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How can these two men, alone, cope with savages, as I've heard they do, and break up such an outlaw band as Legget's?" "That's a question I've heard Daniel Boone ask about Wetzel, and Boone, though not a borderman in all the name implies, was a great Indian fighter. I've heard old frontiersmen, grown grizzled on the frontier, use the same words.
"Brandt's had a hand in this, an' the Englishman's a fool!" said Wetzel. "An hour ahead; can we come up with them before they join Brandt an' Legget?" "We can try, but like as not we'll fail. Legget's gang is thirteen strong by now. I said it! Somethin' told me a hard trail, a long trail, an' our last trail." "It's over thirty miles to Legget's camp.
With the wiping out of Legget's fierce band, the yoke of the renegades and outlaws was thrown off forever. Simon Girty migrated to Canada and lived with a few Indians who remained true to him. His confederates slowly sank into oblivion.
In Legget's rude log cabin a fire burned low, lightening the forms of the two border outlaws, and showing in the background the dark forms of Indians sitting motionless on the floor. Their dusky eyes emitted a baleful glint, seemingly a reflection of their savage souls caught by the firelight. Legget wore a look of ferocity and sullen fear strangely blended.
Metzar an' Brandt with their allies, whoever they are, will be in it, an' if Bing Legget's in the gang, we've got, as Wetzel said, a long, hard trail, which may be our last. More'n that, there'll be trouble about this chain-lightnin' girl, as Wetzel predicted.
Legget's fury must have been awful, to judge from his hoarse screams; the Indians' fear maddening, as could be told by their shrieks. The two savages ran wildly about the combatants, one trying to level a rifle, the other to get in a blow with a tomahawk. But the movements of the trio, locked in deadly embrace, were too swift. Above all the noise of the contest rose that strange, thrilling roar.
A cleft in the stony wall let out a brawling brook, and served, no doubt, as entrance to the place. Several rude log cabins stood on that side of the enclosure. Jonathan knew he had been brought to Bing Legget's retreat.
"Cap'n, a nip an' no more," Case replied, holding the flask to Legget's lips. The outlaw called Jenks now returned with a flat stone which he placed between the two men. The Indians gathered around. With greedy eyes they bent their heads over the gamblers, and watched every movement with breathless interest. At each click of the dice, or clink of gold, they uttered deep exclamations.
Without even a groan he dropped. "Clear the decks!" Case yelled, sweeping round in a circle. All fell back before that whirling knife. Several of the Indians started as if to raise their rifles; but Legget's stern command caused them to desist. The Englishman and the outlaw now engaged in a fearful encounter.
"This's different," and Wetzel turned away again. His voice was cold and hard. "How is it different? We've had the same thing to do, almost, more than once." "We've never had as bad a bunch to handle as Legget's. They're lookin' fer us, an' will be hard to beat." "That's no reason." "We never had to save a girl one of us loved." Jonathan was silent.
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