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Updated: June 10, 2025
Do you know, Sheppard, Jonathan's aversion to shedding blood is a singular thing. He'd never kill the worst kind of a white man until driven to it." "That's commendable. How about Wetzel?" "Well, Lew is different," replied Colonel Zane with a shudder. "If I told him to take an ax and clean out Metzar's place God! what a wreck he'd make of it.
"Jack," said Colonel Zane to his brother next morning, "to-day is Saturday and all the men will be in. There was high jinks over at Metzar's place yesterday, and I'm looking for more to-day. The two fellows Alex Bennet told me about, came on day-before-yesterday's boat. Sure enough, one's a lordly Englishman, and the other, the cussedest-looking little chap I ever saw.
But Helen had seen the cause of all this excitement. At first glance she thought Metzar's inn had been burned; but a second later it could be seen that the smoke came from a smoldering heap of rubbish in the road. The inn, nevertheless, had been wrecked. Windows stared with that vacantness peculiar to deserted houses. The doors were broken from their hinges.
Near sunset of a long day Jonathan strolled down the sandy, well-trodden path toward Metzar's inn. He did not drink, and consequently seldom visited the rude, dark, ill-smelling bar-room. When occasion demanded his presence there, he was evidently not welcome.
He wished, for the first time, that he could understand women better. "Everything quiet?" asked Colonel Zane, coming out on the steps. "All quiet," answered Jonathan. "They'll open up later, I suspect. I'm going over to Sheppard's for a while, and, later, will drop into Metzar's. I'll make him haul in a yard or two. I don't like things I hear about his selling the youngsters rum.
"I knew it, Metz. Wetzel!" he exclaimed in a husky voice. The blood slowly receded from Metzar's evil, murky face, leaving it haggard. "Deathwind-on-Chief's-trail-up-Eagle Rock," continued the Indian. "Deathwind-fooled-not-for-long. Chief-wait-paleface-brothers at Two Islands." The Indian stepped into the brook, parted the willows, and was gone as he had come, silently.
"I had all to do with it," answered the Englishman. "What do you mean?" He did not meet her gaze, nor make reply; but turned to address a few words in a low tone to a white man sitting on a log. Helen knew she had seen this person before, and doubted not he was one of Metzar's men. She saw a rude, bark lean-to, the remains of a camp-fire, and a pack tied in blankets.
An' yet any fool could see she's sweet, an' good, an' true as gold." Toward the middle of the afternoon Jonathan sauntered in the direction of Metzar's inn. It lay on the front of the bluff, with its main doors looking into the road. A long, one-story log structure with two doors, answered as a bar-room. The inn proper was a building more pretentious, and joined the smaller one at its western end.
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