United States or Guatemala ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
The old chief slowly advanced toward the Christian Indians. He laid aside his knife and tomahawk, and then his eagle plumes and war-bonnet. Bareheaded, he seated himself among the converted redmen. They began chanting in low, murmuring tones. Amid the breathless silence that followed this act of such great significance, Wingenund advanced toward the knoll with slow, stately step.
His hurry and utter disregard for the plain trail left behind, proved his belief in the necessity of placing many miles between the fugitives and the Village of Peace. Evidently they would be followed, and it would be a waste of valuable time to try to conceal their trail. Gradually the ground began to rise, the way become more difficult, but Wingenund never slackened his pace.
On rising she found herself near the Indian chief. He took her fingers in his great hand, and held them with a strong, warm pressure. Strangely thrilled, she looked up at Wingenund. His somber eyes, fixed piercingly on the forest, and his dark stern face, were, as always, inscrutable.
Look at those golden flowers, the red and purple leaves, the brown shining moss, and those lichen-covered stones. Why! Some one has camped here. See the little cave, the screens of plaited ferns, and the stone fireplace." "It seems to me this dark spring and those gracefully spreading branches are familiar," said Jim. "Beautiful Spring," interposed Wingenund.
"Yes, and a fitting end it was to the frontier 'Skull and Cross-bones'." "It was like Wetzel to think of such a vengeance." "Has Wetzel come in since?" "No. Jonathan says he went after Wingenund, and there's no telling when he'll return." "I hoped he would spare the Delaware." "Wetzel spare an Indian!" "But the chief was a friend. He surely saved the girl."
Heckewelder, you would not go? Nor you, Zeisberger? We may yet be of use, we may yet save some of the Christians." "Save the yellow-hair," sternly said Wingenund. "Oh, Jim, you don't understand. The chief has come to warn me of Girty. He intends to take me as he has others, as he did poor Kate. did you not see the meaning in his eyes to-day? How they scorched me! Ho! Jim, take me away! Save me!
"I am sorry, too, because Wingenund was a fine Indian. But Wetzel is implacable." "Here's Nell, and Mrs. Clarke too. Come out, both of you," cried Jim. Nell appeared in the doorway with Colonel Zane's sister. The two girls came down the steps and greeted the young man. The bride's sweet face was white and thin, and there was a shadow in her eyes.
The little bead on the front sight first covered the British officer, and then the broad breast of Girty. It moved reluctantly and searched out the heart of Wingenund, where it lingered for a fleeting instant. At last it rested upon the swarthy face of Miller. "Fer Betty," muttered the hunter, between his clenched teeth as he pressed the trigger. The spiteful report awoke a thousand echoes.
Simon Girty's face betrayed satisfaction; Elliott's shifty eyes snapped, and the dark, repulsive face of the other Girty exhibited an exultant joy. These desperadoes had feared this hunter. Wingenund, with a majestic wave of his arm, silenced the yelling horde of frenzied savages and stepped before the captive. The deadly foes were once again face to face.
When your shadow falls shortest on the ground, Deathwind starts on your trail." "Deathwind is the great white chief; he is the great Indian foe; he is as sure as the panther in his leap; as swift as the wild goose in his northern flight. Wingenund never felt fear." The chieftain's sonorous reply rolled through the quiet glade.
Word Of The Day