and you are saved from murder, thank God! When I learned of your departure I yearned to follow. Then I met a preacher who spoke of having intended to go West with a Mr. Wells, of the Moravian Mission. I immediately said I would go in his place, and here I am. I’m fortunate in that I have found both him and you.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t kill Jewett; I certainly meant to. Anyway, there’s some comfort in knowing I left my mark on him. He was a sneaking, cold-blooded fellow, with his white hair and pale face, and always fawning round the girls. I hated him, and gave it to him good.” Joe spoke musingly and complacently as though it was a trivial thing to compass the killing of a man.
“Well, Jim, you’re here now, and there’s no help for it. We’ll go along with this Moravian preacher and his nieces. If you haven’t any great regrets for the past, why, all may be well yet. I can see that the border is the place for me. But now, Jim, for once in your life take a word of advice from me. We’re out in the frontier, where every man looks after himself. Your being a minister won’t protect you here where every man wears a knife and a tomahawk, and where most of them are desperadoes. Cut out that soft voice and most of your gentle ways, and be a little more like your brother. Be as kind as you like, and preach all you want to; but when some of these buckskin-legged frontiersmen try to walk all over you, as they will, take your own part in a way you have never taken it before. I had my lesson the first few days out with that wagon-train. It was a case of four fights; but I’m all right now.”
“Joe, I won’t run, if that’s what you mean,” answered Jim, with a laugh. “Yes, I understand that a new life begins here, and I am content. If I can find my work in it, and remain with you, I shall be happy.”
“Ah! old Mose! I’m glad to see you,” Joe cried to the big dog who came nosing round him. “You’ve brought this old fellow; did you bring the horses?”
“Look behind the wagon.”
With the dog bounding before him, Joe did as he was directed, and there found two horses tethered side by side. Little wonder that his eyes gleamed with delight. One was jet-black; the other iron-gray; and in every line the clean-limbed animals showed the thoroughbred. The black threw up his slim head and whinnied, with affection clearly shining in his soft, dark eyes as he recognized his master.
“Lance, old fellow, how did I ever leave you?” murmured Joe, as he threw his arm over the arched neck. Mose stood by, looking up and wagging his tail in token of happiness at the reunion of the three old friends. There were tears in Joe’s eyes when, with a last affectionate caress, he turned away from his pet.
“Come, Jim, I’ll take you to Mr. Wells.”
They started across the little square, while Mose went back under the wagon; but at a word from Joe he bounded after them, trotting contentedly at their heels. Halfway to the cabins a big, rawboned teamster, singing in a drunken voice, came staggering toward them. Evidently he had just left the group of people who had gathered near the Indians.
“I didn’t expect to see drunkenness out here,” said Jim, in a low tone.
“There’s lots of it. I saw that fellow yesterday when he couldn’t walk. Wentz told me he was a bad customer.”
The teamster, his red face bathed in perspiration, and his sleeves rolled up, showing brown, knotty arms, lurched toward them. As they met he aimed a kick at the dog; but Mose leaped nimbly aside, avoiding the heavy boot. He did not growl nor show his teeth, but the great white head sank forward a little, and the lithe body crouched for a spring.
“Don’t touch that dog; he’ll tear your leg off!” Joe cried sharply.
“Say, pard, cum an’ hev a drink,” replied the teamster, with a friendly leer.
“I don’t drink,” answered Joe, curtly, and moved on.
The teamster growled something of which only the word “parson” was intelligible to the brothers. Joe stopped and looked back. His gray eyes seemed to contract; they did not flash, but shaded and lost their warmth. Jim saw the change, and knowing what it signified, took Joe’s arm as he gently urged him away. The teamster’s shrill voice could be heard until they entered the fur trader’s cabin.
An old man with long, white hair flowing from beneath his wide-brimmed hat sat near the door holding one of Mrs. Wentz’s children on his knee. His face was deep-lined and serious, but kindness shone from his mild blue eyes.
“Mr. Wells, this is my brother James. He is a preacher, and has come in place of the man you expected from Williamsburg.”
The old minister arose and extended his hand, gazing earnestly at the newcomer meanwhile. Evidently he approved of what he saw in his quick scrutiny of the other’s face, for his lips were wreathed with a smile of welcome.
“Mr. Downs, I am glad to meet you, and to know you will go with me. I thank God I shall take into the wilderness one who is young enough to carry on the work when my days are done.”
“I will make it my duty to help you in whatsoever way lies in my power,” answered Jim, earnestly.
“We have a great work before us. I have heard many scoffers who claim that it is worse than folly to try to teach these fierce savages Christianity; but I know it can be done, and my heart is in the work. I have no fear; yet I would not conceal from you, young man, that the danger of going among these hostile Indians must be great.”
“I will not hesitate because of that. My sympathy is with the redman. I have had an opportunity of studying Indian nature and believe the race inherently noble. He has been driven to make war, and I want to help him into other paths.”
Joe left the two ministers talking earnestly and turned toward Mrs. Wentz. The fur trader’s wife was glowing with pleasure. She held in her hand several rude trinkets and was explaining to her listener, a young woman, that the toys were for the children, having been brought all the way from Williamsburg.
“Kate, where’s Nell?” Joe asked of the girl.
“She went on an errand for Mrs. Wentz.”
Kate Wells was the opposite of her sister. Her motions were slow, easy and consistent with her large, full form. Her brown eyes and hair contrasted sharply with Nell’s. The greatest difference in the sisters lay in that Nell’s face was sparkling and full of the fire of her eager young life, while Kate’s was calm, like the unruffled surface of a deep lake.
“That’s Jim, my brother. We’re going with you,” said Joe.
“Are you? I’m glad,” answered the girl, looking at the handsome, earnest face of the young minister.
“Your brother’s like you for all the world,” whispered Mrs. Wentz.
“He does look like you,” said Kate, with her slow smile.
“Which means you think, or hope, that that is all,” retorted Joe, laughingly. “Well, Kate, there the resemblance ends, thank God for Jim!”
He spoke in a sad, bitter tone which caused both women to look at him wonderingly. Joe had to them ever been full of surprises; never until then had they seen evidences of sadness in his face. A moment’s silence ensued. Mrs. Wentz gazed lovingly at the children who were playing with the trinkets, while Kate mused over the young man’s remark and began studying his half-averted face. She felt warmly drawn to him by the strange expression in the glance he had given his brother.
