Twilight of a certain summer day, many years ago, shaded softly down
over the wild Ohio valley bringing keen anxiety to a traveler on the
lonely river trail. He had expected to reach Fort Henry with his party
on this night, thus putting a welcome end to the long, rough,
hazardous journey through the wilderness; but the swift, on-coming
dusk made it imperative to halt. The narrow, forest-skirted trail,
difficult to follow in broad daylight, apparently led into gloomy
aisles in the woods. His guide had abandoned him that morning, making
excuse that his services were no longer needed; his teamster was new
to the frontier, and, altogether, the situation caused him much
uneasiness.
"I wouldn't so much mind another night in camp, if the guide had not
left us," he said in a low tone to the teamster.
That worthy shook his shaggy head, and growled while he began
unhitching the horses.
"Uncle," said a young man, who had clambered out from the wagon, "we
must be within a few miles of Fort Henry."
"How d'ye know we're near the fort?" interrupted the teamster, "or
safe, either, fer thet matter? I don't know this country."
"The guide assured me we could easily make Fort Henry by sundown."
"Thet guide! I tell ye, Mr. Sheppard----"
"Not so loud. Do not alarm my daughter," cautioned the man who had
been called Sheppard.
"Did ye notice anythin' queer about thet guide?" asked the teamster,
lowering his voice. "Did ye see how oneasy he was last night? Did it
strike ye he left us in a hurry, kind of excited like, in spite of his
offhand manner?"
"Yes, he acted odd, or so it seemed to me," replied Sheppard. "How
about you, Will?"
"Now that I think of it, I believe he was queer. He behaved like a man
who expected somebody, or feared something might happen. I fancied,
however, that it was simply the manner of a woodsman."
"Wal, I hev my opinion," said the teamster, in a gruff whisper. "Ye
was in a hurry to be a-goin', an' wouldn't take no advice. The
fur-trader at Fort Pitt didn't give this guide Jenks no good send off.
Said he wasn't well-known round Pitt, 'cept he could handle a
knife some."
"What is your opinion?" asked Sheppard, as the teamster paused.
"Wal, the valley below Pitt is full of renegades, outlaws an'
hoss-thieves. The redskins ain't so bad as they used to be, but these
white fellers are wusser'n ever. This guide Jenks might be in with
them, that's all. Mebbe I'm wrong. I hope so. The way he left us
looks bad."
"We won't borrow trouble. If we have come all this way without seeing
either Indian or outlaw--in fact, without incident--I feel certain we
can perform the remainder of the journey in safety." Then Mr. Sheppard
raised his voice. "Here, Helen, you lazy girl, come out of that wagon.
We want some supper. Will, you gather some firewood, and we'll soon
give this gloomy little glen a more cheerful aspect."
As Mr. Sheppard turned toward the canvas-covered wagon a girl leaped
lightly down beside him. She was nearly as tall as he.
"Is this Fort Henry?" she asked, cheerily, beginning to dance around
him. "Where's the inn? I'm _so_ hungry. How glad I am to get out of
that wagon! I'd like to run. Isn't this a lonesome, lovely spot?"
A camp-fire soon crackled with hiss and sputter, and fragrant
wood-smoke filled the air. Steaming kettle, and savory steaks of
venison cheered the hungry travelers, making them forget for the time
the desertion of their guide and the fact that they might be lost. The
last glow faded entirely out of the western sky. Night enveloped the
forest, and the little glade was a bright spot in the gloom.
The flickering light showed Mr. Sheppard to be a well-preserved old
man with gray hair and ruddy, kindly face. The nephew had a boyish,
frank expression. The girl was a splendid specimen of womanhood. Her
large, laughing eyes were as dark as the shadows beneath the trees.
Suddenly a quick start on Helen's part interrupted the merry flow of
conversation. She sat bolt upright with half-averted face.
"Cousin, what is the matter?" asked Will, quickly.
Helen remained motionless.
"My dear," said Mr. Sheppard sharply.
"I heard a footstep," she whispered, pointing with trembling finger
toward the impenetrable blackness beyond the camp-fire.
All could hear a soft patter on the leaves. Then distinct footfalls
broke the silence.
The tired teamster raised his shaggy head and glanced fearfully around
the glade. Mr. Sheppard and Will gazed doubtfully toward the foliage;
but Helen did not change her position. The travelers appeared stricken
by the silence and solitude of the place. The faint hum of insects,
and the low moan of the night wind, seemed accentuated by the almost
painful stillness.
"A panther, most likely," suggested Sheppard, in a voice which he
intended should be reassuring. "I saw one to-day slinking along
the trail."
"I'd better get my gun from the wagon," said Will.
"How dark and wild it is here!" exclaimed Helen nervously. "I believe
I was frightened. Perhaps I fancied it--there! Again--listen. Ah!"
Two tall figures emerged from the darkness into the circle of light,
and with swift, supple steps gained the camp-fire before any of the
travelers had time to move. They were Indians, and the brandishing of
their tomahawks proclaimed that they were hostile.
"Ugh!" grunted the taller savage, as he looked down upon the
defenseless, frightened group.
As the menacing figures stood in the glare of the fire gazing at the
party with shifty eyes, they presented a frightful appearance. Fierce
lineaments, all the more so because of bars of paint, the hideous,
shaven heads adorned with tufts of hair holding a single feather,
sinewy, copper-colored limbs suggestive of action and endurance, the
general aspect of untamed ferocity, appalled the travelers and chilled
their blood.
Grunts and chuckles manifested the satisfaction with which the Indians
fell upon the half-finished supper. They caused it to vanish with
astonishing celerity, and resembled wolves rather than human beings in
their greediness.
Helen looked timidly around as if hoping to see those who would aid,
and the savages regarded her with ill humor. A movement on the part of
any member of the group caused muscular hands to steal toward the
tomahawks.
Suddenly the larger savage clutched his companion's knee. Then lifting
his hatchet, shook it with a significant gesture in Sheppard's face,
at the same time putting a finger on his lips to enjoin silence. Both
Indians became statuesque in their immobility. They crouched in an
attitude of listening, with heads bent on one side, nostrils dilated,
and mouths open.
One, two, three moments passed. The silence of the forest appeared to
be unbroken; but ears as keen as those of a deer had detected some
sound. The larger savage dropped noiselessly to the ground, where he
lay stretched out with his ear to the ground. The other remained
immovable; only his beady eyes gave signs of life, and these covered
every point.
Finally the big savage rose silently, pointed down the dark trail, and
strode out of the circle of light. His companion followed close at his
heels. The two disappeared in the black shadows like specters, as
silently as they had come.
"Well!" breathed Helen.
"I am immensely relieved!" exclaimed Will.
"What do you make of such strange behavior?" Sheppard asked of the
teamster.
"I'spect they got wind of somebody; most likely thet guide, an'll be
back again. If they ain't, it's because they got switched off by some
signs or tokens, skeered, perhaps, by the scent of the wind."
Hardly had he ceased speaking when again the circle of light was
invaded by stalking forms.
"I thought so! Here comes the skulkin' varmints," whispered the
teamster.
But he was wrong. A deep, calm voice spoke the single word: "Friends."
Two men in the brown garb of woodsmen approached. One approached the
travelers; the other remained in the background, leaning upon a long,
black rifle.
Thus exposed to the glare of the flames, the foremost woodsman
presented a singularly picturesque figure. His costume was the fringed
buckskins of the border. Fully six feet tall, this lithe-limbed young
giant had something of the wild, free grace of the Indian in
his posture.
He surveyed the wondering travelers with dark, grave eyes.
"Did the reddys do any mischief?" he asked.
"No, they didn't harm us," replied Sheppard. "They ate our supper,
and slipped off into the woods without so much as touching one of us.
But, indeed, sir, we are mighty glad to see you."
Will echoed this sentiment, and Helen's big eyes were fastened upon
the stranger in welcome and wonder.
"We saw your fire blazin' through the twilight, an' came up just in
time to see the Injuns make off."
"Might they not hide in the bushes and shoot us?" asked Will, who had
listened to many a border story at Fort Pitt. "It seems as if we'd
make good targets in this light."
The gravity of the woodsman's face relaxed.
"You will pursue them?" asked Helen.
"They've melted into the night-shadows long ago," he replied. "Who was
your guide?"
"I hired him at Fort Pitt. He left us suddenly this morning. A big
man, with black beard and bushy eyebrows. A bit of his ear had been
shot or cut out," Sheppard replied.
"Jenks, one of Bing Legget's border-hawks."
"You have his name right. And who may Bing Legget be?"
"He's an outlaw. Jenks has been tryin' to lead you into a trap. Likely
he expected those Injuns to show up a day or two ago. Somethin' went
wrong with the plan, I reckon. Mebbe he was waitin' for five Shawnees,
an' mebbe he'll never see three of 'em again."
Something suggestive, cold, and grim, in the last words did not escape
the listeners.
"How far are we from Fort Henry?" asked Sheppard.
"Eighteen miles as a crow flies; longer by trail."
"Treachery!" exclaimed the old man. "We were no more than that this
morning. It is indeed fortunate that you found us. I take it you are
from Fort Henry, and will guide us there? I am an old friend of
Colonel Zane's. He will appreciate any kindness you may show us. Of
course you know him?"
"I am Jonathan Zane."
Sheppard suddenly realized that he was facing the most celebrated
scout on the border. In Revolutionary times Zane's fame had extended
even to the far Atlantic Colonies.
"And your companion?" asked Sheppard with keen interest. He guessed
what might be told. Border lore coupled Jonathan Zane with a strange
and terrible character, a border Nemesis, a mysterious, shadowy,
elusive man, whom few pioneers ever saw, but of whom all knew.
"Wetzel," answered Zane.
With one accord the travelers gazed curiously at Zane's silent
companion. In the dim background of the glow cast by the fire, he
stood a gigantic figure, dark, quiet, and yet with something
intangible in his shadowy outline.
Suddenly he appeared to merge into the gloom as if he really were a
phantom. A warning, "Hist!" came from the bushes.
With one swift kick Zane scattered the camp-fire.
The travelers waited with bated breaths. They could hear nothing save
the beating of their own hearts; they could not even see each other.
"Better go to sleep," came in Zane's calm voice. What a relief it was!
"We'll keep watch, an' at daybreak guide you to Fort Henry."