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the spirit of the border-第36章

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

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



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

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

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

one of the cracks。



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

choked in his attempt to prevent an outcry。







Chapter XVIII。



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

within。



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

conscious of her suffering。



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

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

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

his heavy frame against the door。



Crash! The door was burst from its fastenings。



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

for the brute's blood。



But the slight delay saved Girty's life。



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

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

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

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



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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

reserving his strength until his opponent should tire。



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

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

before this he had drawn his knife; and now he used it; plunging the blade

into the young man's side。



Cunning and successful as was the savage's ruse; it failed signally; for to

get hold of the Shawnee was all Joe wanted。 Feeling the sharp pain as they

fell together; he reached his hand behind him and caught Silvertip's wrist。 

Exerting all his power; he wrenched the Indian's arm so that it was not only

dislocated; but the bones cracked。



Silvertip saw his fatal mistake; but he uttered no sound。 Crippled; though he

was; he yet made a supreme effort; but it was as if he had been in the hands

of a giant。 The lad handled him with remorseless and resistless fury。 Suddenly

he grasped the knife; which Silvertip had been unable to hold with his

crippled hand; and thrust it deeply into the Indian's side。



All Silvertip's muscles relaxed as if a strong tension had been removed。 

Slowly his legs straightened; his arms dropped; and from his side gushed a

dark flood。 A shadow crept over his face; not dark nor white; but just a

shadow。 His eyes lost their hate; they no longer saw the foe; they looked

beyond with gloomy question; and then were fixed cold in death。 Silvertip died

as he had liveda chief。



Joe glared round for Girty。 He was gone; having slipped away during the fight。

The lad turned to release the poor prisoner; when he started back with a cry

of fear。 Kate lay bathed in a pool of blooddead。 The renegade; fearing she

might be rescued; had murdered her; and then fled from the cabin。



Almost blinded by horror; and staggering with weakness; Joe turned to leave

the cabin。 Realizing that he was seriously; perhaps dangerously; wounded he

wisely thought he must not leave the place without weapons。 He had marked the

pegs where the renegade's rifle hung; and had been careful to keep between

that and his enemies。 He took down the gun and horns; which were attached to

it; and; with one last shuddering glance at poor Kate; left the place。



He was conscious of a queer lightness in his head; but he suffered no pain。 

His garments were dripping with blood。 He did not know how much of it was his;

or the Indian's。 Instinct rather than sight was his guide。 He grew weaker and

weaker; his head began to whirl; yet he kept on; knowing that life and freedom

were his if he found Whispering Winds。 He gained the top of the ridge; his

eyes were blurred; his strength gone。 He called aloud; and then plunged

forward on his face。 He heard dimly; as though the sound were afar off; the

whine of a dog。 He felt something soft and wet on his face。 Then consciousness

left him。



When he regained his senses he was lying on a bed of ferns under a projecting

rock。 He heard the gurgle of running water mingling with the song of birds。

Near him lay Mose; and beyond rose a wall of green thicket。 Neither Whispering

Winds nor his horse was visible。



He felt a dreamy lassitude。 He was tired; but had no pain。 Finding he could

move without difficulty; he concluded his weakness was more from loss of blood

than a dangerous wound。 He put his hand on the place where he had been

stabbed; and felt a soft; warm compress such as might have been made by a

bunch of wet leaves。 Some one had unlaced his hunting…shirtfor he saw the

strings were not as he usually tied themand had dressed the wound。 Joe

decided; after some deliberation; that Whispering Winds had found him; made

him as comfortable as possible; and; leaving Mose on guard; had gone out to

hunt for food; or perhaps back to the Indian encampment。 The rifle and horns

he had taken from Girty's hut; together with Silvertip's knife; lay beside

him。



As Joe lay there hoping for Whispering Winds' return; his reflections were not

pleasant。 Fortunate; indeed; he was to be alive; but he had no hope he could

continue to be favored by fortune。 Odds were now against his escape。 Girty

would have the Delawares on his trail like a pack of hungry wolves。 He could

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