winning.”
“You do not say whether that will hurt you,” whispered Jim.
“Come—we’ll find Colonel Zane,” said Joe, opening the door.
They went out in the hallway which opened into the yard as well as the larger room through which the colonel had first conducted them. As Jim, who was in advance, passed into this apartment a trim figure entered from the yard. It was Nell, and she ran directly against him. Her face was flushed, her eyes were beaming with gladness, and she seemed the incarnation of girlish joy.
“Oh, Joe,” was all she whispered. But the happiness and welcome in that whisper could never have been better expressed in longer speech. Then slightly, ever so slightly, she tilted her sweet face up to his.
It all happened with the quickness of thought. In a single instant Jim saw the radiant face, the outstretched hands, and heard the glad whisper. He knew that she had a again mistaken him for Joe; but for his life he could not draw back his head. He had kissed her, and even as his lips thrilled with her tremulous caress he flushed with the shame of his deceit.
“You’re mistaken again—I’m Jim,” he whispered.
For a moment they stood staring into each other’s eyes, slowly awakening to what had really happened, slowly conscious of a sweet, alluring power. Then Colonel Zane’s cheery voice rang in their ears.
“Ah, here’s Nellie and your brother! Now, lads, tell me which is which?”
“That’s Jim, and I’m Joe,” answered the latter. He appeared not to notice his brother, and his greeting to Nell was natural and hearty. For the moment she drew the attention of the others from them.
Joe found himself listening to the congratulations of a number of people. Among the many names he remembered were those of Mrs. Zane, Silas Zane, and Major McColloch. Then he found himself gazing at the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his life.
“My only sister, Mrs. Alfred Clarke—once Betty Zane, and the heroine of Fort Henry,” said Colonel Zane proudly, with his arm around the slender, dark-eyed girl.
“I would brave the Indians and the wilderness again for this pleasure,” replied Joe gallantly, as he bowed low over the little hand she cordially extended.
“Bess, is dinner ready?” inquired Colonel Zane of his comely wife. She nodded her head, and the colonel led the way into the adjoining room. “I know you boys must be hungry as bears.”
During the meal Colonel Zane questioned his guests about their journey, and as to the treatment they had received at the hands of the Indians. He smiled at the young minister’s earnestness in regard to the conversion of the redmen, and he laughed outright when Joe said “he guessed he came to the frontier because it was too slow at home.”
“I am sure your desire for excitement will soon be satisfied, if indeed it be not so already,” remarked the colonel. “But as to the realization of your brother’s hopes I am not so sanguine. Undoubtedly the Moravian missionaries have accomplished wonders with the Indians. Not long ago I visited the Village of Peace—the Indian name for the mission—and was struck by the friendliness and industry which prevailed there. Truly it was a village of peace. Yet it is almost to early to be certain of permanent success of this work. The Indian’s nature is one hard to understand. He is naturally roving and restless, which, however, may be owing to his habit of moving from place to place in search of good hunting grounds. I believe—though I must confess I haven’t seen any pioneers who share my belief—that the savage has a beautiful side to his character. I know of many noble deeds done by them, and I believe, if they are honestly dealt with, they will return good for good. There are bad ones, of course; but the French traders, and men like the Girtys, have caused most of this long war. Jonathan and Wetzel tell me the Shawnees and Chippewas have taken the warpath again. Then the fact that the Girtys are with the Delawares is reason for alarm. We have been comparatively quiet here of late. Did you boys learn to what tribe your captors belong? Did Wetzel say?”
“He did not; he spoke little, but I will say he was exceedingly active,” answered Joe, with a smile.
“To have seen Wetzel fight Indians is something you are not likely to forget,” said Colonel Zane grimly. “Now, tell me, how did those Indians wear their scalp-lock?”
“Their heads were shaved closely, with the exception of a little place on top. The remaining hair was twisted into a tuft, tied tightly, and into this had been thrust a couple of painted pins. When Wetzel scalped the Indians the pins fell out. I picked one up, and found it to be bone.”
“You will make a woodsman, that’s certain,” replied Colonel Zane. “The Indians were Shawnee on the warpath. Well, we will not borrow trouble, for when it comes in the shape of redskins it usually comes quickly. Mr. Wells seemed anxious to resume the journey down the river; but I shall try to persuade him to remain with us awhile. Indeed, I am sorry I cannot keep you all here at Fort Henry, and more especially the girls. On the border we need young people, and, while I do not want to frighten the women, I fear there will be more than Indians fighting for them.”
“I hope not; but we have come prepared for anything,” said Kate, with a quiet smile. “Our home was with uncle, and when he announced his intention of going west we decided our duty was to go with him.”
“You were right, and I hope you will find a happy home,” rejoined Colonel Zane. “If life among the Indians, proves to be too hard, we shall welcome you here. Betty, show the girls your pets and Indian trinkets. I am going to take the boys to Silas’ cabin to see Mr. Wells, and then show them over the fort.”
As they went out Joe saw the Indian guide standing in exactly the same position as when they entered the building.
“Can’t that Indian move?” he asked curiously.
“He can cover one hundred miles in a day, when he wants to,” replied Colonel Zane. “He is resting now. An Indian will often stand or sit in one position for many hours.”
“He’s a fine-looking chap,” remarked Joe, and then to himself: “but I don’t like him. I guess I’m prejudiced.”
“You’ll learn to like Tome, as we call him.”
“Colonel Zane, I want a light for my pipe. I haven’t had a smoke since the day we were captured. That blamed redskin took my tobacco. It’s lucky I had some in my other pack. I’d like to meet him again; also Silvertip and that brute Girty.”
“My lad, don’t make such wishes,” said Colonel Zane, earnestly. “You were indeed fortunate to escape, and I can well understand your feelings. There is nothing I should like better than to see Girty over the sights of my rifle; but I never hunt after danger, and to look for Girty is to court death.”
“But Wetzel—”
“Ah, my lad, I know Wetzel goes alone in the woods; but then, he is different from other men. Before you leave I will tell you all about him.”
Colonel Zane went around the corner of the cabin and returned with a live coal on a chip of wood, which Joe placed in the bowl of his pipe, and because of the strong breeze stepped close to the cabin wall. Being a keen observer, he noticed many small, round holes in the logs. They were so near together that the timbers had an odd, speckled appearance, and there was hardly a place where he could have put his thumb without covering a hole. At first he thought they were made by a worm or bird peculiar to that region;
