Zane Grey (22 page)

For Joe the days were days of enchantment. His wild heart had found
its mate. A willing captive he was now. All his fancy for other
women, all his memories faded into love for his Indian bride.

Whispering Winds charmed the eye, mind, and heart. Every day her
beauty seemed renewed. She was as apt to learn as she was quick to
turn her black-crowned head, but her supreme beauty was her loving,
innocent soul. Untainted as the clearest spring, it mirrored the
purity and simplicity of her life. Indian she might be, one of a
race whose morals and manners were alien to the man she loved, yet
she would have added honor to the proudest name.

When Whispering Winds raised her dark eyes they showed radiant as a
lone star; when she spoke low her voice made music.

"Beloved," she whispered one day to him, "teach the Indian maiden
more love for you, and truth, and God. Whispering Winds yearns to go
to the Christians, but she fears her stern father. Wingenund would
burn the Village of Peace. The Indian tribes tremble before the
thunder of his wrath. Be patient, my chief. Time changes the leaves,
so it will the anger of the warriors. Whispering Winds will set you
free, and be free herself to go far with you toward the rising sun,
where dwell your people. She will love, and be constant, as the
northern star. Her love will be an eternal spring where blossoms
bloom ever anew, and fresh, and sweet. She will love your people,
and raise Christian children, and sit ever in the door of your home
praying for the west wind to blow. Or, if my chief wills, we shall
live the Indian life, free as two eagles on their lonely crag."

Although Joe gave himself up completely to his love for his bride,
he did not forget that Kate was in the power of the renegade, and
that he must rescue her. Knowing Girty had the unfortunate girls
somewhere near the Delaware encampment, he resolved to find the
place. Plans of all kinds he resolved in his mind. The best one he
believed lay through Whispering Winds. First to find the whereabouts
of Girty; kill him if possible, or at least free Kate, and then get
away with her and his Indian bride. Sanguine as he invariably was,
he could not but realize the peril of this undertaking. If
Whispering Winds betrayed her people, it meant death to her as well
as to him. He would far rather spend the remaining days of his life
in the Indian village, than doom the maiden whose love had saved
him. Yet he thought he might succeed in getting away with her, and
planned to that end. His natural spirit, daring, reckless, had
gained while he was associated with Wetzel.

Meanwhile he mingled freely with the Indians, and here, as
elsewhere, his winning personality, combined with his athletic
prowess, soon made him well liked. He was even on friendly terms
with Pipe. The swarthy war chief liked Joe because, despite the
animosity he had aroused in some former lovers of Whispering Winds,
he actually played jokes on them. In fact, Joe's pranks raised many
a storm; but the young braves who had been suitors for Wingenund's
lovely daughter, feared the muscular paleface, and the tribe's
ridicule more; so he continued his trickery unmolested. Joe's idea
was to lead the savages to believe he was thoroughly happy in his
new life, and so he was, but it suited him better to be free. He
succeeded in misleading the savages. At first he was closely
watched, the the vigilance relaxed, and finally ceased.

This last circumstance was owing, no doubt, to a ferment of
excitement that had suddenly possessed the Delawares. Council after
council was held in the big lodge. The encampment was visited by
runner after runner. Some important crisis was pending.

Joe could not learn what it all meant, and the fact that Whispering
Winds suddenly lost her gladsome spirit and became sad caused him
further anxiety. When he asked her the reason for her unhappiness,
she was silent. Moreover, he was surprised to learn, when he
questioned her upon the subject of their fleeing together, that she
was eager to go immediately. While all this mystery puzzled Joe, it
did not make any difference to him or in his plans. It rather
favored the latter. He understood that the presence of Simon Girty
and Elliott, with several other renegades unknown to him, was
significant of unrest among the Indians. These presagers of evil
were accustomed to go from village to village, exciting the savages
to acts of war. Peace meant the downfall and death of these men.
They were busy all day and far into the night. Often Joe heard
Girty's hoarse voice lifted in the council lodge. Pipe thundered
incessantly for war. But Joe could not learn against whom. Elliott's
suave, oily oratory exhorted the Indians to vengeance. But Joe could
not guess upon whom. He was, however, destined to learn.

The third day of the councils a horseman stopped before Whispering
Winds' lodge, and called out. Stepping to the door, Joe saw a white
man, whose dark, keen, handsome face seemed familiar. Yet Joe knew
he had never seen this stalwart man.

"A word with you," said the stranger. His tone was curt,
authoritative, as that of a man used to power.

"As many as you like. Who are you?"

"I am Isaac Zane. Are you Wetzel's companion, or the renegade
Deering?"

"I am not a renegade any more than you are. I was rescued by the
Indian girl, who took me as her husband," said Joe coldly. He was
surprised, and did not know what to make of Zane's manner.

"Good! I'm glad to meet you," instantly replied Zane, his tone and
expression changing. He extended his hand to Joe. "I wanted to be
sure. I never saw the renegade Deering. He is here now. I am on my
way to the Wyandot town. I have been to Fort Henry, where my brother
told me of you and the missionaries. When I arrived here I heard
your story from Simon Girty. If you can, you must get away from
here. If I dared I'd take you to the Huron village, but it's
impossible. Go, while you have a chance."

"Zane, I thank you. I've suspected something was wrong. What is it?"

"Couldn't be worse," whispered Zane, glancing round to see if they
were overheard. "Girty and Elliott, backed by this Deering, are
growing jealous of the influence of Christianity on the Indians.
They are plotting against the Village of Peace. Tarhe, the Huron
chief, has been approached, and asked to join in a concerted
movement against religion. Seemingly it is not so much the
missionaries as the converted Indians, that the renegades are fuming
over. They know if the Christian savages are killed, the strength of
the missionaries' hold will be forever broken. Pipe is wild for
blood. These renegades are slowly poisoning the minds of the few
chiefs who are favorably disposed. The outlook is bad! bad!"

"What can I do?"

"Cut out for yourself. Get away, if you can, with a gun. Take the
creek below, follow the current down to the Ohio, and then make east
for Fort Henry.

"But I want to rescue the white girl Jim Girty has concealed here
somewhere."

"Impossible! Don't attempt it unless you want to throw your life
away. Buzzard Jim, as we call Girty, is a butcher; he has probably
murdered the girl."

"I won't leave without trying. And there's my wife, the Indian girl
who saved me. Zane, she's a Christian. She wants to go with me. I
can't leave her."

"I am warning you, that's all. If I were you I'd never leave without
a try to find the white girl, and I'd never forsake my Indian bride.
I've been through the same thing. You must be a good woodsman, or
Wetzel wouldn't have let you stay with him. Pick out a favorable
time and make the attempt. I suggest you make your Indian girl show
you where Girty is. She knows, but is afraid to tell you, for she
fears Girty. Get your dog and horse from the Shawnee. That's a fine
horse. He can carry you both to safety. Take him away from
Silvertip."

"How?"

"Go right up and demand your horse and dog. Most of these Delawares
are honest, for all their blood-shedding and cruelty. With them
might is right. The Delawares won't try to get your horse for you;
but they'll stick to you when you assert your rights. They don't
like the Shawnee, anyhow. If Silvertip refuses to give you the
horse, grab him before he can draw a weapon, and beat him good.
You're big enough to do it. The Delawares will be tickled to see you
pound him. He's thick with Girty; that's why he lays round here.
Take my word, it's the best way. Do it openly, and no one will
interfere."

"By Heavens, Zane, I'll give him a drubbing. I owe him one, and am
itching to get hold of him."

"I must go now. I shall send a Wyandot runner to your brother at the
village. They shall be warned. Good-by. Good luck. May we meet
again."

Joe watched Zane ride swiftly down the land and disappear in the
shrubbery. Whispering Winds came to the door of the lodge. She
looked anxiously at him. He went within, drawing her along with him,
and quickly informed her that he had learned the cause of the
council, that he had resolved to get away, and she must find out
Girty's hiding place. Whispering Winds threw herself into his arms,
declaring with an energy and passion unusual to her, that she would
risk anything for him. She informed Joe that she knew the direction
from which Girty always returned to the village. No doubt she could
find his retreat. With a cunning that showed her Indian nature, she
suggested a plan which Joe at once saw was excellent. After Joe got
his horse, she would ride around the village, then off into the
woods, where she could leave the horse and return to say he had run
away from her. As was their custom during afternoons, they would
walk leisurely along the brook, and, trusting to the excitement
created by the councils, get away unobserved. Find the horse, if
possible rescue the prisoner, and then travel east with all speed.

Joe left the lodge at once to begin the working out of the plan.
Luck favored him at the outset, for he met Silvertip before the
council lodge. The Shawnee was leading Lance, and the dog followed
at his heels. The spirit of Mose had been broken. Poor dog, Joe
thought, he had been beaten until he was afraid to wag his tail at
his old master. Joe's resentment blazed into fury, but he kept cool
outwardly.

Right before a crowd of Indians waiting for the council to begin,
Joe planted himself in front of the Shawnee, barring his way.

"Silvertip has the paleface's horse and dog," said Joe, in a loud
voice.

The chief stared haughtily while the other Indians sauntered nearer.
They all knew how the Shawnee had got the animals, and now awaited
the outcome of the white man's challenge.

"Paleface—heap—liar," growled the Indian. His dark eyes glowed
craftily, while his hand dropped, apparently in careless habit, to
the haft of his tomahawk.

Joe swung his long arm; his big fist caught the Shawnee on the jaw,
sending him to the ground. Uttering a frightful yell, Silvertip drew
his weapon and attempted to rise, but the moment's delay in seizing
the hatchet, was fatal to his design. Joe was upon him with
tigerlike suddenness. One kick sent the tomahawk spinning, another
landed the Shawnee again on the ground. Blind with rage, Silvertip
leaped up, and without a weapon rushed at his antagonist; but the
Indian was not a boxer, and he failed to get his hands on Joe.
Shifty and elusive, the lad dodged around the struggling savage.
One, two, three hard blows staggered Silvertip, and a fourth,
delivered with the force of Joe's powerful arm, caught the Indian
when he was off his balance, and felled him, battered and bloody, on
the grass. The surrounding Indians looked down at the vanquished
Shawnee, expressing their approval in characteristic grunts.

With Lance prancing proudly, and Mose leaping lovingly beside him,
Joe walked back to his lodge. Whispering Winds sprang to meet him
with joyful face. She had feared the outcome of trouble with the
Shawnee, but no queen ever bestowed upon returning victorious lord a
loftier look of pride, a sweeter glance of love, than the Indian
maiden bent upon her lover.

Whispering Winds informed Joe that an important council was to be
held that afternoon. It would be wise for them to make the attempt
to get away immediately after the convening of the chiefs.
Accordingly she got upon Lance and rode him up and down the village
lane, much to the pleasure of the watching Indians. She scattered
the idle crowds on the grass plots, she dashed through the side
streets, and let every one in the encampment see her clinging to the
black stallion. Then she rode him out along the creek. Accustomed to
her imperious will, the Indians thought nothing unusual. When she
returned an hour later, with flying hair and disheveled costume, no
one paid particular attention to her.

That afternoon Joe and his bride were the favored of fortune. With
Mose running before them, they got clear of the encampment and into
the woods. Once in the forest Whispering Winds rapidly led the way
east. When they climbed to the top of a rocky ridge she pointed down
into a thicket before her, saying that somewhere in this dense
hollow was Girty's hut. Joe hesitated about taking Mose. He wanted
the dog, but in case he had to run it was necessary Whispering Winds
should find his trail, and for this he left the dog with her.

He started down the ridge, and had not gone a hundred paces when
over some gray boulders he saw the thatched roof of a hut. So wild
and secluded was the spot, that he would never have discovered the
cabin from any other point than this, which he had been so fortunate
as to find.

His study and practice under Wetzel now stood him in good stead. He
picked out the best path over the rough stones and through the
brambles, always keeping under cover. He stepped as carefully as if
the hunter was behind him. Soon he reached level ground. A dense
laurel thicket hid the cabin, but he knew the direction in which it
lay. Throwing himself flat on the ground, he wormed his way through
the thicket, carefully, yet swiftly, because he knew there was no
time to lose. Finally the rear of the cabin stood in front of him.