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would have the Delawares on his trail like a pack of hungry wolves。 He could
not understand the absence of Whispering Winds。 She would have died sooner
than desert him。 Girty had； perhaps； captured her； and was now scouring the
woods for him。
〃I'll get him next time； or he'll get me；〃 muttered Joe； in bitter wrath。 He
could never forgive himself for his failure to kill the renegade。
The recollection of how nearly he had forever ended Girty's brutal career
brought before Joe's mind the scene of the fight。 He saw again Buzzard Jim's
face； revolting； unlike anything human。 There stretched Silvertip's dark
figure； lying still and stark； and there was Kate's white form in its winding；
crimson wreath of blood。 Hauntingly her face returned； sad； stern in its cold
rigidity；。
〃Poor girl； better for her to be dead；〃 he murmured。 〃Not long will she be
unavenged！〃
His thoughts drifted to the future。 He had no fear of starvation； for Mose
could catch a rabbit or woodchuck at any time。 When the strips of meat he had
hidden in his coat were gone； he could start a fire and roast more。 What
concerned him most was pursuit。 His trail from the cabin had been a bloody
one； which would render it easily followed。 He dared not risk exertion until
he had given his wound time to heal。 Then； if he did escape from Girty and the
Delawares； his future was not bright。 His experiences of the last few days had
not only sobered； but brought home to him this real border life。 With all his
fire and daring he new he was no fool。 He had eagerly embraced a career which；
at the present stage of his training； was beyond his scopenot that he did
not know how to act in sudden crises； but because he had not had the necessary
practice to quickly and surely use his knowledge。
Bitter； indeed； was his self…scorn when he recalled that of the several
critical positions he had been in since his acquaintance with Wetzel； he had
failed in all but one。 The exception was the killing of Silvertip。 Here his
fury had made him fight as Wetzel fought with only his every day incentive。 He
realized that the border was no place for any save the boldest and most
experienced huntersmen who had become inured to hardship； callous as to
death； keen as Indians。 Fear was not in Joe nor lack of confidence； but he had
good sense； and realized he would have done a wiser thing had he stayed at
Fort Henry。 Colonel Zane was right。 The Indians were tigers； the renegades
vultures； the vast untrammeled forests and plains their covert。 Ten years of
war had rendered this wilderness a place where those few white men who had
survived were hardened to the spilling of blood； stern even in those few quiet
hours which peril allowed them； strong in their sacrifice of all for future
generations。
A low growl from Mose broke into Joe's reflections。 The dog had raised his
nose from his paws and sniffed suspiciously at the air。 The lad heard a slight
rustling outside； and in another moment was overjoyed at seeing Whispering
Winds。 She came swiftly； with a lithe； graceful motion； and flying to him like
a rush of wind； knelt beside him。 She kissed him and murmured words of
endearment。
〃Winds； where have you been？〃 he asked her； in the mixed English and Indian
dialect in which they conversed。
She told him the dog had led her to him two evenings before。 He was
insensible。 She had bathed and bandaged his wound； and remained with him all
that night。 The next day； finding he was ill and delirious； she decided to
risk returning to the village。 If any questions arose； she could say he had
left her。 Then she would find a way to get back to him； bringing healing herbs
for his wound and a soothing drink。 As it turned out Girty had returned to the
camp。 He was battered and bruised； and in a white heat of passion。 Going at
once to Wingenund； the renegade openly accused Whispering Winds of aiding her
paleface lover to escape。 Wingenund called his daughter before him； and
questioned her。 She confessed all to her father。
〃Why is the daughter of Wingenund a traitor to her race？〃 demanded the chief。
〃Whispering Winds is a Christian。〃
Wingenund received this intelligence as a blow。 He dismissed Girty and sent
his braves from his lodge； facing his daughter alone。 Gloomy and stern； he
paced before her。
〃Wingenund's blood might change； but would never betray。 Wingenund is the
Delaware chief；〃 he said。 〃Go。 Darken no more the door of Wingenund's wigwam。
Let the flower of the Delawares fade in alien pastures。 Go。 Whispering Winds
is free！〃
Tears shone brightly in the Indian girl's eyes while she told Joe her story。
She loved her father； and she would see him no more。
〃Winds is free；〃 she whispered。 〃When strength returns to her master she can
follow him to the white villages。 Winds will live her life for him。〃
〃Then we have no one to fear？〃 asked Joe。
〃No redman； now that the Shawnee chief is dead。〃
〃Will Girty follow us？ He is a coward； he will fear to come alone。〃
〃The white savage is a snake in the grass。〃
Two long days followed； during which the lovers lay quietly in hiding。 On the
morning of the third day Joe felt that he might risk the start for the Village
of Peace。 Whispering Winds led the horse below a stone upon which the invalid
stood； thus enabling him to mount。 Then she got on behind him。
The sun was just gilding the horizon when they rode out of the woods into a
wide plain。 No living thing could be seen。 Along the edge of the forest the
ground was level； and the horse traveled easily。 Several times during the
morning Joe dismounted beside a pile of stones or a fallen tree。 The miles
were traversed without serious inconvenience to the invalid； except that he
grew tired。 Toward the middle of the afternoon； when they had ridden perhaps
twenty…five miles； they crossed a swift； narrow brook。 The water was a
beautiful clear brown。 Joe made note of this； as it was an unusual
circumstance。 Nearly all the streams； when not flooded； were green in color。
He remembered that during his wanderings with Wetzel they had found one stream
of this brown； copper…colored water。 The lad knew he must take a roundabout
way to the village so that he might avoid Indian runners or scouts； and he
hoped this stream would prove to be the one he had once camped upon。
As they were riding toward a gentle swell or knoll covered with trees and
shrubbery； Whispering Winds felt something warm on her hand； and； looking； was
horrified to find it covered with blood。 Joe's wound had opened。 She told him
they must dismount here； and remain until he was stronger。 The invalid himself
thought this conclusion was wise。 They would be practically safe now； since
they must be out of the Indian path； and many miles from the encampment。
Accordingly he got off the horse； and sat down on a log； while Whispering
Winds searched for a suitable place in which to erect a temporary shelter。
Joe's wandering gaze was arrested by a tree with a huge knotty formation near
the ground。 It was like many trees； but this peculiarity was not what struck
Joe。 He had seen it before。 He never forgot anything in the woods that once
attracted his attention。 He looked around on all sides。 Just behind him was
an opening in the clump of trees。 Within this was a perpendicular stone
covered with moss and lichens； above it a beech tree spread long； graceful
branches。 He thrilled with the remembrance these familiar marks brought。 This
was Beautiful Spring； the place where Wetzel rescued Nell； where he had killed
the Indians in that night attack he would never forget。
Chapter XIX。
One evening a week or more after the disappearance of Jim and the girls；
George Young and David Edwards； the missionaries； sat on the cabin steps；
gazing disconsolately upon the forest scenery。 Hard as had been the ten years
of their labor among the Indians； nothing had shaken them as the loss of their
young friends。
〃Dave； I tell you your theory about seeing them again is absurd；〃 asserted
George。 〃I'll never forget that wretch； Girty； as he spoke to Nell。 Why； she
just wilted like a flower blasted by fire。 I can't understand why he let me
go； and kept Jim； unless the Shawnee had something to do with it。 I never
wished until now that I was a hunter。 I'd go after Girty。 You've heard as
well as I of his many atrocities。 I'd rather have seen Kate and Nell dead than
have them fall into his power。 I'd rather have killed them myself！〃
Young had aged perceptibly in these last few days。 The blue veins showed at
his temples； his face had become thinner and paler； his eyes had a look of
pain。 The former expression of patience； which had sat so well on him； was
gone。
〃George； I can't account for my fancies or feelings； else； perhaps； I'd be
easier in mind；〃 answered Dave。 His face； too； showed the ravages of grief。
〃I've had queer thoughts lately； and d