betty zane-第21部分

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；　with　the　result　that　he　concluded　he　had　gone　much　farther　from　the　fort　than　he　had　intended。　He　turned　to　retrace　his　steps　when　a　faint　sound　from　down　the　ravine　came　to　his　sharp　ears。

There　was　no　instinct　to　warn　him　that　a　hideously　painted　face　was　raised　a　moment　over　the　clump　of　laurel　bushes　to　his　left；　and　that　a　pair　of　keen　eyes　watched　every　move　he　made。

Unconscious　of　impending　evil　Isaac　stopped　and　looked　around　him。　Suddenly　above　the　musical　babble　of　the　brook　and　the　rustle　of　the　leaves　by　the　breeze　came　a　repetition　of　the　sound。　He　crouched　close　by　the　trunk　of　a　tree　and　strained　his　ears。　All　was　quiet　for　some　moments。　Then　he　heard　the　patter；　patter　of　little　hoofs　coming　down　the　stream。　Nearer　and　nearer　they　came。　Sometimes　they　were　almost　inaudible　and　again　he　heard　them　clearly　and　distinctly。　Then　there　came　a　splashing　and　the　faint　hollow　sound　caused　by　hard　hoofs　striking　the　stones　in　shallow　water。　Finally　the　sounds　ceased。

Cautiously　peering　from　behind　the　tree　Isaac　saw　a　doe　standing　on　the　bank　fifty　yards　down　the　brook。　Trembling　she　had　stopped　as　if　in　doubt　or　uncertainty。　Her　ears　pointed　straight　upward；　and　she　lifted　one　front　foot　from　the　ground　like　a　thoroughbred　pointer。　Isaac　knew　a　doe　always　led　the　way　through　the　woods　and　if　there　were　other　deer　they　would　come　up　unless　warned　by　the　doe。　Presently　the　willows　parted　and　a　magnificent　buck　with　wide　spreading　antlers　stepped　out　and　stood　motionless　on　the　bank。　Although　they　were　down　the　wind　Isaac　knew　the　deer　suspected　some　hidden　danger。　They　looked　steadily　at　the　clump　of　laurels　at　Isaac's　left；　a　circumstance　he　remarked　at　the　time；　but　did　not　understand　the　real　significance　of　until　long　afterward。

Following　the　ringing　report　of　Isaac's　rifle　the　buck　sprang　almost　across　the　stream；　leaped　convulsively　up　the　bank；　reached　the　top；　and　then　his　strength　failing；　slid　down　into　the　stream；　where；　in　his　dying　struggles；　his　hoofs　beat　the　water　into　white　foam。　The　doe　had　disappeared　like　a　brown　flash。

Isaac；　congratulating　himself　on　such　a　fortunate　shotfor　rarely　indeed　does　a　deer　fail　dead　in　his　tracks　even　when　shot　through　the　heart　rose　from　his　crouching　position　and　commenced　to　reload　his　rifle。　With　great　care　he　poured　the　powder　into　the　palm　of　his　hand；　measuring　the　quantity　with　his　eyefor　it　was　an　evidence　of　a　hunter's　skill　to　be　able　to　get　the　proper　quantity　for　the　ball。　Then　he　put　the　charge　into　the　barrel。　Placing　a　little　greased　linsey　rag；　about　half　an　inch　square；　over　the　muzzle；　he　laid　a　small　lead　bullet　on　it；　and　with　the　ramrod　began　to　push　the　ball　into　the　barrel。

A　slight　rustle　behind　him；　which　sounded　to　him　like　the　gliding　of　a　rattlesnake　over　the　leaves；　caused　him　to　start　and　turn　round。　But　he　was　too　late。　A　crushing　blow　on　the　head　from　a　club　in　the　hand　of　a　brawny　Indian　laid　him　senseless　on　the　ground。

When　Isaac　regained　his　senses　he　felt　a　throbbing　pain　in　his　head；　and　then　he　opened　his　eyes　he　was　so　dizzy　that　he　was　unable　to　discern　objects　clearly。　After　a　few　moments　his　sight　returned。　When　he　had　struggled　to　a　sitting　posture　he　discovered　that　his　hands　were　bound　with　buckskin　thongs。　By　his　side　he　saw　two　long　poles　of　basswood；　with　some　strips　of　green　bark　and　pieces　of　grapevine　laced　across　and　tied　fast　to　the　poles。　Evidently　this　had　served　as　a　litter　on　which　he　had　been　carried。　From　his　wet　clothes　and　the　position　of　the　sun；　now　low　in　the　west；　he　concluded　he　had　been　brought　across　the　river　and　was　now　miles　from　the　fort。　In　front　of　him　he　saw　three　Indians　sitting　before　a　fire。　One　of　them　was　cutting　thin　slices　from　a　haunch　of　deer　meat；　another　was　drinking　from　a　gourd；　and　the　third　was　roasting　a　piece　of　venison　which　he　held　on　a　sharpened　stick。　Isaac　knew　at　once　the　Indians　were　Wyandots；　and　he　saw　they　were　in　full　war　paint。　They　were　not　young　braves；　but　middle　aged　warriors。　One　of　them　Isaac　recognized　as　Crow；　a　chief　of　one　of　the　Wyandot　tribes；　and　a　warrior　renowned　for　his　daring　and　for　his　ability　to　make　his　way　in　a　straight　line　through　the　wilderness。　Crow　was　a　short；　heavy　Indian　and　his　frame　denoted　great　strength　He　had　a　broad　forehead；　high　cheek　bones；　prominent　nose　and　his　face　would　have　been　handsome　and　intelligent　but　for　the　scar　which　ran　across　his　cheek；　giving　him　a　sinister　look。

〃Hugh！〃　said　Crow；　as　he　looked　up　and　saw　Isaac　staring　at　him。　The　other　Indians　immediately　gave　vent　to　a　like　exclamation。

〃Crow；　you　caught　me　again；〃　said　Isaac；　in　the　Wyandot　tongue；　which　he　spoke　fluently。

〃The　white　chief　is　sure　of　eye　and　swift　of　foot；　but　he　cannot　escape　the　Huron。　Crow　has　been　five　times　on　his　trail　since　the　moon　was　bright。　The　white　chief's　eyes　were　shut　and　his　ears　were　deaf；〃　answered　the　Indian　loftily。

〃How　long　have　you　been　near　the　fort？〃

〃Two　moons　have　the　warriors　of　Myeerah　hunted　the　pale　face。〃

〃Have　you　any　more　Indians　with　you？〃

The　chief　nodded　and　said　a　party　of　nine　Wyandots　had　been　in　the　vicinity　of　Wheeling　for　a　month。　He　named　some　of　the　warriors。

Isaac　was　surprised　to　learn　of　the　renowned　chiefs　who　had　been　sent　to　recapture　him。　Not　to　mention　Crow；　the　Delaware　chiefs　Son…of…Wingenund　and　Wapatomeka　were　among　the　most　cunning　and　sagacious　Indians　of　the　west。　Isaac　reflected　that　his　year's　absence　from　Myeerah　had　not　caused　her　to　forget　him。

Crow　untied　Isaac's　hands　and　gave　him　water　and　venison。　Then　he　picked　up　his　rifle　and　with　a　word　to　the　Indians　he　stepped　into　the　underbrush　that　skirted　the　little　dale；　and　was　lost　to　view。

Isaac's　head　ached　and　throbbed　so　that　after　he　had　satisfied　his　thirst　and　hunger　he　was　glad　to　close　his　eyes　and　lean　back　against　the　tree。　Engrossed　in　thoughts　of　the　home　he　might　never　see　again；　he　had　lain　there　an　hour　without　moving；　when　he　was　aroused　from　his　meditations　by　low　guttural　exclamations　from　the　Indians。　Opening　his　eyes　he　saw　Crow　and　another　Indian　enter　the　glade；　leading　and　half　supporting　a　third　savage。

They　helped　this　Indian　to　the　log；　where　he　sat　down　slowly　and　wearily；　holding　one　hand　over　his　breast。　He　was　a　magnificent　specimen　of　Indian　manhood；　almost　a　giant　in　stature；　with　broad　shoulders　in　proportion　to　his　height。　His　head…dress　and　the　gold　rings　which　encircled　his　bare　muscular　arms　indicated　that　he　was　a　chief　high　in　power。　The　seven　eagle　plumes　in　his　scalp…lock　represented　seven　warriors　that　he　had　killed　in　battle。　Little　sticks　of　wood　plaited　in　his　coal　black　hair　and　painted　different　colors　showed　to　an　Indian　eye　how　many　times　this　chief　had　been　wounded　by　bullet；　knife；　or　tomahawk。

His　face　was　calm。　If　he　suffered　he　allowed　no　sign　of　it　to　escape　him。　He　gazed　thoughtfully　into　the　fire；　slowly　the　while　untying　the　belt　which　contained　his　knife　and　tomahawk。　The　weapons　were　raised　and　held　before　him；　one　in　each　hand；　and　then　waved　on　high。　The　action　was　repeated　three　times。　Then　slowly　and　reluctantly　the　Indian　lowered　them　as　if　he　knew　their　work　on　earth　was　done。

It　was　growing　dark　and　the　bright　blaze　from　the　camp　fire　lighted　up　the　glade；　thus　enabling　Isaac　to　see　the　drooping　figure　on　the　log；　and　in　the　background　Crow；　holding　a　whispered　consultation　with　the　other　Indians。　Isaac　heard　enough　of　the　colloquy　to　guess　the　facts。　The　chief　had　been　desperately　rounded；　the　palefaces　were　on　their　trail；　and　a　march　must　be　commenced　at　once。

Isaac　knew　the　wounded　chief。　He　was　the　Delaware　Son…of…Wingenund。　He　married　a　Wyandot　squaw；　had　spent　much　of　his　time　in　the　Wyandot　village　and　on　warring　expeditions　which　the　two　friendly　nations　made　on　other　tribes。　Isaac　had　hunted　with　him；　slept　under　the　same　blanket　with　him；　and　had　grown　to　like　him。

As　Isaac　moved　slightly　in　his　position　the　chief　saw　him。　He　straightened　up；　threw　back　the　hunting　shirt　and　pointed　to　a　small　hole　in　his　broad　breast。　A　slender　stream　of　blood　issued　from　the　wound　and　flowed　down　his　chest

〃Wind…of…Death　is　a　great　white　chief。　His　gun　is　always　loaded；〃　he　said　calmly；　and　a　look　of　pride　gleamed　across　his　dark　face；　as　though　he　gloried　in　the　wound　made　by　such　a　warrior。

〃Deathwind〃　was　one　of　the　many　names　given　to　Wetzel　by　the　savages；　and　a　thrill　of　hope　shot　through　Isaac's　heart　when　he　saw　the　Indians　feared　Wetzel　was　on　their　track。　This　hope　was　short　lived；　however；　for　when　he　considered　the　probabilities　of　the　thing　he　knew　that　pursuit　would　only　result　in　his　death　before　the　settlers　could　come　up　with　the　Indians；　and　he　concluded　that　Wetzel；　familiar　with　every　trick　of　the　redmen；　would　be　the　first　to　think　of　the　hopelessness　of　rescuing　him　and　so　would　not　attempt　it。

The　four　Indians　now　returned　to　the　fire　and　stood　beside　the　chief。　It　was　evident　to　them　that　his　end　was　imminent。　He　sang　in　a　low；　not　unmusical　tone　the　death…chant　of　the　Hurons。　His　companions　silently　bowed　their　heads。　When　he　had　finished　singing　he　slowly　rose　to　his　great　height；　showing　a　commanding　figure。　Slowly　his　features　lost　their　stern　pride；　his　face　softened；　and　h