Chapter XXIII.
"I have been here before," said Joe to Whispering Winds. "I rememberthat vine-covered stone. We crawled over it to get at Girty andSilvertip. There's the little knoll; here's the very spot where Iwas hit by a flying tomahawk. Yes, and there's the spring. Let mesee, what did Wetzel call this spot?"
"Beautiful Spring," answered the Indian girl.
"That's it, and it's well named. What a lovely place!"
Nature had been lavish in the beautifying of this inclosed dell. Itwas about fifty yards wide, and nestled among little, wooded knollsand walls of gray, lichen-covered stone. Though the sun shonebrightly into the opening, and the rain had free access to the mossyground, no stormy winds ever entered this well protected glade.
Joe reveled in the beauty of the scene, even while he was too weakto stand erect. He suffered no pain from his wound, although he hadgradually grown dizzy, and felt as if the ground was rising beforehim. He was glad to lie upon the mossy ground in the little cavernunder the cliff.
Upon examination his wound was found to have opened, and wasbleeding. His hunting coat was saturated with blood. WhisperingWinds washed the cut, and dressed it with cooling leaves. Then sherebandaged it tightly with Joe's linsey handkerchiefs, and while herested comfortable she gathered bundles of ferns, carrying them tothe little cavern. When she had a large quantity of these she satdown near Joe, and began to weave the long stems into a kind ofscreen. The fern stalks were four feet long and half a foot wide;these she deftly laced together, making broad screens which wouldserve to ward off the night dews. This done, she next built afireplace with flat stones. She found wild apples, plums and turnipson the knoll above the glade. Then she cooked strips of meat whichhad been brought with them. Lance grazed on the long grass justwithout the glade, and Mose caught two rabbits. When darknesssettled down Whispering Winds called the dog within the cavern, andhung the screens before the opening.
Several days passed. Joe rested quietly, and began to recoverstrength. Besides the work of preparing their meals, WhisperingWinds had nothing to do save sit near the invalid and amuse orinterest him so that he would not fret or grow impatient, while hiswound was healing.
They talked about their future prospects. After visiting the Villageof Peace, they would go to Fort Henry, where Joe could findemployment. They dwelt upon the cabin they would build, and passedmany happy moments planning a new home. Joe's love of the wildernesshad in no wise diminished; but a blow on his head from a heavytomahawk, and a vicious stab in the back, had lessened his zeal sofar that he understood it was not wise to sacrifice life for thepleasures of the pathless woods. He could have the last without thedanger of being shot at from behind every tree. He reasoned that itwould be best for him to take his wife to Fort Henry, there findemployment, and devote his leisure time to roaming in the forest.
"Will the palefaces be kind to an Indian who has learned to lovethem?" Whispering Winds asked wistfully of Joe.
"Indeed they will," answered Joe, and he told her the story of IsaacZane; how he took his Indian bride home; how her beauty andsweetness soon won all the white people's love. "It will be so withyou, my wife."
"Whispering Winds knows so little," she murmured.
"Why, you are learning every day, and even if such was not the case,you know enough for me."
"Whispering Winds will be afraid; she fears a little to go."
"I'll be glad when we can be on the move," said Joe, with his oldimpatient desire for action. "How soon, Winds, can we set off?"
"As many days," answered the Indian girl, holding up five fingers.
"So long? I want to leave this place."
"Leave Beautiful Spring?"
"Yes, even this sweet place. It has a horror for me. I'll neverforget the night I first saw that spring shining in the moonlight.It was right above the rock that I looked into the glade. The moonwas reflected in the dark pool, and as I gazed into the shadowydepths of the dark water I suddenly felt an unaccountable terror;but I oughtn't to have the same feeling now. We are safe, are wenot?"
"We are safe," murmured Whispering Winds.
"Yet I have the same chill of fear whenever I look at the beautifulspring, and at night as I awake to hear the soft babble of runningwater, I freeze until my heart feels like cold lead. Winds, I'm nota coward; but I can't help this feeling. Perhaps, it's only thememory of that awful night with Wetzel."
"An Indian feels so when he passes to his unmarked grave," answeredWinds, gazing solemnly at him. "Whispering Winds does not like thisfancy of yours. Let us leave Beautiful Spring. You are almost well.Ah! if Whispering Winds should lose you! I love you!"
"And I love you, my beautiful wild flower," answered Joe, strokingthe dark head so near his own.
A tender smile shone on his face. He heard a slight noise withoutthe cave, and, looking up, saw that which caused the smile to fadequickly.
"Mose!" he called, sharply. The dog was away chasing rabbits.
Whispering Winds glanced over her shoulder with a startled cry,which ended in a scream.
Not two yards behind her stood Jim Girty.
Hideous was his face in its triumphant ferocity. He held a longknife in his hand, and, snarling like a mad wolf, he made a forwardlunge.
Joe raised himself quickly; but almost before he could lift his handin defense, the long blade was sheathed in his breast.
Slowly he sank back, his gray eyes contracting with the old steelyflash. The will to do was there, but the power was gone forever.
"Remember, Girty, murderer! I am Wetzel's friend," he cried, gazingat his slayer with unutterable scorn.
Then the gray eyes softened, and sought the blanched face of thestricken maiden.
"Winds," he whispered faintly.
She was as one frozen with horror.
The gray eyes gazed into hers with lingering tenderness; then thefilm of death came upon them.
The renegade raised his bloody knife, and bent over the prostrateform.
Whispering Winds threw herself upon Girty with the blind fury of amaddened lioness. Cursing fiercely, he stabbed her once, twice,three times. She fell across the body of her lover, and clasped itconvulsively.
Girty gave one glance at his victims; deliberately wiped the goryknife on Wind's leggins, and, with another glance, hurried andfearful, around the glade, he plunged into the thicket.
An hour passed. A dark stream crept from the quiet figures towardthe spring. It dyed the moss and the green violet leaves. Slowly itwound its way to the clear water, dripping between the pale blueflowers. The little fall below the spring was no longer snowy white;blood had tinged it red.
A dog came bounding into the glade. He leaped the brook, hesitatedon the bank, and lowered his nose to sniff at the water. He boundedup the bank to the cavern.
A long, mournful howl broke the wilderness's quiet.
Another hour passed. The birds were silent; the insects still. Thesun sank behind the trees, and the shades of evening gathered.
The ferns on the other side of the glade trembled. A slight rustleof dead leaves disturbed the stillness. The dog whined, then barked.The tall form of a hunter rose out of the thicket, and stepped intothe glade with his eyes bent upon moccasin tracks in the soft moss.
The trail he had been following led him to this bloody spring.
"I might hev knowed it," he muttered.
Wetzel, for it was he, leaned upon his long rifle while his keeneyes took in the details of the tragedy. The whining dog, the bloodywater, the motionless figures lying in a last embrace, told the sadstory.
"Joe an' Winds," he muttered.
Only a moment did he remain lost in sad reflection. A familiarmoccasin-print in the sand on the bank pointed westward. He examinedit carefully.
"Two hours gone," he muttered. "I might overtake him."
Then his motions became swift. With two blows of his tomahawk hesecured a long piece of grapevine. He took a heavy stone from thebed of the brook. He carried Joe to the spring, and, return
ing forWinds, placed her beside her lover. This done, he tied one end ofthe grapevine around the stone, and wound the other about the deadbodies.
He pushed them off the bank into the spring. As the lovers sank intothe deep pool they turned, exposing first Winds' sad face, and thenJoe's. Then they sank out of sight. Little waves splashed on theshore of the pool; the ripple disappeared, and the surface of thespring became tranquil.
Wetzel stood one moment over the watery grave of the maiden who hadsaved him, and the boy who had loved him. In the gathering gloom hisstalwart form assumed gigantic proportions, and when he raised hislong arm and shook his clenched fist toward the west, he resembled amagnificent statue of dark menace.
With a single bound he cleared the pool, and then sped out of theglade. He urged the dog on Girty's trail, and followed the eagerbeast toward the west. As he disappeared, a long, low sound like thesigh of the night wind swelled and moaned through the gloom.