"Hullo! If them dice wasn't Jenks's, an' I hadn't played afore withhim, I'd swear they's loaded. "

"You ain't insinuatin' nothin', cap'n?" inquired Case softly, hesitating with the dice in his hands, his evil eyes glintingat Legget. 

"No, you're fair enough, " growled the leader. "It's my tough luck. "

The game progressed with infrequent runs of fortune for the outlaw, and presently every piece of gold lay in a shining heap beforethe sailor. 

"Clean busted!" exclaimed Legget in disgust. 

"Can't you find nothin' more?" asked Case. 

The outlaw's bold eyes wandered here and there until they rested uponthe prisoner. 

"I'll play ther lass against yer pile of gold, " he growled. "Best twothrows out 'en three. See here, she's as much mine as Brandt's. "

"Make it half my pile an' I'll go you. "

"Nary time. Bet, or give me back what yer win, " replied Leggetgruffly. 

"She's a trim little craft, no mistake, " said Case, criticallysurveying Helen. "All right, cap'n, I've sportin' blood, an' I'll bet. Yer throw first. "

Legget won the first cast, and Case the second. With deliberation theoutlaw shook the dice in his huge fist, and rattled them out upon thestone. "Hah!" he cried in delight. He had come within one of thehighest score possible. Case nonchalantly flipped the little whiteblocks. The Indians crowded forward, their dusky eyes shining. 

Legget swore in a terrible voice which re-echoed from the stony cliff. The sailor was victorious. The outlaw got up, kicked the stone anddice in the brook, and walked away from the group. He strode to andfro under one of the trees. Gruffly he gave an order to the Indians. Several of them began at once to kindle a fire. Presently he calledJenks, who was fishing the dice out of the brook, and began toconverse earnestly with him, making fierce gestures and castinglowering glances at the sailor. 

Case was too drunk now to see that he had incurred the enmity of theoutlaw leader. He drank the last of the rum, and tossed the silverflask to an Indian, who received the present with every showof delight. 

Case then, with the slow, uncertain movements of a man whose mind isbefogged, began to count his gold; but only to gather up a few pieceswhen they slipped out of his trembling hands to roll on the moss. Laboriously, seriously, he kept at it with the doggedness of a drunkenman. Apparently he had forgotten the others. Failing to learn thevalue of the coins by taking up each in turn, he arranged them inseveral piles, and began to estimate his wealth in sections. 

In the meanwhile Helen, who had not failed to take in the slightestdetail of what was going on, saw that a plot was hatching which bodedill to the sailor. Moreover, she heard Legget and Jenks whispering. 

"I kin take him from right here 'atwixt his eyes, " said Jenks softly, and tapped his rifle significantly. 

"Wal, go ahead, only I ruther hev it done quieter, " answered Legget. "We're yet a long ways, near thirty miles, from my camp, an' there'sno tellin' who's in ther woods. But we've got ter git rid of therfresh sailor, an' there's no surer way. "

Cautiously cocking his rifle, Jenks deliberately raised it to hisshoulder. One of the Indian sentinels who stood near at hand, sprangforward and struck up the weapon. He spoke a single word to Legget, pointed to the woods above the cliff, and then resumed hisstatue-like attitude. 

"I told yer, Jenks, that it wouldn't do. The redskin scents somethin'in the woods, an' ther's an Injun I never seed fooled. We mustn't makea noise. Take yer knife an' tomahawk, crawl down below the edge o' thebank an' slip up on him. I'll give half ther gold fer ther job. "

Jenks buckled his belt more tightly, gave one threatening glance atthe sailor, and slipped over the bank. The bed of the brook lay aboutsix feet below the level of the ground. This afforded an opportunityfor the outlaw to get behind Case without being observed. A momentpassed. Jenks disappeared round a bend of the stream. Presently hisgrizzled head appeared above the bank. He was immediately behind thesailor; but still some thirty feet away. This ground must be coveredquickly and noiselessly. The outlaw began to crawl. In his right handhe grasped a tomahawk, and between his teeth was a long knife. Helooked like a huge, yellow bear. 

The savages, with the exception of the sentinel who seemed absorbed inthe dense thicket on the cliff, sat with their knees between theirhands, watching the impending tragedy. 

Nothing but the merest chance, or some extraordinary intervention, could avert Case's doom. He was gloating over his gold. The creepingoutlaw made no more noise than a snake. Nearer and nearer he came; hissweaty face shining in the sun; his eyes tigerish; his long bodyslipping silently over the grass. At length he was within five feet ofthe sailor. His knotty hands were dug into the sward as he gatheredenergy for a sudden spring. 

At that very moment Case, with his hand on his knife, rose quickly andturned round. 

The outlaw, discovered in the act of leaping, had no alternative, andspring he did, like a panther. 

The little sailor stepped out of line with remarkable quickness, andas the yellow body whirled past him, his knife flashed blue-bright inthe sunshine. 

Jenks fell forward, his knife buried in the grass beneath him, and hisoutstretched hand still holding the tomahawk. 

"Tryin' ter double-cross me fer my gold, " muttered the sailor, sheathing his weapon. He never looked to see whether or no his blowhad been fatal. "These border fellars might think a man as sails theseas can't handle a knife. " He calmly began gathering up his gold, evidently indifferent to further attack. 

Helen saw Legget raise his own rifle, but only to have it struck asideas had Jenks's. This time the savage whispered earnestly to Legget, who called the other Indians around him. The sentinel's low throatytones mingled with the soft babbling of the stream. No sooner had heceased speaking than the effect of his words showed how serious hadbeen the information, warning or advice. The Indians cast furtiveglances toward the woods. Two of them melted like shadows into the redand gold thicket. Another stealthily slipped from tree to tree untilhe reached the open ground, then dropped into the grass, and was seenno more until his dark body rose under the cliff. He stole along thegreen-stained wall, climbed a rugged corner, and vanished amid thedense foliage. 

Helen felt that she was almost past discernment or thought. The eventsof the day succeeding one another so swiftly, and fraught with panic, had, despite her hope and fortitude, reduced her to a helplesscondition of piteous fear. She understood that the savages scenteddanger, or had, in their mysterious way, received intelligence such asrendered them wary and watchful. 

"Come on, now, an' make no noise, " said Legget to Case. "Bring thegirl, an' see that she steps light. "

"Ay, ay, cap'n, " replied the sailor. "Where's Brandt?"

"He'll be comin' soon's his cut stops bleedin'. I reckon he's weakyet. "

Case gathered up his goods, and, tucking it under his arm, graspedHelen's arm. She was leaning against the tree, and when he pulled her, she wrenched herself free, rising with difficulty. His disgustingtouch and revolting face had revived her sensibilities. 

"Yer kin begin duty by carryin' thet, " said Case, thrusting thepackage into Helen's arms. She let it drop without moving a hand. 

"I'm runnin' this ship. Yer belong to me, " hissed Case, and then hestruck her on the head. Helen uttered a low cry of distress, and halfstaggered against the tree. The sailor picked up the package. Thistime she took it, trembling with horror. 

"Thet's right. Now, give ther cap'n a kiss, " he leered, and jostledagainst her. 

Helen pushed him violently. With agonized eyes she appealed to theIndians. They were engaged tying up their packs. Legget looked on witha lazy grin. 

"Oh! oh!" breathed Helen as Case seized her again. She tried toscream, but could not make a sound. The evil eyes, the beastly face, transfixed her with terror. 

Case struck her twice, then roughly pulled her toward him. 

Half-fainting, unable to move, Helen gazed at the heated, bloated faceapproaching hers. 

When his coarse lips were within a few inches of her lips somethinghot hissed across her brow. Following so closely as to be anaccompaniment, rang out with singular clearness the sharp crack ofa rifle. 

Case's face changed. The hot, surging flush faded; the expressionbecame shaded, dulled into vacant emptiness; his eyes rolled wildly, then remained fixed, with a look of dark surprise. He stood upright aninstant, swayed with the regular poise of a falling oak, and thenplunged backward to the ground. His face, ghastly and livid, took onthe awful calm of death. 

A very small hole, reddish-blue round the edges, dotted the center ofhis temple. 

Legget stared aghast at the dead sailor; then he possessed himself ofthe bag of gold. 

"Saved me ther trouble, " he muttered, giving Case a kick. 

The Indians glanced at the little figure, then out into the flamingthickets. Each savage sprang behind a tree with incredible quickness. Legget saw this, and grasping Helen, he quickly led her within coverof the chestnut. 

Brandt appeared with his Indian companion, and both leaped to shelterbehind a clump of birches near where Legget stood. Brandt's hawk eyesflashed upon the dead Jenks and Case. Without asking a question heseemed to take in the situation. He stepped over and grasped Helenby the arm. 

"Who killed Case?" he asked in a whisper, staring at the little bluehole in the sailor's temple. 

No one answered. 

The two Indians who had gone into the woods to the right of thestream, now returned. Hardly were they under the trees with theirparty, when the savage who had gone off alone arose out of the grassin the left of the brook, took it with a flying leap, and darted intotheir midst. He was the sentinel who had knocked up the weapons, thereby saving Case's life twice. He was lithe and supple, but notyoung. His grave, shadowy-lined, iron visage showed the traces of timeand experience. All gazed at him as at one whose wisdom was greaterthan theirs. 

"Old Horse, " said Brandt in English. "Haven't I seen bullet holes likethis?"

The Chippewa bent over Case, and then slowly straightened his tallform. 

"_Deathwind!_" he replied, answering in the white man's language. 

His Indian companions uttered low, plaintive murmurs, not signifyingfear so much as respect. 

Brandt turned as pale as the clean birch-bark on the tree near him. The gray flare of his eyes gave out a terrible light of certaintyand terror. 

"Legget, you needn't try to hide your trail, " he hissed, and itseemed as if there was a bitter, reckless pleasure in these words. 

Then the Chippewa glided into the low bushes bordering the creek. Legget followed him, with Brandt leading Helen, and the other Indiansbrought up the rear, each one sending wild, savage glances into thedark, surrounding forest. 

CHAPTER XIX

A dense white fog rose from the river, obscuring all objects, when thebordermen rolled out of their snug bed of leaves. The air was cool andbracing, faintly fragrant with dying foliage and the damp, dewyluxuriance of the ripened season. Wetzel pulled from under theprotecting ledge a bundle of bark and sticks he had put there to keepdry, and built a fire, while Jonathan fashioned a cup from a greenfruit resembling a gourd, filling it at a spring near by. 

"Lew, there's a frosty nip in the water this mornin', " said Jonathan. 

"I reckon. It's gettin' along into fall now. Any clear, still night'llfetch all the leaves, an' strip the trees bare as burned timber, "answered Wetzel, brushing the ashes off the strip of meat he hadroasted. "Get a stick, an' help me cook the rest of this chunk ofbison. The sun'll be an hour breakin' up thet mist, an' we can't clearout till then. Mebbe we won't have no chance to light anotherfire soon. "

With these bordermen everything pertaining to their lonely lives, fromthe lighting of a fire to the trailing of a redskin, was singularlyserious. No gladsome song ever came from their lips; there was nojollity around their camp-fire. Hunters had their moments of rapturousdelight; bordermen knew the peace, the content of the wilderness, buttheir pursuits racked nerve and heart. Wetzel had his moments offrenzied joy, but they passed with the echo of his vengeful yell. Jonathan's happiness, such as it was, had been to roam the forests. That, before a woman's eyes had dispelled it, had been enough, andcompensated him for the gloomy, bloody phantoms which haunted him. 

The bordermen, having partaken of the frugal breakfast, stowed intheir spacious pockets all the meat that was left, and were ready forthe day's march. They sat silent for a time waiting for the mist tolift. It broke in places, rolled in huge billows, sailed aloft likegreat white clouds, and again hung tenaciously to the river and theplain. Away in the west blue patches of sky shone through the rifts, and eastward banks of misty vapor reddened beneath the rising sun. Suddenly from beneath the silver edge of the rising pall the sun burstgleaming gold, disclosing the winding valley with its steaming river. 

"We'll make up stream fer Two Islands, an' cross there if so be we'vereason, " Wetzel had said. 

Through the dewy dells, avoiding the wet grass and bushes, along thedark, damp glades with their yellow carpets, under the thinning archesof the trees, down the gentle slopes of the ridges, rich with greenmoss, the bordermen glided like gray shadows. The forest was yetasleep. A squirrel frisked up an oak and barked quarrelsomely at thesestrange, noiseless visitors. A crow cawed from somewhere overhead. These were the only sounds disturbing the quiet early hour. 

As the bordermen advanced the woods lightened and awoke to life andjoy. Birds sang, trilled, warbled, or whistled their plaintive songs, peculiar to the dying season, and in harmony with the glory of theearth. Birds that in earlier seasons would have screeched and fought, now sang and fluttered side by side, in fraternal parade on their slowpilgrimage to the far south. 

"Bad time fer us, when the birds are so tame, an' chipper. We can'tput faith in them these days, " said Wetzel. "Seems like they never waswild. I can tell, 'cept at this season, by the way they whistle an'act in the woods, if there's been any Injuns along the trails. "

The greater part of the morning passed thus with the bordermensteadily traversing the forest; here, through a spare and gloomy wood, blasted by fire, worn by age, with many a dethroned monarch of bygonetimes rotting to punk and duff under the ferns, with many a dark, seamed and ragged king still standing, but gray and bald of head andalmost ready to take his place in the forest of the past; there, through a maze of young saplings where each ash, maple, hickory andoak added some new and beautiful hue to the riot of color. 

"I just had a glimpse of the lower island, as we passed an opening inthe thicket, " said Jonathan. 

"We ain't far away, " replied Wetzel. 

The bordermen walked less rapidly in order to proceed with morewatchfulness. Every rod or two they stopped to listen. 

"You think Legget's across the river?" asked Jonathan. 

"He was two days back, an' had his gang with him. He's up to some badwork, but I can't make out what. One thing, I never seen his trail sonear Fort Henry. "

They emerged at length into a more open forest which skirted theriver. At a point still some distance ahead, but plainly in sight, twosmall islands rose out of the water. 

"Hist! What's that?" whispered Wetzel, slipping his hand in Jonathan'sarm. 

A hundred yards beyond lay a long, dark figure stretched at fulllength under one of the trees close to the bank. 

"Looks like a man, " said Jonathan. 

"You've hit the mark. Take a good peep roun' now, Jack, fer we'recomin' somewhere near the trail we want. "

Minutes passed while the patient bordermen searched the forest withtheir eyes, seeking out every tree within rifle range, or surveyed thelevel glades, scrutinized the hollows, and bent piercing eyes upon thepatches of ferns. 

"If there's a redskin around he ain't big enough to hold a gun, " saidWetzel, moving forward again, yet still with that same stealthy stepand keen caution. 

Finally they were gazing down upon the object which had attractedWetzel's attention. 

"Will Sheppard!" cried Jonathan. "Is he dead? What's this mean?"

Wetzel leaned over the prostrate lad, and then quickly turned to hiscompanion. 

"Get some water. Take his cap. No, he ain't even hurt bad, unless he'sgot some wound as don't show. "

Jonathan returned with the water, and Wetzel bathed the bloody face. When the gash on Will's forehead was clean, it told thebordermen much. 

"Not an hour old, that blow, " muttered Wetzel. 

"He's comin' to, " said Jonathan as Will stirred uneasily and moaned. Presently the lad opened his eyes and sat bolt upright. He lookedbewildered for a moment, and felt of his head while gazing vaguely atthe bordermen. Suddenly he cried:

"I remember! We were captured, brought here, and I was struck down bythat villain Case. "

"We? Who was with you?" asked Jonathan slowly. 

"Helen. We came after flowers and leaves. While in full sight of thefort I saw an Indian. We hurried back, " he cried, and proceeded withbroken, panting voice to tell his story. 

Jonathan Zane leaped to his feet with face deathly white and eyesblue-black, like burning stars. 

"Jack, study the trail while I get the lad acrost the river, an'steered fer home, " said Wetzel, and then he asked Will if hecould swim. 

"Yes; but you will find a canoe there in those willows. "

"Come, lad, we've no time to spare, " added Wetzel, sliding down thebank and entering the willows. He came out almost immediately with thecanoe which he launched. 

Will turned that he might make a parting appeal to Jonathan to saveHelen; but could not speak. The expression on the borderman's facefrightened him. 

Motionless and erect Jonathan stood, his arms folded and his white, stern face distorted with the agony of remorse, fear, and anguish, which, even as Will gazed, froze into an awful, deadly look offateful purpose. 

Wetzel pushed the canoe off, and paddled with powerful strokes; heleft Will on the opposite bank, and returned as swiftly as he couldpropel the light craft. 

The bordermen met each other's glance, and had little need of words. Wetzel's great shoulders began to sag slightly, and his head loweredas his eyes sought the grass; a dark and gloomy shade overcast hisfeatures. Thus he passed from borderman to Deathwind. The sough of thewind overhead among the almost naked branches might well have warnedIndians and renegades that Deathwind was on the trail!

"Brandt's had a hand in this, an' the Englishman's a fool!" saidWetzel. 

"An hour ahead; can we come up with them before they join Brandt an'Legget?"

"We can try, but like as not we'll fail. Legget's gang is thirteenstrong by now. I said it! Somethin' told me--a hard trail, a longtrail, an' our last trail. "

"It's over thirty miles to Legget's camp. We know the woods, an' everystream, an' every cover, " hissed Jonathan Zane. 

With no further words Wetzel took the trail on the run, and so plainwas it to his keen eyes that he did not relax his steady lope exceptto stop and listen at regular intervals. Jonathan followed with easyswing. Through forest and meadow, over hill and valley, they ran, fleet and tireless. Once, with unerring instinct, they abruptly leftthe broad trail and cut far across a wide and rugged ridge to comeagain upon the tracks of the marching band. Then, in open country theyreduced their speed to a walk. Ahead, in a narrow valley, rose athicket of willows, yellow in the sunlight, and impenetrable to humanvision. Like huge snakes the bordermen crept into this copse, over thesand, under the low branches, hard on the trail. Finally, in a light, open space, where the sun shone through a network of yellow branchesand foliage, Wetzel's hand was laid upon Jonathan's shoulder. 

"Listen! Hear that!" he whispered. 

Jonathan heard the flapping of wings, and a low, hissing sound, notunlike that made by a goose. 

"Buzzards!" he said, with a dark, grim smile. "Mebbe Brandt has begunour work. Come. "

Out into the open they crawled to put to flight a flock of huge blackbirds with grisly, naked necks, hooked beaks, and long, yellow claws. Upon the green grass lay three half-naked men, ghastly, bloody, interribly limp and lifeless positions. 

"Metzar's man Smith, Jenks, the outlaw, and Mordaunt!"

Jonathan Zane gazed darkly into the steely, sightless eyes of thetraitor. Death's awful calm had set the expression; but the man'swhole life was there, its better part sadly shining forth among thecruel shadows. 

His body was mutilated in a frightful manner. Cuts, stabs, and slashestold the tale of a long encounter, brought to an end by oneclean stroke. 

"Come here, Lew. You've seen men chopped up; but look at this deadEnglishman, " called Zane. 

Mordaunt lay weltering in a crimson tide. Strangely though, his facewas uninjured. A black bruise showed under his fair hair. The ghost ofa smile seemed to hover around his set lips, yet almost intangiblethough it was, it showed that at last he had died a man. His leftshoulder, side and arm showed where the brunt of Brandt's attackhad fallen. 

"How'd he ever fight so?" mused Jonathan. 

"You never can tell, " replied Wetzel. "Mebbe he killed this otherfellar, too; but I reckon not. Come, we must go slow now, fer Leggetis near at hand. "

Jonathan brought huge, flat stones from the brook, and laid them overMordaunt; then, cautiously he left the glade on Wetzel's trail. 

Five hundred yards farther on Wetzel had ceased following the outlaw'stracks to cross the creek and climb a ridge. He was beginning hisfavorite trick of making a wide detour. Jonathan hurried forward, feeling he was safe from observation. Soon he distinguished the tall, brown figure of his comrade gliding ahead from tree to tree, frombush to bush. 

"See them maples an' chestnuts down thar, " said Wetzel when Jonathanhad come up, pointing through an opening in the foliage. "They'vestopped fer some reason. "

On through the forest the bordermen glided. They kept near the summitof the ridge, under the best cover they could find, and passed swiftlyover this half-circle. When beginning once more to draw toward theopen grove in the valley, they saw a long, irregular cliff, denselywooded. They swerved a little, and made for this excellent covert. 

They crawled the last hundred yards and never shook a fern, moved aleaf, or broke a twig. Having reached the brink of the low precipice, they saw the grassy meadow below, the straggling trees, the brook, thegroup of Indians crowding round the white men. 

"See that point of rock thar? It's better cover, " whispered Wetzel. 

Patiently, with no hurry or excitement, they slowly made theirdifficult way among the rocks and ferns to the vantage point desired. Taking a position like this was one the bordermen strongly favored. They could see everywhere in front, and had the thick woods attheir backs. 

"What are they up to?" whispered Jonathan, as he and Wetzel lay closetogether under a mass of grapevine still tenacious of itsbroad leaves. 

"Dicin', " answered Wetzel. "I can see 'em throw; anyways, nothin' butbettin' ever makes redskins act like that. "

"Who's playin'? Where's Brandt?"

"I can make out Legget; see his shaggy head. The other must be Case. Brandt ain't in sight. Nursin' a hurt perhaps. Ah! See thar! Overunder the big tree as stands dark-like agin the thicket. Thet's anInjun, an' he looks too quiet an' keen to suit me. We'll have acare of him. "

"Must be playin' fer Mordaunt's gold. "

"Like as not, for where'd them ruffians get any 'cept they stole it. "

"Aha! They're gettin' up! See Legget walk away shakin' his big head. He's mad. Mebbe he'll be madder presently, " growled Jonathan. 

"Case's left alone. He's countin' his winnin's. Jack, look out fermore work took off our hands. "

"By gum! See that Injun knock up a leveled rifle. "

"I told you, an' thet redskin has his suspicions. He's seen us downalong ther ridge. There's Helen, sittin' behind the biggest tree. ThetInjun guard, 'afore he moved, kept us from seein' her. "

Jonathan made no answer to this; but his breath literally hissedthrough his clenched teeth. 

"Thar goes the other outlaw, " whispered Wetzel, as if his comradecould not see. "It's all up with Case. See the sneak bendin' down thebank. Now, thet's a poor way. It'd better be done from the front, walkin' up natural-like, instead of tryin' to cover thet wide stretch. Case'll see him or hear him sure. Thar, he's up now, an' crawlin'. He's too slow, too slow. Aha! I knew it--Case turns. Look at theoutlaw spring! Well, did you see thet little cuss whip his knife? Onemore less fer us to quiet. Thet makes four, Jack, an' mebbe, soon, it'll be five. "

"They're holdin' a council, " said Jonathan. 

"I see two Injuns sneakin' off into the woods, an' here comes thetguard. He's a keen redskin, Jack, fer we did come light through thebrush. Mebbe it'd be well to stop his scoutin'. "

"Lew, that villain Case is bullyin' Helen!" cried Jonathan. 

"Sh-sh-h, " whispered Wetzel. 

"See! He's pulled her to her feet. Oh! He struck her! Oh!"

Jonathan leveled his rifle and would have fired, but for the irongrasp on his wrist. 

"Hev you lost yer senses? It's full two hundred paces, an' too far feryour piece, " said Wetzel in a whisper. "An' it ain't sense to tryfrom here. "

"Lend me your gun! Lend me your gun!"

Silently Wetzel handed him the long, black rifle. 

Jonathan raised it, but trembled so violently that the barrel waveredlike a leaf in the breeze, "Take it, I can't cover him, " groaned Jonathan. "This is new to me. Iain't myself. God! Lew, he struck her again! _Again!_ He's tryin' tokiss her! Wetzel, if you're my friend, kill him!"

"Jack, it'd be better to wait, an'----"

"I love her, " breathed Jonathan. 

The long, black barrel swept up to a level and stopped. White smokebelched from among the green leaves; the report rang throughoutthe forest. 

"Ah! I saw him stop an' pause, " hissed Jonathan. "He stands, he sways, he falls! Death for yours, you sailor-beast!"

CHAPTER XX

The bordermen watched Legget and his band disappear into the thicketadjoining the grove. When the last dark, lithe form glided out ofsight among the yellowing copse, Jonathan leaped from the low cliff, and had hardly reached the ground before Wetzel dashed down to thegrassy turf. 

Again they followed the outlaw's trail darker-faced, fiercer-visagedthan ever, with cocked, tightly-gripped rifles thrust well beforethem, and light feet that scarcely brushed the leaves. 

Wetzel halted after a long tramp up and down the ridges, and surveyedwith keen intent the lay of the land ahead. 

"Sooner or later we'll hear from that redskin as discovered us a waysback, " whispered he. "I wish we might get a crack at him afore hehinders us bad. I ain't seen many keener Injuns. It's lucky we fixedther arrow-shootin' Shawnee. We'd never hev beat thet combination. An'fer all of thet I'm worrin' some about the goin' ahead. "

"Ambush?" Jonathan asked. 

"Like as not. Legget'll send thet Injun back, an' mebbe more'n him. Jack, see them little footprints? They're Helen's. Look how she'sdraggin' along. Almost tuckered out. Legget can't travel many moremiles to-day. He'll make a stand somewheres, an' lose all his redskinsafore he gives up the lass. "

"I'll never live through to-night with her in that gang. She'll besaved, or dead, before the stars pale in the light of the moon. "

"I reckon we're nigh the end for some of us. It'll be moonlight anhour arter dusk, an' now it's only the middle of the arternoon; we'vetime enough fer anythin'. Now, Jack, let's not tackle the trailstraight. We'll split, an' go round to head 'em off. See thet deadwhite oak standin' high over thar?"

Jonathan looked out between the spreading branches of a beech, andsaw, far over a low meadow, luxuriant with grasses and rushes andbright with sparkling ponds and streams, a dense wood out of whichtowered a bare, bleached tree-top. 

"You slip around along the right side of this meader, an' I'll takethe left side. Go slow, an' hev yer eyes open. We'll meet under thetbig dead tree. I allow we can see it from anywhere around. We'll leavethe trail here, an' take it up farther on. Legget's goin' straightfor his camp; he ain't losin' an inch. He wants to get in that rockyhole of his'n. "

Wetzel stepped off the trail, glided into the woods, and vanished. 

Jonathan turned to the right, traversed the summit of the ridge, softly traveled down its slope, and, after crossing a slow, eddying, quiet stream, gained the edge of the forest on that side of the swamp. A fringe of briars and prickly thorns bordered this wood affording anexcellent cover. On the right the land rose rather abruptly. He sawthat by walking up a few paces he could command a view of the entireswamp, as well as the ridge beyond, which contained Wetzel, and, probably, the outlaw and his band. 

Remembering his comrade's admonition, Jonathan curbed his unusualimpatience and moved slowly. The wind swayed the tree-tops, andrustled the fallen leaves. Birds sang as if thinking the warm, softweather was summer come again. Squirrels dropped heavy nuts thatcracked on the limbs, or fell with a thud to the ground, and theyscampered over the dry earth, scratching up the leaves as they barkedand scolded. Crows cawed clamorously after a hawk that had dartedunder the tree-tops to escape them; deer loped swiftly up the hill, and a lordly elk rose from a wallow in the grassy swamp, crashing intothe thicket. 

When two-thirds around this oval plain, which was a mile long andperhaps one-fourth as wide, Jonathan ascended the hill to make asurvey. The grass waved bright brown and golden in the sunshine, swished in the wind, and swept like a choppy sea to the oppositeridge. The hill was not densely wooded. In many places the red-brownfoliage opened upon irregular patches, some black, as if having beenburned over, others showing the yellow and purple colors of the lowthickets and the gray, barren stones. 

Suddenly Jonathan saw something darken one of these sunlit plots. Itmight have been a deer. He studied the rolling, rounded tree-tops, thenarrow strips between the black trunks, and the open places that wereclear in the sunshine. He had nearly come to believe he had seen asmall animal or bird flit across the white of the sky far in thebackground, when he distinctly saw dark figures stealing along past agreen-gray rock, only to disappear under colored banks of foliage. Presently, lower down, they reappeared and crossed an open patch ofyellow fern. Jonathan counted them. Two were rather yellow in color, the hue of buckskin; another, slight of stature as compared with thefirst, and light gray by contrast. Then six black, slender, glidingforms crossed the space. Jonathan then lost sight of them, and did notget another glimpse. He knew them to be Legget and his band. Theslight figure was Helen. 

Jonathan broke into a run, completed the circle around the swamp, andslowed into a walk when approaching the big dead tree where he was towait for Wetzel. 

Several rods beyond the lowland he came to a wood of white oaks, allgiants rugged and old, with scarcely a sapling intermingled with them. Although he could not see the objective point, he knew from hisaccurate sense of distance that he was near it. As he entered the woodhe swept its whole length and width with his eyes, he darted forwardtwenty paces to halt suddenly behind a tree. He knew full well that asharply moving object was more difficult to see in the woods, than onestationary. Again he ran, fleet and light, a few paces ahead to takeup a position as before behind a tree. Thus he traversed the forest. On the other side he found the dead oak of which Wetzel had spoken. 

Its trunk was hollow. Jonathan squeezed himself into the blackenedspace, with his head in a favorable position behind a projecting knot, where he could see what might occur near at hand. 

He waited for what seemed to him a long while, during which he neithersaw nor heard anything, and then, suddenly, the report of a rifle rangout. A single, piercing scream followed. Hardly had the echo ceasedwhen three hollow reports, distinctly different in tone from thefirst, could be heard from the same direction. In quick successionshort, fierce yells attended rather than succeeded, the reports. 

Jonathan stepped out of the hiding-place, cocked his rifle, and fixeda sharp eye on the ridge before him whence those startling cries hadcome. The first rifle-shot, unlike any other in its short, spiteful, stinging quality, was unmistakably Wetzel's. Zane had heard it, followed many times, as now, by the wild death-cry of a savage. Theother reports were of Indian guns, and the yells were the clamoring, exultant cries of Indians in pursuit. 

Far down where the open forest met the gloom of the thickets, a brownfigure flashed across the yellow ground. Darting among the trees, across the glades, it moved so swiftly that Jonathan knew it wasWetzel. In another instant a chorus of yelps resounded from thefoliage, and three savages burst through the thicket almost at rightangles with the fleeing borderman, running to intercept him. Theborderman did not swerve from his course; but came on straight towardthe dead tree, with the wonderful fleetness that so often hadserved him well. 

Even in that moment Jonathan thought of what desperate chances hiscomrade had taken. The trick was plain. Wetzel had, most likely, shotthe dangerous scout, and, taking to his heels, raced past the others, trusting to his speed and their poor marksmanship to escape with awhole skin. 

When within a hundred yards of the oak Wetzel's strength apparentlygave out. His speed deserted him; he ran awkwardly, and limped. Thesavages burst out into full cry like a pack of hungry wolves. They hadalready emptied their rifles at him, and now, supposing one of theshots had taken effect, redoubled their efforts, making the forestring with their short, savage yells. One gaunt, dark-bodied Indianwith a long, powerful, springy stride easily distanced his companions, and, evidently sure of gaining the coveted scalp of the borderman, rapidly closed the gap between them as he swung aloft his tomahawk, yelling the war-cry. 

The sight on Jonathan's rifle had several times covered this savage'sdark face; but when he was about to press the trigger Wetzel'sfleeting form, also in line with the savage, made it extremelyhazardous to take a shot. 

Jonathan stepped from his place of concealment, and let out a yellthat pealed high over the cries of the savages. 

Wetzel suddenly dropped flat on the ground. 

With a whipping crack of Jonathan's rifle, the big Indian plungedforward on his face. 

The other Indians, not fifty yards away, stopped aghast at the fate oftheir comrade, and were about to seek the shelter of trees when, withhis terrible yell, Wetzel sprang up and charged upon them. He had lefthis rifle where he fell; but his tomahawk glittered as he ran. Thelameness had been a trick, for now he covered ground with a swiftnesswhich caused his former progress to seem slow. 

The Indians, matured and seasoned warriors though they were, gave butone glance at this huge, brown figure bearing down upon them like afiend, and, uttering the Indian name of _Deathwind_, wavered, brokeand ran. 

One, not so fleet as his companion, Wetzel overtook and cut down witha single stroke. The other gained an hundred-yard start in the slightinterval of Wetzel's attack, and, spurred on by a pealing, awful cryin the rear, sped swiftly in and out among the trees until he waslost to view. 

Wetzel scalped the two dead savages, and, after returning to regainhis rifle, joined Jonathan at the dead oak. 

"Jack, you can never tell how things is comin' out. Thet redskin Iallowed might worry us a bit, fooled me as slick as you ever saw, an'I hed to shoot him. Knowin' it was a case of runnin', I just cut ferthis oak, drew the redskins' fire, an' hed 'em arter me quicker 'nyou'd say Jack Robinson. I was hopin' you'd be here; but wasn't suretill I'd seen your rifle. Then I kinder got a kink in my leg jest tocoax the brutes on. "

"Three more quiet, " said Jonathan Zane. "What now?"

"We've headed Legget, an' we'll keep nosin' him off his course. Already he's lookin' fer a safe campin' place for the night. "

"There is none in these woods, fer him. "

"We didn't plan this gettin' between him an' his camp; but couldn't bebetter fixed. A mile farther along the ridge, is a campin' place, witha spring in a little dell close under a big stone, an' well wooded. Legget's headin' straight fer it. With a couple of Injuns guardin'thet spot, he'll think he's safe. But I know the place, an' can crawlto thet rock the darkest night thet ever was an' never crack a stick. "

 * * * * *

In the gray of the deepening twilight Jonathan Zane sat alone. An owlhooted dismally in the dark woods beyond the thicket where theborderman crouched waiting for Wetzel. His listening ear detected asoft, rustling sound like the play of a mole under the leaves. Abranch trembled and swung back; a soft footstep followed and Wetzelcame into the retreat. 

"Well?" asked Jonathan impatiently, as Wetzel deliberately sat downand laid his rifle across his knees. 

"Easy, Jack, easy. We've an hour to wait. "

"The time I've already waited has been long for me. "

"They're thar, " said Wetzel grimly. 

"How far from here?"

"A half-hour's slow crawl. "

"Close by?" hissed Jonathan. 

"Too near fer you to get excited. "

"Let us go; it's as light now as in the gray of mornin'. "

"Mornin' would be best. Injuns get sleepy along towards day. I've everfound thet time the best. But we'll be lucky if we ketch theseredskins asleep. "

"Lew, I can't wait here all night. I won't leave her longer with thatrenegade. I've got to free or kill her. "

"Most likely it'll be the last, " said Wetzel simply. 

"Well, so be it then, " and the borderman hung his head. 

"You needn't worry none, 'bout Helen. I jest had a good look at her, not half an hour back. She's fagged out; but full of spunk yet. I seenthet when Brandt went near her. Legget's got his hands full jest nowwith the redskins. He's hevin' trouble keepin' them on this slowtrail. I ain't sayin' they're skeered; but they're mighty restless. "

"Will you take the chance now?"

"I reckon you needn't hev asked thet. "

"Tell me the lay of the land. "

"Wai, if we get to this rock I spoke 'bout, we'll be right over 'em. It's ten feet high, an' we can jump straight amongst 'em. Most likelytwo or three'll be guardin' the openin' which is a little ways to theright. Ther's a big tree, the only one, low down by the spring. Helen's under it, half-sittin', half-leanin' against the roots. When Ifirst looked, her hands were free; but I saw Brandt bind her feet. An'he had to get an Injun to help him, fer she kicked like a spiritedlittle filly. There's moss under the tree an' there's where theredskins'll lay down to rest. "

"I've got that; now out with your plan. "

"Wal, I calkilate it's this. The moon'll be up in about an hour. We'llcrawl as we've never crawled afore, because Helen's life depends asmuch on our not makin' a noise, as it does on fightin' when the timecomes. If they hear us afore we're ready to shoot, the lass'll betomahawked quicker'n lightnin'. If they don't suspicion us, when theright moment comes you shoot Brandt, yell louder'n you ever did afore, leap amongst 'em, an' cut down the first Injun thet's near you on yourway to Helen. Swing her over your arm, an' dig into the woods. "

"Well?" asked Jonathan when Wetzel finished. 

"That's all, " the borderman replied grimly. 

"An' leave you all alone to fight Legget an' the rest of 'em?"

"I reckon. "

"Not to be thought of. "

"Ther's no other way. "

"There must be! Let me think; I can't, I'm not myself. "

"No other way, " repeated Wetzel curtly. 

Jonathan's broad hand fastened on Wetzel's shoulder and wheeled himaround. 

"Have I ever left you alone?"

"This's different, " and Wetzel turned away again. His voice was coldand hard. 

"How is it different? We've had the same thing to do, almost, morethan once. "

"We've never had as bad a bunch to handle as Legget's. They're lookin'fer us, an' will be hard to beat. "

"That's no reason. "

"We never had to save a girl one of us loved. "

Jonathan was silent. 

"I said this'd be my last trail, " continued Wetzel. "I felt it, an' Iknow it'll be yours. "

"Why?"

"If you get away with the girl she'll keep you at home, an' it'll bewell. If you don't succeed, you'll die tryin', so it's sure yourlast trail. "

Wetzel's deep, cold voice rang with truth. 

"Lew, I can't run away an' leave you to fight those devils alone, after all these years we've been together, I can't. "

"No other chance to save the lass. "

Jonathan quivered with the force of his emotion. His black eyesglittered; his hands grasped at nothing. Once more he was between loveand duty. Again he fought over the old battle, but this time itleft him weak. 

"You love the big-eyed lass, don't you?" asked Wetzel, turning withsoftened face and voice. 

"I have gone mad!" cried Jonathan, tortured by the simple question ofhis friend. Those big, dear, wonderful eyes he loved so well, lookedat him now from the gloom of the thicket. The old, beautiful, softglow, the tender light, was there, and more, a beseeching prayerto save her. 

Jonathan bowed his head, ashamed to let his friend see the tears thatdimmed his eyes. 

"Jack, we've follered the trail fer years together. Always you'vebeen true an' staunch. This is our last, but whatever bides we'llbreak up Legget's band to-night, an' the border'll be cleared, mebbe, for always. At least his race is run. Let thet content you. Our time'dhave to come, sooner or later, so why not now? I know how it is, thatyou want to stick by me; but the lass draws you to her. I understand, an' want you to save her. Mebbe you never dreamed it; but I can telljest how you feel. All the tremblin', an' softness, an' sweetness, an'delight you've got for thet girl, is no mystery to Lew Wetzel. "

"You loved a lass?"

Wetzel bowed his head, as perhaps he had never before in all his life. 

"Betty--always, " he answered softly. 

"My sister!" exclaimed Jonathan, and then his hand closed hard on hiscomrade's, his mind going back to many things, strange in the past, but now explained. Wetzel had revealed his secret. 

"An' it's been all my life, since she wasn't higher 'n my knee. Therewas a time when I might hev been closer to you than I am now. But Iwas a mad an' bloody Injun hater, so I never let her know till I seenit was too late. Wal, wal, no more of me. I only told it fer you. "

Jonathan was silent. 

"An' now to come back where we left off, " continued Wetzel. "Let'stake a more hopeful look at this comin' fight. Sure I said it was mylast trail, but mebbe it's not. You can never tell. Feelin' as we do, I imagine they've no odds on us. Never in my life did I say to you, least of all to any one else, what I was goin' to do; but I'll tell itnow. If I land uninjured amongst thet bunch, I'll kill them all. "

The giant borderman's low voice hissed, and stung. His eyes glitteredwith unearthly fire. His face was cold and gray. He spread out hisbrawny arms and clenched his huge fists, making the muscles of hisbroad shoulders roll and bulge. 

"I hate the thought, Lew, I hate the thought. Ain't there no otherway?"

"No other way. "

"I'll do it, Lew, because I'd do the same for you; because I have to, because I love her; but God! it hurts. "

"Thet's right, " answered Wetzel, his deep voice softening until it wassingularly low and rich. "I'm glad you've come to it. An' sure ithurts. I want you to feel so at leavin' me to go it alone. If we bothget out alive, I'll come many times to see you an' Helen. If you livean' I don't, think of me sometimes, think of the trails we've crossedtogether. When the fall comes with its soft, cool air, an' smokymornin's an' starry nights, when the wind's sad among the barebranches, an' the leaves drop down, remember they're fallin' onmy grave. "

Twilight darkened into gloom; the red tinge in the west changed toopal light; through the trees over a dark ridge a rim of silverglinted and moved. 

The moon had risen; the hour was come. 

The bordermen tightened their belts, replaced their leggings, tiedtheir hunting coats, loosened their hatchets, looked to the priming oftheir rifles, and were ready. 

Wetzel walked twenty paces and turned. His face was white in themoonlight; his dark eyes softened into a look of love as he grippedhis comrade's outstretched hand. 

Then he dropped flat on the ground, carefully saw to the position ofhis rifle, and began to creep. Jonathan kept close at his heels. 

Slowly but steadily they crawled, minute after minute. The hazel-nutbushes above them had not yet shed their leaves; the ground was cleanand hard, and the course fatefully perfect for their deadly purpose. 

A slight rustling of their buckskin garments sounded like the rustlingof leaves in a faint breeze. 

The moon came out above the trees and still Wetzel advanced softly, steadily, surely. 

The owl, lonely sentinel of that wood, hooted dismally. Even his nighteyes, which made the darkness seem clear as day, missed those glidingfigures. Even he, sure guardian of the wilderness, failed the savages. 

Jonathan felt soft moss beneath him; he was now in the woods under thetrees. The thicket had been passed. 

Wetzel's moccasin pressed softly against Jonathan's head. The firstsignal!

Jonathan crawled forward, and slightly raised himself. 

He was on a rock. The trees were thick and gloomy. Below, the littlehollow was almost in the wan moonbeams. Dark figures lay closetogether. Two savages paced noiselessly to and fro. A slight formrolled in a blanket lay against a tree. 

Jonathan felt his arm gently squeezed. 

The second signal!

Slowly he thrust forward his rifle, and raised it in unison withWetzel's. Slowly he rose to his feet as if the same muscles guidedthem both. 

Over his head a twig snapped. In the darkness he had not seen a lowbranch. 

The Indian guards stopped suddenly, and became motionless as stone. 

They had heard; but too late. 

With the blended roar of the rifles both dropped, lifeless. 

Almost under the spouting flame and white cloud of smoke, Jonathanleaped behind Wetzel, over the bank. His yells were mingled withWetzel's vengeful cry. Like leaping shadows the bordermen were upontheir foes. 

An Indian sprang up, raised a weapon, and fell beneath Jonathan'ssavage blow, to rise no more. Over his prostrate body the bordermanbounded. A dark, nimble form darted upon the captive. He swung high ablade that shone like silver in the moonlight. His shrill war-cry ofdeath rang out with Helen's scream of despair. Even as he swung backher head with one hand in her long hair, his arm descended; but itfell upon the borderman's body. Jonathan and the Indian rolled uponthe moss. There was a terrific struggle, a whirling blade, a dull blowwhich silenced the yell, and the borderman rose alone. 

He lifted Helen as if she were a child, leaped the brook, and plungedinto the thicket. 

The noise of the fearful conflict he left behind, swelled high andhideously on the night air. Above the shrill cries of the Indians, andthe furious yells of Legget, rose the mad, booming roar of Wetzel. Norifle cracked; but sodden blows, the clash of steel, the threshing ofstruggling men, told of the dreadful strife. 

Jonathan gained the woods, sped through the moonlit glades, and far onunder light and shadow. 

The shrill cries ceased; only the hoarse yells and the mad roar couldbe heard. Gradually these also died away, and the forest was still. 

CHAPTER XXI

Next morning, when the mist was breaking and rolling away under thewarm rays of the Indian-summer sun, Jonathan Zane beached his canoe onthe steep bank before Fort Henry. A pioneer, attracted by theborderman's halloo, ran to the bluff and sounded the alarm with shrillwhoops. Among the hurrying, brown-clad figures that answered thissummons, was Colonel Zane. 

"It's Jack, kurnel, an' he's got her!" cried one. 

The doughty colonel gained the bluff to see his brother climbing thebank with a white-faced girl in his arms. 

"Well?" he asked, looking darkly at Jonathan. Nothing kindly or genialwas visible in his manner now; rather grim and forbidding he seemed, thus showing he had the same blood in his veins as the borderman. 

"Lend a hand, " said Jonathan. "As far as I know she's not hurt. "

They carried Helen toward Colonel Zane's cabin. Many women of thesettlement saw them as they passed, and looked gravely at one another, but none spoke. This return of an abducted girl was by no means astrange event. 

"Somebody run for Sheppard, " ordered Colonel Zane, as they entered hiscabin. 

Betty, who was in the sitting-room, sprang up and cried: "Oh! Eb! Eb!Don't say she's----"

"No, no, Betts, she's all right. Where's my wife? Ah! Bess, here, getto work. "

The colonel left Helen in the tender, skilful hands of his wife andsister, and followed Jonathan into the kitchen. 

"I was just ready for breakfast when I heard some one yell, " said he. "Come, Jack, eat something. "

They ate in silence. From the sitting-room came excited whispers, ajoyous cry from Betty, and a faint voice. Then heavy, hurryingfootsteps, followed by Sheppard's words of thanks-giving. 

"Where's Wetzel?" began Colonel Zane. 

The borderman shook his head gloomily. 

"Where did you leave him?"

"We jumped Legget's bunch last night, when the moon was about an hourhigh. I reckon about fifteen miles northeast. I got away withthe lass. "

"Ah! Left Lew fighting?"

The borderman answered the question with bowed head. 

"You got off well. Not a hurt that I can see, and more than lucky tosave Helen. Well, Jack, what do you think about Lew?"

"I'm goin' back, " replied Jonathan. 

"No! no!"

The door opened to admit Mrs. Zane. She looked bright and cheerful, "Hello, Jack; glad you're home. Helen's all right, only faint fromhunger and over-exertion. I want something for her to eat--well! youmen didn't leave much. "

Colonel Zane went into the sitting-room. Sheppard sat beside the couchwhere Helen lay, white and wan. Betty and Nell were looking on withtheir hearts in their eyes. Silas Zane was there, and his wife, withseveral women neighbors. 

"Betty, go fetch Jack in here, " whispered the colonel in his sister'sear. "Drag him, if you have to, " he added fiercely. 

The young woman left the room, to reappear directly with her brother. He came in reluctantly. 

As the stern-faced borderman crossed the threshold a smile, beautifulto see, dawned in Helen's eyes. 

"I'm glad to see you're comin' round, " said Jonathan, but he spokedully as if his mind was on other things. 

"She's a little flighty; but a night's sleep will cure that, " criedMrs. Zane from the kitchen. 

"What do you think?" interrupted the colonel. "Jack's not satisfied toget back with Helen unharmed, and a whole skin himself; but he's goingon the trail again. "

"No, Jack, no, no!" cried Betty. 

"What's that I hear?" asked Mrs. Zane as she came in. "Jack's goingout again? Well, all I want to say is that he's as mad as aMarch hare. "

"Jonathan, look here, " said Silas seriously. "Can't you stay homenow?"

"Jack, listen, " whispered Betty, going close to him. "Not one of usever expected to see either you or Helen again, and oh! we are sohappy. Do not go away again. You are a man; you do not know, youcannot understand all a woman feels. She must sit and wait, and hope, and pray for the safe return of husband or brother or sweetheart. Thelong days! Oh, the long sleepless nights, with the wail of the wind inthe pines, and the rain on the roof! It is maddening. Do not leave us!Do not leave me! Do not leave Helen! Say you will not, Jack. "

To these entreaties the borderman remained silent. He stood leaning onhis rifle, a tall, dark, strangely sad and stern man. 

"Helen, beg him to stay!" implored Betty. 

Colonel Zane took Helen's hand, and stroked it. "Yes, " he said, "youask him, lass. I'm sure you can persuade him to stay. "

Helen raised her head. "Is Brandt dead?" she whispered faintly. 

Still the borderman failed to speak, but his silence was not anaffirmative. 

"You said you loved me, " she cried wildly. "You said you loved me, yetyou didn't kill that monster!"

The borderman, moving quickly like a startled Indian, went out of thedoor. 

 * * * * *

Once more Jonathan Zane entered the gloomy, quiet aisles of the forestwith his soft, tireless tread hardly stirring the leaves. 

It was late in the afternoon when he had long left Two Islands behind, and arrived at the scene of Mordaunt's death. Satisfied with thedistance he had traversed, he crawled into a thicket to rest. 

Daybreak found him again on the trail. He made a short cut over theridges and by the time the mist had lifted from the valley he waswithin stalking distance of the glade. He approached this in thefamiliar, slow, cautious manner, and halted behind the big rock fromwhich he and Wetzel had leaped. The wood was solemnly quiet. Notwittering of birds could be heard. The only sign of life was a gaunttimber-wolf slinking away amid the foliage. Under the big tree thesavage who had been killed as he would have murdered Helen, lay acrumpled mass where he had fallen. Two dead Indians were in the centerof the glade, and on the other side were three more bloody, lifelessforms. Wetzel was not there, nor Legget, nor Brandt. 

"I reckoned so, " muttered Jonathan as he studied the scene. The grasshad been trampled, the trees barked, the bushes crushed aside. 

Jonathan went out of the glade a short distance, and, circling it, began to look for Wetzel's trail. He found it, and near the lightfootprints of his comrade were the great, broad moccasin tracks ofthe outlaw. Further searching disclosed the fact that Brandt must havetraveled in line with the others. 

With the certainty that Wetzel had killed three of the Indians, and, in some wonderful manner characteristic of him, routed the outlaws ofwhom he was now in pursuit, Jonathan's smoldering emotion burst forthinto full flame. Love for his old comrade, deadly hatred of theoutlaws, and passionate thirst for their blood, rioted in his heart. 

Like a lynx scenting its quarry, the borderman started on the trail, tireless and unswervable. The traces left by the fleeing outlaws andtheir pursuer were plain to Jonathan. It was not necessary for him tostop. Legget and Brandt, seeking to escape the implacable Nemesis, were traveling with all possible speed, regardless of the broad trailsuch hurried movements left behind. They knew full well it would bedifficult to throw this wolf off the scent; understood that if anyattempt was made to ambush the trail, they must cope with woodcraftkeener than an Indian's. Flying in desperation, they hoped to reachthe rocky retreat, where, like foxes in their burrows, they believedthemselves safe. 

When the sun sloped low toward the western horizon, lengtheningJonathan's shadow, he slackened pace. He was entering the rocky, rugged country which marked the approach to the distant Alleghenies. From the top of a ridge he took his bearings, deciding that he waswithin a few miles of Legget's hiding-place. 

At the foot of this ridge, where a murmuring brook sped softly overits bed, he halted. Here a number of horses had forded the brook. Theywere iron-shod, which indicated almost to a certainty, that they werestolen horses, and in the hands of Indians. 

Jonathan saw where the trail of the steeds was merged into that ofthe outlaws. He suspected that the Indians and Legget had held a shortcouncil. As he advanced the borderman found only the faintestimpression of Wetzel's trail. Legget and Brandt no longer left anytoken of their course. They were riding the horses. 

All the borderman cared to know was if Wetzel still pursued. He passedon swiftly up a hill, through a wood of birches where the trail showedon a line of broken ferns, then out upon a low ridge where patches ofgrass grew sparsely. Here he saw in this last ground no indication ofhis comrade's trail; nothing was to be seen save the imprints of thehorses' hoofs. Jonathan halted behind the nearest underbrush. Thissudden move on the part of Wetzel was token that, suspecting anambush, he had made a detour somewhere, probably in the groveof birches. 

All the while his eyes searched the long, barren reach ahead. Nothicket, fallen tree, or splintered rocks, such as Indians utilizedfor an ambush, could be seen. Indians always sought the densely mattedunderbrush, a windfall, or rocky retreat and there awaited a pursuer. It was one of the borderman's tricks of woodcraft that he couldrecognize such places. 

Far beyond the sandy ridge Jonathan came to a sloping, woodedhillside, upon which were scattered big rocks, some mossy andlichen-covered, and one, a giant boulder, with a crown of ferns andlaurel gracing its flat surface. It was such a place as the savageswould select for ambush. He knew, however, that if an Indian hadhidden himself there Wetzel would have discovered him. When oppositethe rock Jonathan saw a broken fern hanging over the edge. The heavytrail of the horses ran close beside it. 

Then with that thoroughness of search which made the borderman whathe was, Jonathan leaped upon the rock. There, lying in the midst ofthe ferns, lay an Indian with sullen, somber face set in the repose ofdeath. In his side was a small bullet hole. 

Jonathan examined the savage's rifle. It had been discharged. Therock, the broken fern, the dead Indian, the discharged rifle, told thestory of that woodland tragedy. 

Wetzel had discovered the ambush. Leaving the trail, he had trickedthe redskin into firing, then getting a glimpse of the Indian's redbody through the sights of his fatal weapon, the deed was done. 

With greater caution Jonathan advanced once more. Not far beyond therock he found Wetzel's trail. The afternoon was drawing to a close. Hecould not travel much farther, yet he kept on, hoping to overtake hiscomrade before darkness set in. From time to time he whistled; but gotno answering signal. 

When the tracks of the horses were nearly hidden by the gatheringdusk, Jonathan decided to halt for the night. He whistled one morenote, louder and clearer, and awaited the result with strained ears. The deep silence of the wilderness prevailed, suddenly to be broken bya faint, far-away, melancholy call of the hermit-thrush. It was theanswering signal the borderman had hoped to hear. 

Not many moments elapsed before he heard another call, low, and nearat hand, to which he replied. The bushes parted noiselessly on hisleft, and the tall form of Wetzel appeared silently out of the gloom. 

The two gripped hands in silence. 

"Hev you any meat?" Wetzel asked, and as Jonathan handed him hisknapsack, he continued, "I was kinder lookin' fer you. Did you get outall right with the lass?"

"Nary a scratch. "

The giant borderman grunted his satisfaction. 

"How'd Legget and Brandt get away?" asked Jonathan. 

"Cut an' run like scared bucks. Never got a hand on either of 'em. "

"How many redskins did they meet back here a spell?"

"They was seven; but now there are only six, an' all snug in Legget'splace by this time. "

"I reckon we're near his den. "

"We're not far off. "

Night soon closing down upon the bordermen found them wrapped inslumber, as if no deadly foes were near at hand. The soft night windsighed dismally among the bare trees. A few bright stars twinkledoverhead. In the darkness of the forest the bordermen were at home. 

CHAPTER XXII

In Legget's rude log cabin a fire burned low, lightening the forms ofthe two border outlaws, and showing in the background the dark formsof Indians sitting motionless on the floor. Their dusky eyes emitted abaleful glint, seemingly a reflection of their savage souls caught bythe firelight. Legget wore a look of ferocity and sullen fearstrangely blended. Brandt's face was hard and haggard, his lips set, his gray eyes smoldering. 

"Safe?" he hissed. "Safe you say? You'll see that it's the same now ason the other night, when those border-tigers jumped us and we ranlike cowards. I'd have fought it out here, but for you. "

"Thet man Wetzel is ravin' mad, I tell you, " growled Legget. "I reckonI've stood my ground enough to know I ain't no coward. But thisfellar's crazy. He hed the Injuns slashin' each other like a pack ofwolves round a buck. "

"He's no more mad than you or I, " declared Brandt. "I know all abouthim. His moaning in the woods, and wild yells are only tricks. Heknows the Indian nature, and he makes their very superstition andreligion aid him in his fighting. I told you what he'd do. Didn't Ibeg you to kill Zane when we had a chance? Wetzel would never havetaken our trail alone. Now they've beat me out of the girl, and assure as death will round us up here. "

"You don't believe they'll rush us here?" asked Legget. 

"They're too keen to take foolish chances, but something will be donewe don't expect. Zane was a prisoner here; he had a good look at thisplace, and you can gamble he'll remember. "

"Zane must hev gone back to Fort Henry with the girl. "

"Mark what I say, he'll come back!"

"Wal, we kin hold this place against all the men Eb Zane may put out. "

"He won't send a man, " snapped Brandt passionately. "Remember this, Legget, we're not to fight against soldiers, settlers, or hunters; butbordermen--understand--bordermen! Such as have been developed righthere on this bloody frontier, and nowhere else on earth. They haven'tfear in them. Both are fleet as deer in the woods. They can't be seenor trailed. They can snuff a candle with a rifle ball in the dark. I've seen Zane do it three times at a hundred yards. And Wetzel! Hewouldn't waste powder on practicing. They can't be ambushed, or shakenoff a track; they take the scent like buzzards, and have eyeslike eagles. "

"We kin slip out of here under cover of night, " suggested Legget. 

"Well, what then? That's all they want. They'd be on us again bysunset. No! we've got to stand our ground and fight. We'll stay aslong as we can; but they'll rout us out somehow, be sure of that. Andif one of us pokes his nose out to the daylight, it will be shot off. "

"You're sore, an' you've lost your nerve, " said Legget harshly. "Soreat me 'cause I got sweet on the girl. Ho! ho!"

Brandt shot a glance at Legget which boded no good. His strong handsclenched in an action betraying the reckless rage in his heart. Thenhe carefully removed his hunting coat, and examined his wound. Heretied the bandage, muttering gloomily, "I'm so weak as to belight-headed. If this cut opens again, it's all day for me. "

After that the inmates of the hut were quiet. The huge outlaw bowedhis shaggy head for a while, and then threw himself on a pile ofhemlock boughs. Brandt was not long in seeking rest. Soon both werefast asleep. Two of the savages passed out with cat-like step, leavingthe door open. The fire had burned low, leaving a bed of dead coals. Outside in the dark a waterfall splashed softly. 

The darkest hour came, and passed, and paled slowly to gray. Birdsbegan to twitter. Through the door of the cabin the light of daystreamed in. The two Indian sentinels were building a fire on thestone hearth. One by one the other savages got up, stretched andyawned, and began the business of the day by cooking their breakfast. It was, apparently, every one for himself. 

Legget arose, shook himself like a shaggy dog, and was starting forthe door when one of the sentinels stopped him. Brandt, who was nowawake, saw the action, and smiled. 

In a few moments Indians and outlaws were eating for breakfast roastedstrips of venison, with corn meal baked brown, which served as bread. It was a somber, silent group. 

Presently the shrill neigh of a horse startled them. Following it, thewhip-like crack of a rifle stung and split the morning air. Hard onthis came an Indian's long, wailing death-cry. 

"Hah!" exclaimed Brandt. 

Legget remained immovable. One of the savages peered out through alittle port-hole at the rear of the hut. The others continuedtheir meal. 

"Whistler'll come in presently to tell us who's doin' thet shootin', "said Legget. "He's a keen Injun. "

"He's not very keen now, " replied Brandt, with bitter certainty. "He'swhat the settlers call a good Indian, which is to say, dead!"

Legget scowled at his lieutenant. 

"I'll go an' see, " he replied and seized his rifle. 

He opened the door, when another rifle-shot rang out. A bulletwhistled in the air, grazing the outlaw's shoulder, and imbeddeditself in the heavy door-frame. 

Legget leaped back with a curse. 

"Close shave!" said Brandt coolly. "That bullet came, probably, straight down from the top of the cliff. Jack Zane's there. Wetzel islower down watching the outlet. We're trapped. "

"Trapped, " shouted Legget with an angry leer. "We kin live herelonger'n the bordermen kin. We've meat on hand, an' a good spring inthe back of the hut. How'er we trapped?"

"We won't live twenty-four hours, " declared Brandt. 

"Why?"

"Because we'll be routed out. They'll find some way to do it, andwe'll never have another chance to fight in the open, as we had theother night when they came after the girl. From now on there'll be nosleep, no time to eat, the nameless fear of an unseen foe who can't beshaken off, marching by night, hiding and starving by day, until----!I'd rather be back in Fort Henry at Colonel Zane's mercy. "

Legget turned a ghastly face toward Brandt. "Look a here. You'retakin' a lot of glee in sayin' these things. I believe you've lostyour nerve, or the lettin' out of a little blood hes made you wobbly. We've Injuns here, an' ought to be a match fer two men. "

Brandt gazed at him with a derisive smile. 

"We kin go out an' fight these fellars, " continued Legget. "We mighttry their own game, hidin' an' crawlin' through the woods. "

"We two would have to go it alone. If you still had your trusty, trained band of experienced Indians, I'd say that would be just thething. But Ashbow and the Chippewa are dead; so are the others. Thisbunch of redskins here may do to steal a few horses; but they don'tamount to much against Zane and Wetzel. Besides, they'll cut and runpresently, for they're scared and suspicious. Look at the chief;ask him. "

The savage Brandt indicated was a big Indian just coming into manhood. His swarthy face still retained some of the frankness andsimplicity of youth. 

"Chief, " said Legget in the Indian tongue. "The great paleface hunter, Deathwind, lies hid in the woods. "

"Last night the Shawnee heard the wind of death mourn through thetrees, " replied the chief gloomily. 

"See! What did I say?" cried Brandt. "The superstitious fool! Hewould begin his death-chant almost without a fight. We can't count onthe redskins. What's to be done?"

The outlaw threw himself upon the bed of boughs, and Legget sat downwith his rifle across his knees. The Indians maintained the samestoical composure. The moments dragged by into hours. 

"Ugh!" suddenly exclaimed the Indian at the end of the hut. 

Legget ran to him, and acting upon a motion of the Indian's hand, looked out through the little port-hole. 

The sun was high. He saw four of the horses grazing by the brook; thengazed scrutinizingly from the steep waterfall, along the green-stainedcliff to the dark narrow cleft in the rocks. Here was the only outletfrom the inclosure. He failed to discover anything unusual. 

The Indian grunted again, and pointed upward. 

"Smoke! There's smoke risin' above the trees, " cried Legget. "Brandt, come here. What's thet mean?"

Brandt hurried, looked out. His face paled, his lower jaw protruded, quivered, and then was shut hard. He walked away, put his foot on abench and began to lace his leggings. 

"Wal?" demanded Legget. 

"The game's up! Get ready to run and be shot at, " cried Brandt with ahiss of passion. 

Almost as he spoke the roof of the hut shook under a heavy blow. 

"What's thet?" No one replied. Legget glanced from Brandt's cold, determined face to the uneasy savages. They were restless, andhandling their weapons. The chief strode across the floor withstealthy steps. 

"Thud!"

A repetition of the first blow caused the Indians to jump, and drew afierce imprecation from their outlaw leader. 

Brandt eyed him narrowly. "It's coming to you, Legget. They areshooting arrows of fire into the roof from the cliff. Zane is doin'that. He can make a bow and draw one, too. We're to be burned out. Now, damn you! take your medicine! I wanted you to kill him when youhad the chance. If you had done so we'd never have come to this. Burned out, do you get that? Burned out!"

"Fire!" exclaimed Legget. He sat down as if the strength had left hislegs. 

The Indians circled around the room like caged tigers. 

"Ugh!" The chief suddenly reached up and touched the birch-bark roofof the hut. 

His action brought the attention of all to a faint crackling ofburning wood. 

"It's caught all right, " cried Brandt in a voice which cut the airlike a blow from a knife. 

"I'll not be smoked like a ham, fer all these tricky bordermen, "roared Legget. Drawing his knife he hacked at the heavy buckskinhinges of the rude door. When it dropped free he measured it againstthe open space. Sheathing the blade, he grasped his rifle in his righthand and swung the door on his left arm. Heavy though it was hecarried it easily. The roughly hewn planks afforded a capital shieldfor all except the lower portion of his legs and feet. He went out ofthe hut with the screen of wood between himself and the cliff, callingfor the Indians to follow. They gathered behind him, breathing hard, clutching their weapons, and seemingly almost crazed by excitement. 

Brandt, with no thought of joining this foolhardy attempt to escapefrom the inclosure, ran to the little port-hole that he might see theoutcome. Legget and his five redskins were running toward the narrowoutlet in the gorge. The awkward and futile efforts of the Indians toremain behind the shield were almost pitiful. They crowded each otherfor favorable positions, but, struggle as they might, one or two werealways exposed to the cliff. Suddenly one, pushed to the rear, stoppedsimultaneously with the crack of a rifle, threw up his arms and fell. Another report, differing from the first, rang out. A savage staggeredfrom behind the speeding group with his hand at his side. Then hedropped into the brook. 

Evidently Legget grasped this as a golden opportunity, for he threwaside the heavy shield and sprang forward, closely followed by hisred-skinned allies. Immediately they came near the cliff, where thetrail ran into the gorge, a violent shaking of the dry ferns overheadmade manifest the activity of some heavy body. Next instant a hugeyellow figure, not unlike a leaping catamount, plunged down with aroar so terrible as to sound inhuman. Legget, Indians, and newcomerrolled along the declivity toward the brook in an indistinguishablemass. 

Two of the savages shook themselves free, and bounded to their feetnimbly as cats, but Legget and the other redskin became engaged in aterrific combat. It was a wrestling whirl, so fierce and rapid as torender blows ineffectual. The leaves scattered as if in a whirlwind. Legget's fury must have been awful, to judge from his hoarse screams;the Indians' fear maddening, as could be told by their shrieks. Thetwo savages ran wildly about the combatants, one trying to level arifle, the other to get in a blow with a tomahawk. But the movementsof the trio, locked in deadly embrace, were too swift. 

Above all the noise of the contest rose that strange, thrilling roar. 

"Wetzel!" muttered Brandt, with a chill, creeping shudder as he gazedupon the strife with fascinated eyes. 

"Bang!" Again from the cliff came that heavy bellow. 

The savage with the rifle shrunk back as if stung, and without a cryfell limply in a heap. His companion, uttering a frightened cry, fledfrom the glen. 

The struggle seemed too deadly, too terrible, to last long. The Indianand the outlaw were at a disadvantage. They could not strike freely. The whirling conflict grew more fearful. During one second the huge, brown, bearish figure of Legget appeared on top; then the dark-bodied, half-naked savage, spotted like a hyena, and finally the lithe, powerful, tiger-shape of the borderman. 

Finally Legget wrenched himself free at the same instant that thebloody-stained Indian rolled, writhing in convulsions, away fromWetzel. The outlaw dashed with desperate speed up the trail, anddisappeared in the gorge. The borderman sped toward the cliff, leapedon a projecting ledge, grasped an overhanging branch, and pulledhimself up. He was out of sight almost as quickly as Legget. 

"After his rifle, " Brandt muttered, and then realized that he hadwatched the encounter without any idea of aiding his comrade. Heconsoled himself with the knowledge that such an attempt would havebeen useless. From the moment the borderman sprang upon Legget, untilhe scaled the cliff, his movements had been incredibly swift. It wouldhave been hardly possible to cover him with a rifle, and the outlawgrimly understood that he needed to be careful of that charge inhis weapon. 

"By Heavens, Wetzel's a wonder!" cried Brandt in unwilling admiration. "Now he'll go after Legget and the redskin, while Zane stays here toget me. Well, he'll succeed, most likely, but I'll never quit. What's this?"

He felt something slippery and warm on his hand. It was blood runningfrom the inside of his sleeve. A slight pain made itself felt in hisside. Upon examination he found, to his dismay, that his wound hadreopened. With a desperate curse he pulled a linsey jacket off a peg, tore it into strips, and bound up the injury as tightly as possible. 

Then he grasped his rifle, and watched the cliff and the gorge withflaring eyes. Suddenly he found it difficult to breathe; his throatwas parched, his eyes smarted. Then the odor of wood-smoke brought himto a realization that the cabin was burning. It was only now heunderstood that the room was full of blue clouds. He sank into thecorner, a wolf at bay. 

Not many moments passed before the outlaw understood that he could notwithstand the increasing heat and stifling vapor of the room. Piecesof burning birch dropped from the roof. The crackling above grew intoa steady roar. 

"I've got to run for it, " he gasped. Death awaited him outside thedoor, but that was more acceptable than death by fire. Yet to face thefinal moment when he desired with all his soul to live, requiredalmost super-human courage. Sweating, panting, he glared around. "God!Is there no other way?" he cried in agony. At this moment he saw an axon the floor. 

Seizing it he attacked the wall of the cabin. Beyond this partitionwas a hut which had been used for a stable. Half a dozen strokes ofthe ax opened a hole large enough for him to pass through. With hisrifle, and a piece of venison which hung near, he literally fellthrough the hole, where he lay choking, almost fainting. After a timehe crawled across the floor to a door. Outside was a dense laurelthicket, into which he crawled. 

The crackling and roaring of the fire grew louder. He could see thecolumn of yellow and black smoke. Once fairly under way, the flamesrapidly consumed the pitch-pine logs. In an hour Legget's cabins werea heap of ashes. 

The afternoon waned. Brandt lay watchful, slowly recovering hisstrength. He felt secure under this cover, and only prayed for nightto come. As the shadows began to creep down the sides of the cliffs, he indulged in hope. If he could slip out in the dark he had a goodchance to elude the borderman. In the passionate desire to escape, hehad forgotten his fatalistic words to Legget. He reasoned that hecould not be trailed until daylight; that a long night's march wouldput him far in the lead, and there was just a possibility of Zane'shaving gone away with Wetzel. 

When darkness had set in he slipped out of the covert and began hisjourney for life. Within a few yards he reached the brook. He had onlyto follow its course in order to find the outlet to the glen. Moreover, its rush and gurgle over the stones would drown any slightnoise he might make. 

Slowly, patiently he crawled, stopping every moment to listen. What along time he was in coming to the mossy stones over which the brookdashed through the gorge! But he reached them at last. Here ifanywhere Zane would wait for him. 

With teeth clenched desperately, and an inward tightening of hischest, for at any moment he expected to see the red flame of a rifle, he slipped cautiously over the mossy stones. Finally his hands touchedthe dewy grass, and a breath of cool wind fanned his hot cheek. He hadsucceeded in reaching the open. Crawling some rods farther on, he laystill a while and listened. The solemn wilderness calm was unbroken. Rising, he peered about. Behind loomed the black hill with its narrowcleft just discernible. Facing the north star, he went silently outinto the darkness. 

CHAPTER XXIII

At daylight Jonathan Zane rolled from his snug bed of leaves under theside of a log, and with the flint, steel and punk he always carried, began building a fire. His actions were far from being hurried. Theywere deliberate, and seemed strange on the part of a man whose sternface suggested some dark business to be done. When his little fire hadbeen made, he warmed some slices of venison which had already beencooked, and thus satisfied his hunger. Carefully extinguishing thefire and looking to the priming of his rifle, he was ready forthe trail. 

He stood near the edge of the cliff from which he could command a viewof the glen. The black, smoldering ruins of the burned cabins defaceda picturesque scene. 

"Brandt must have lit out last night, for I could have seen even arabbit hidin' in that laurel patch. He's gone, an' it's what Iwanted, " thought the borderman. 

He made his way slowly around the edge of the inclosure and clambereddown on the splintered cliff at the end of the gorge. A wide, well-trodden trail extended into the forest below. Jonathan gavescarcely a glance to the beaten path before him; but bent keen eyes tothe north, and carefully scrutinized the mossy stones along the brook. Upon a little sand bar running out from the bank he found the lightimprint of a hand. 

"It was a black night. He'd have to travel by the stars, an' north'sthe only safe direction for him, " muttered the borderman. 

On the bank above he found oblong indentations in the grass, barelyperceptible, but owing to the peculiar position of the blades ofgrass, easy for him to follow. 

"He'd better have learned to walk light as an Injun before he took tooutlawin', " said the borderman in disdain. Then he returned to thegorge and entered the inclosure. At the foot of the little rise ofground where Wetzel had leaped upon his quarry, was one of the deadIndians. Another lay partly submerged in the brown water. 

Jonathan carried the weapons of the savages to a dry place under aprojecting ledge in the cliff. Passing on down the glen, he stopped amoment where the cabins had stood. Not a log remained. The horses, with the exception of two, were tethered in the copse of laurel. Herecognized Colonel Zane's thoroughbred, and Betty's pony. He cut themloose, positive they would not stray from the glen, and might easilybe secured at another time. 

He set out upon the trail of Brandt with a long, swinging stride. Tohim the outcome of that pursuit was but a question of time. Theconsciousness of superior endurance, speed, and craft, spoke in hisevery movement. The consciousness of being in right, a factor sopowerfully potent for victory, spoke in the intrepid front with whichhe faced the north. 

It was a gloomy November day. Gray, steely clouds drifted overhead. The wind wailed through the bare trees, sending dead leaves scurryingand rustling over the brown earth. 

The borderman advanced with a step that covered glade and glen, forestand field, with astonishing swiftness. Long since he had seen thatBrandt was holding to the lowland. This did not strike him as singularuntil for the third time he found the trail lead a short distance upthe side of a ridge, then descend, seeking a level. With thisdiscovery came the certainty that Brandt's pace was lessening. He hadset out with a hunter's stride, but it had begun to shorten. Theoutlaw had shirked the hills, and shifted from his northern course. Why? The man was weakening; he could not climb; he was favoringa wound. 

What seemed more serious for the outlaw, was the fact that he had lefta good trail, and entered the low, wild land north of the Ohio. Eventhe Indians seldom penetrated this tangled belt of laurel and thorn. Owing to the dry season the swamps were shallow, which was anotherfactor against Brandt. No doubt he had hoped to hide his trail bywading, and here it showed up like the track of a bison. 

Jonathan kept steadily on, knowing the farther Brandt penetrated intothis wilderness the worse off he would be. The outlaw dared not taketo the river until below Fort Henry, which was distant many a wearymile. The trail grew more ragged as the afternoon wore away. Whentwilight rendered further tracking impossible, the borderman built afire in a sheltered place, ate his supper, and went to sleep. 

In the dim, gray morning light he awoke, fancying he had been startledby a distant rifle shot. He roasted his strips of venison carefully, and ate with a hungry hunter's appreciation, yet sparingly, asbefitted a borderman who knew how to keep up his strength upon along trail. 

Hardly had he traveled a mile when Brandt's footprints coveredanother's. Nothing surprised the borderman; but he had expected thisleast of all. A hasty examination convinced him that Legget and hisIndian ally had fled this way with Wetzel in pursuit. 

The morning passed slowly. The borderman kept to the trail like ahound. The afternoon wore on. Over sandy reaches thick with willows, and through long, matted, dried-out cranberry marshes and copses ofprickly thorn, the borderman hung to his purpose. His legs seemednever to lose their spring, but his chest began to heave, his headbent, and his face shone with sweat. 

At dusk he tired. Crawling into a dry thicket, he ate his scanty mealand fell asleep. When he awoke it was gray daylight. He was wet andchilled. Again he kindled a fire, and sat over it while cookingbreakfast. 

Suddenly he was brought to his feet by the sound of a rifle shot; thentwo others followed in rapid succession. Though they were faint, andfar away to the west, Jonathan recognized the first, which could havecome only from Wetzel's weapon, and he felt reasonably certain of thethird, which was Brandt's. There might have been, he reflected grimly, a good reason for Legget's not shooting. However, he knew that Wetzelhad rounded up the fugitives, and again he set out. 

It was another dismal day, such a one as would be fitting for a darkdeed of border justice. A cold, drizzly rain blew from the northwest. Jonathan wrapped a piece of oil-skin around his rifle-breech, andfaced the downfall. Soon he was wet to the skin. He kept on, but hisfree stride had shortened. Even upon his iron muscles this soggy, sticky ground had begun to tell. 

The morning passed but the storm did not; the air grew colder anddarker. The short afternoon would afford him little time, especiallyas the rain and running rills of water were obliterating the trail. 

In the midst of a dense forest of great cottonwoods and sycamores hecame upon a little pond, hidden among the bushes, and shrouded in awindy, wet gloom. Jonathan recognized the place. He had been there inwinter hunting bears when all the swampland was locked by ice. 

The borderman searched along the banks for a time, then went back tothe trail, patiently following it. Around the pond it led to the sideof a great, shelving rock. He saw an Indian leaning against this, andwas about to throw forward his rifle when the strange, fixed, positionof the savage told of the tragedy. A wound extended from his shoulderto his waist. Near by on the ground lay Legget. He, too, was dead. Hisgigantic frame weltered in blood. His big feet were wide apart; hisarms spread, and from the middle of his chest protruded the haft ofa knife. 

The level space surrounding the bodies showed evidence of a desperatestruggle. A bush had been rolled upon and crushed by heavy bodies. Onthe ground was blood as on the stones and leaves. The blade Leggetstill clutched was red, and the wrist of the hand which held it showeda dark, discolored band, where it had felt the relentless grasp ofWetzel's steel grip. The dead man's buckskin coat was cut intoribbons. On his broad face a demoniacal expression had set in eternalrigidity; the animal terror of death was frozen in his wide staringeyes. The outlaw chief had died as he had lived, desperately. 

Jonathan found Wetzel's trail leading directly toward the river, andsoon understood that the borderman was on the track of Brandt. Theborderman had surprised the worn, starved, sleepy fugitives in thegray, misty dawn. The Indian, doubtless, was the sentinel, and hadfallen asleep at his post never to awaken. Legget and Brandt must havedischarged their weapons ineffectually. Zane could not understand whyhis comrade had missed Brandt at a few rods' distance. Perhaps he hadwounded the younger outlaw; but certainly he had escaped while Wetzelhad closed in on Legget to meet the hardest battle of his career. 

While going over his version of the attack, Jonathan followed Brandt'strail, as had Wetzel, to where it ended in the river. The oldborderman had continued on down stream along the sandy shore. Theoutlaw remained in the water to hide his trail. 

At one point Wetzel turned north. This move puzzled Jonathan, as didalso the peculiar tracks. It was more perplexing because not far belowZane discovered where the fugitive had left the water to get around aledge of rock. 

The trail was approaching Fort Henry. Jonathan kept on down the riveruntil arriving at the head of the island which lay opposite thesettlement. Still no traces of Wetzel! Here Zane lost Brandt's trailcompletely. He waded the first channel, which was shallow and narrow, and hurried across the island. Walking out upon a sand-bar he signaledwith his well-known Indian cry. Almost immediately came ananswering shout. 

While waiting he glanced at the sand, and there, pointing straighttoward the fort, he found Brandt's straggling trail!

CHAPTER XXIV

Colonel Zane paced to and fro on the porch. His genial smile had notreturned; he was grave and somber. Information had just reached himthat Jonathan had hailed from the island, and that one of the settlershad started across the river in a boat. 

Betty came out accompanied by Mrs. Zane. 

"What's this I hear?" asked Betty, flashing an anxious glance towardthe river. "Has Jack really come in?"

"Yes, " replied the colonel, pointing to a throng of men on the riverbank. 

"Now there'll be trouble, " said Mrs. Zane nervously. "I wish with allmy heart Brandt had not thrown himself, as he called it, onyour mercy. "

"So do I, " declared Colonel Zane. 

"What will be done?" she asked. "There! that's Jack! Silas has hold ofhis arm. "

"He's lame. He has been hurt, " replied her husband. 

A little procession of men and boys followed the borderman from theriver, and from the cabins appeared the settlers and their wives. Butthere was no excitement except among the children. The crowd filedinto the colonel's yard behind Jonathan and Silas. 

Colonel Zane silently greeted his brother with an iron grip of thehand which was more expressive than words. No unusual sight was it tosee the borderman wet, ragged, bloody, worn with long marches, hollow-eyed and gloomy; yet he had never before presented such anappearance at Fort Henry. Betty ran forward, and, though she claspedhis arm, shrank back. There was that in the borderman's presence tocause fear. 

"Wetzel?" Jonathan cried sharply. 

The colonel raised both hands, palms open, and returned his brother'skeen glance. Then he spoke. "Lew hasn't come in. He chased Brandtacross the river. That's all I know. "

"Brandt's here, then?" hissed the borderman. 

The colonel nodded gloomily. 

"Where?"

"In the long room over the fort. I locked him in there. "

"Why did he come here?"

Colonel Zane shrugged his shoulders. "It's beyond me. He said he'drather place himself in my hands than be run down by Wetzel or you. Hedidn't crawl; I'll say that for him. He just said, 'I'm yourprisoner. ' He's in pretty bad shape; barked over the temple, lame inone foot, cut under the arm, starved and worn out. "

"Take me to him, " said the borderman, and he threw his rifle on abench. 

"Very well. Come along, " replied the colonel. He frowned at thosefollowing them. "Here, you women, clear out!" But they did notobey him. 

It was a sober-faced group that marched in through the big stockadegate, under the huge, bulging front of the fort, and up the roughstairway. Colonel Zane removed a heavy bar from before a door, andthrust it open with his foot. The long guardroom brilliantly lightedby sunshine coming through the portholes, was empty save for a raggedman lying on a bench. 

The noise aroused him; he sat up, and then slowly labored to his feet. It was the same flaring, wild-eyed Brandt, only fiercer and morehaggard. He wore a bloody bandage round his head. When he saw theborderman he backed, with involuntary, instinctive action, against thewall, yet showed no fear. 

In the dark glance Jonathan shot at Brandt shone a pitilessimplacability; no scorn, nor hate, nor passion, but something which, had it not been so terrible, might have been justice. 

"I think Wetzel was hurt in the fight with Legget, " said Jonathandeliberately, "an' ask if you know?"

"I believe he was, " replied Brandt readily. "I was asleep when hejumped us, and was awakened by the Indian's yell. Wetzel must havetaken a snap shot at me as I was getting up, which accounts, probably, for my being alive. I fell, but did not lose consciousness. I heardWetzel and Legget fighting, and at last struggled to my feet. Althoughdizzy and bewildered, I could see to shoot; but missed. For a longtime, it seemed to me, I watched that terrible fight, and then ran, finally reaching the river, where I recovered somewhat. "

"Did you see Wetzel again?"

"Once, about a quarter of a mile behind me. He was staggering along onmy trail. "

At this juncture there was a commotion among the settlers crowdingbehind Colonel Zane and Jonathan, and Helen Sheppard appeared, white, with her big eyes strangely dilated. 

"Oh!" she cried breathlessly, clasping both hands around Jonathan'sarm. "I'm not too late? You're not going to----"

"Helen, this is no place for you, " said Colonel Zane sternly. "This isbusiness for men. You must not interfere. "

Helen gazed at him, at Brandt, and then up at the borderman. She didnot loose his arm. 

"Outside some one told me you intended to shoot him. Is it true?"

Colonel Zane evaded the searching gaze of those strained, brillianteyes. Nor did he answer. 

As Helen stepped slowly back a hush fell upon the crowd. Thewhispering, the nervous coughing, and shuffling of feet, ceased. 

In those around her Helen saw the spirit of the border. Colonel Zaneand Silas wore the same look, cold, hard, almost brutal. The womenwere strangely grave. Nellie Douns' sweet face seemed changed; therewas pity, even suffering on it, but no relenting. Even Betty's face, always so warm, piquant, and wholesome, had taken on a shade of doubt, of gloom, of something almost sullen, which blighted its dark beauty. What hurt Helen most cruelly was the borderman's glittering eyes. 

She fought against a shuddering weakness which threatened to overcomeher. 

"Whose prisoner is Brandt?" she asked of Colonel Zane. 

"He gave himself up to me, naturally, as I am in authority here, "replied the colonel. "But that signifies little. I can do no less thanabide by Jonathan's decree, which, after all, is the decree ofthe border. "

"And that is?"

"Death to outlaws and renegades. "

"But cannot you spare him?" implored Helen. "I know he is a bad man;but he might become a better one. It seems like murder to me. To killhim in cold blood, wounded, suffering as he is, when he claimed yourmercy. Oh! it is dreadful!"

The usually kind-hearted colonel, soft as wax in the hands of a girl, was now colder and harder than flint. 

"It is useless, " he replied curtly. "I am sorry for you. We allunderstand your feelings, that yours are not the principles of theborder. If you had lived long here you could appreciate what theseoutlaws and renegades have done to us. This man is a hardenedcriminal; he is a thief, a murderer. "

"He did not kill Mordaunt, " replied Helen quickly. "I saw him drawfirst and attack Brandt. "

"No matter. Come, Helen, cease. No more of this, " Colonel Zane criedwith impatience. 

"But I will not!" exclaimed Helen, with ringing voice and flashingeye. She turned to her girl friends and besought them to intercede forthe outlaw. But Nell only looked sorrowfully on, while Betty met herappealing glance with a fire in her eyes that was no dim reflection ofher brother's. 

"Then I must make my appeal to you, " said Helen, facing the borderman. There could be no mistaking how she regarded him. Respect, honor andlove breathed from every line of her beautiful face. 

"Why do you want him to go free?" demanded Jonathan. "You told me tokill him. "

"Oh, I know. But I was not in my right mind. Listen to me, please. Hemust have been very different once; perhaps had sisters. For theirsake give him another chance. I know he has a better nature. I fearedhim, hated him, scorned him, as if he were a snake, yet he saved mefrom that monster Legget!"

"For himself!"

"Well, yes, I can't deny that. But he could have ruined me, wreckedme, yet he did not. At least, he meant marriage by me. He said if Iwould marry him he would flee over the border and be an honest man. "

"Have you no other reason?"

"Yes. " Helen's bosom swelled and a glory shone in her splendid eyes. "The other reason is, my own happiness!"

Plain to all, if not through her words, from the light in her eyes, that she could not love a man who was a party to what she consideredinjustice. 

The borderman's white face became flaming red. 

It was difficult to refuse this glorious girl any sacrifice shedemanded for the sake of the love so openly avowed. 

Sweetly and pityingly she turned to Brandt: "Will not you help me?"

"Lass, if it were for me you were asking my life I'd swear it yoursfor always, and I'd be a man, " he replied with bitterness; "but not tosave my soul would I ask anything of him. "

The giant passions, hate and jealousy, flamed in his gray eyes. 

"If I persuade them to release you, will you go away, leave thiscountry, and never come back?"

"I'll promise that, lass, and honestly, " he replied. 

She wheeled toward Jonathan, and now the rosy color chased the pallorfrom her cheeks. 

"Jack, do you remember when we parted at my home; when you left onthis terrible trail, now ended, thank God! Do you remember what anordeal that was for me? Must I go through it again?"

Bewitchingly sweet she was then, with the girlish charm of coquetryalmost lost in the deeper, stranger power of the woman. 

The borderman drew his breath sharply; then he wrapped his long armsclosely round her. She, understanding that victory was hers, sankweeping upon his breast. For a moment he bowed his face over her, andwhen he lifted it the dark and terrible gloom had gone. 

"Eb, let him go, an' at once, " ordered Jonathan. "Give him a rifle, some meat, an' a canoe, for he can't travel, an' turn him loose. Onlybe quick about it, because if Wetzel comes in, God himself couldn'tsave the outlaw. "

It was an indescribable glance that Brandt cast upon the tearful faceof the girl who had saved his life. But without a word he followedColonel Zane from the room. 

The crowd slowly filed down the steps. Betty and Nell lingered behind, their eyes beaming through happy tears. Jonathan, long so cold, showedevidence of becoming as quick and passionate a lover as he had been aborderman. At least, Helen had to release herself from his embrace, and it was a blushing, tear-stained face she turned to her friends. 

When they reached the stockade gate Colonel Zane was hurrying towardthe river with a bag in one hand, and a rifle and a paddle in theother. Brandt limped along after him, the two disappearing over theriver bank. 

Betty, Nell, and the lovers went to the edge of the bluff. 

They saw Colonel Zane choose a canoe from among a number on the beach. He launched it, deposited the bag in the bottom, handed the rifle andpaddle to Brandt, and wheeled about. 

The outlaw stepped aboard, and, pushing off slowly, drifted down andout toward mid-stream. When about fifty yards from shore he gave aquick glance around, and ceased paddling. His face gleamed white, andhis eyes glinted like bits of steel in the sun. 

Suddenly he grasped the rifle, and, leveling it with the swiftness ofthought, fired at Jonathan. 

The borderman saw the act, even from the beginning, and must have readthe outlaw's motive, for as the weapon flashed he dropped flat on thebank. The bullet sang harmlessly over him, imbedding itself in thestockade fence with a distinct thud. 

The girls were so numb with horror that they could not even scream. 

Colonel Zane swore lustily. "Where's my gun? Get me a gun. Oh! Whatdid I tell you?"

"Look!" cried Jonathan as he rose to his feet. 

Upon the sand-bar opposite stood a tall, dark, familiar figure. 

"By all that's holy, Wetzel!" exclaimed Colonel Zane. 

They saw the giant borderman raise a long, black rifle, which waveredand fell, and rose again. A little puff of white smoke leaped out, accompanied by a clear, stinging report. 

Brandt dropped the paddle he had hurriedly begun plying after histraitor's act. His white face was turned toward the shore as it sankforward to rest at last upon the gunwale of the canoe. Then his bodyslowly settled, as if seeking repose. His hand trailed outside in thewater, drooping inert and lifeless. The little craft drifteddown stream. 

"You see, Helen, it had to be, " said Colonel Zane gently. "What adastard! A long shot, Jack! Fate itself must have glanced down thesights of Wetzel's rifle. "

CHAPTER XXV

A year rolled round; once again Indian summer veiled the golden fieldsand forests in a soft, smoky haze. Once more from the opal-blue sky ofautumn nights, shone the great white stars, and nature seemed wrappedin a melancholy hush. 

November the third was the anniversary of a memorable event on thefrontier--the marriage of the younger borderman. 

Colonel Zane gave it the name of "Independence Day, " and arranged aholiday, a feast and dance where all the settlement might meet injoyful thankfulness for the first year of freedom on the border. 

With the wiping out of Legget's fierce band, the yoke of the renegadesand outlaws was thrown off forever. Simon Girty migrated to Canada andlived with a few Indians who remained true to him. His confederatesslowly sank into oblivion. The Shawnee tribe sullenly retreatedwestward, far into the interior of Ohio; the Delawares buried the warhatchet, and smoked the pipe of peace they had ever before refused. For them the dark, mysterious, fatal wind had ceased to moan along thetrails, or sigh through tree-tops over lonely Indian camp-fires. 

The beautiful Ohio valley had been wrested from the savages and fromthose parasites who for years had hung around the necks of thered men. 

This day was the happiest of Colonel Zane's life. The task he had sethimself, and which he had hardly ever hoped to see completed, wasended. The West had been won. What Boone achieved in Kentucky he hadaccomplished in Ohio and West Virginia. 

The feast was spread on the colonel's lawn. Every man, woman and childin the settlement was there. Isaac Zane, with his Indian wife andchild, had come from the far-off Huron town. Pioneers from YellowCreek and eastward to Fort Pitt attended. The spirit of the occasionmanifested itself in such joyousness as had never before beenexperienced in Fort Henry. The great feast was equal to the event. Choice cuts of beef and venison, savory viands, wonderful loaves ofbread and great plump pies, sweet cider and old wine, delighted themerry party. 

"Friends, neighbors, dear ones, " said Colonel Zane, "my heart isalmost too full for speech. This occasion, commemorating the day ofour freedom on the border, is the beginning of the reward for sternlabor, hardship, silenced hearths of long, relentless years. I did notthink I'd live to see it. The seed we have sown has taken root; inyears to come, perhaps, a great people will grow up on these farms wecall our homes. And as we hope those coming afterward will rememberus, we should stop a moment to think of the heroes who have gonebefore. Many there are whose names will never be written on the rollof fame, whose graves will be unmarked in history. But we who worked, fought, bled beside them, who saw them die for those they left behind, will render them all justice, honor and love. To them we give thevictory. They were true; then let us, who begin to enjoy the freedom, happiness and prosperity they won with their lives, likewise be truein memory of them, in deed to ourselves, and in grace to God. "

By no means the least of the pleasant features of this pleasant daywas the fact that three couples blushingly presented themselves beforethe colonel, and confided to him their sudden conclusions in regardto the felicitousness of the moment. The happy colonel raced arounduntil he discovered Jim Douns, the minister, and there amid the merrythrong he gave the brides away, being the first to kiss them. 

It was late in the afternoon when the villagers dispersed to theirhomes and left the colonel to his own circle. With his strong, darkface beaming, he mounted the old porch step. 

"Where are my Zane babies?" he asked. "Ah! here you are! Did anybodyever see anything to beat that? Four wonderful babies! Mother, here'syour Daniel--if you'd only named him Eb! Silas, come for Silas junior, bad boy that he is. Isaac, take your Indian princess; ah! littleMyeerah with the dusky face. Woe be to him who looks into those eyeswhen you come to age. Jack, here's little Jonathan, the last of thebordermen; he, too, has beautiful eyes, big like his mother's. Ah!well, I don't believe I have left a wish, unless----"

"Unless?" suggested Betty with her sweet smile. 

"It might be----" he said and looked at her. 

Betty's warm cheek was close to his as she whispered: "Dear Eb!" Therest only the colonel heard. 

"Well! By all that's glorious!" he exclaimed, and attempted to seizeher; but with burning face Betty fled. 

 * * * * *

"Jack, dear, how the leaves are falling!" exclaimed Helen. "See themfloating and whirling. It reminds me of the day I lay a prisoner inthe forest glade praying, waiting for you. "

The borderman was silent. 

They passed down the sandy lane under the colored maple trees, to anew cottage on the hillside. 

"I am perfectly happy to-day, " continued Helen. "Everybody seems to becontent, except you. For the first time in weeks I see that shade onyour face, that look in your eyes. Jack, you do not regret thenew life?"

"My love, no, a thousand times no, " he answered, smiling down into hereyes. They were changing, shadowing with thought; bright as in otherdays, and with an added beauty. The wilful spirit had been softenedby love. 

"Ah, I know, you miss the old friend. "

The yellow thicket on the slope opened to let out a tall, dark man whocame down with lithe and springy stride. 

"Jack, it's Wetzel!" said Helen softly. 

No words were spoken as the comrades gripped hands. 

"Let me see the boy?" asked Wetzel, turning to Helen. 

Little Jonathan blinked up at the grave borderman with great roundeyes, and pulled with friendly, chubby fingers at the fringedbuckskin coat. 

"When you're a man the forest trails will be corn fields, " mutteredWetzel. 

The bordermen strolled together up the brown hillside, and wanderedalong the river bluff. The air was cool; in the west the ruddy lightdarkened behind bold hills; a blue mist streaming in the valley shadedinto gray as twilight fell.