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On the instant the borderman knew that some unforeseen peril or urgent cause had put Wetzel to flight, and he now bent piercing eyes around the grove. Retracing his steps to where he had found the break in the trail, he followed up Brandt's tracks for several rods.
Brandt may have been astonished at finding a borderman talking to a girl, and certainly, as far as Jonathan was concerned, the incident was without precedent. But, on the other hand, Brandt may have had another reason, and Jonathan tried to study out what it might be. He gave but little thought to Helen. That she might like him exceedingly well, did not come into his mind.
The borderman was silent; but the furtive, restless shifting of his eyes over the river and island, hill and valley, spoke more plainly than words. "You're to take his trail at once," added Colonel Zane. "I had Bess put you up some bread, meat and parched corn. No doubt you'll have a long, hard tramp. Good luck."
Then, with a woman's quick intuition, she understood that coquetries were lost on this borderman, and, with a smile, got the better of her embarrassment and humiliation by telling the truth. "I wanted to ask a favor of you, and I'm a little afraid." She spoke with girlish shyness, which increased as he stared at her. "Why why do you look at me so?"
She put her hand in his and jumped lightly as a fawn. Presently a brawling brook, over-crowding its banks, impeded further progress. "I'll have to carry you across," said Jonathan. "I'm very heavy," replied Helen, with a smile in her eyes. She flushed as the borderman put his right arm around her waist.
What the deuce Say Betts, eh?" Betty had given him a sharp little kick. The borderman looked embarrassed. He hesitated and flushed. Evidently he would have liked to avoid his brother's question; but the inquiry came direct. Dissimulation with him was impossible. "Helen wanted this, an' I reckon that's where I'm goin' with it," he said finally, and walked away.
This Wetzel, this Indian-hunter whom she had heard called "Deathwind of the Border," this companion, guide, teacher of Jonathan Zane, this borderman of wonderful deeds, stood before her. Helen saw a cold face, deathly in its pallor, lighted by eyes sloe-black but like glinting steel.
The bordermen met each other's glance, and had little need of words. Wetzel's great shoulders began to sag slightly, and his head lowered as his eyes sought the grass; a dark and gloomy shade overcast his features. Thus he passed from borderman to Deathwind. The sough of the wind overhead among the almost naked branches might well have warned Indians and renegades that Deathwind was on the trail!
The borderman bowed and bent like a broken reed. "Listen," she whispered, coming closer to him, "go if you must leave me; but let this be your last trail. Come back to me, Jack, come back to me! You have had enough of this terrible life; you have won a name that will never be forgotten; you have done your duty to the border. The Indians and outlaws will be gone soon.
She came close to him and looked up with all her heart in her great dark eyes, and love trembling on her red lips. Calmness deserted the borderman after one glance at her. He paced the floor; twisted and clasped his hands while his eyes gleamed. "Lass, I'm only human," he cried hoarsely, facing her again.
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