The Zane Grey Megapack. Zane GreyЧитать онлайн книгу.
house. When he reappeared second later he had three rifles.
“I see horses, Lew. What do you make out?” said Jonathan. “It’s a bold manoeuvre for Indians unless they have a strong force.”
“Hostile Injuns wouldn’t show themselves like that. Maybe they ain’t redskins at all. We’ll go down to the bluff.”
“Oh, yes, let us go,” cried Betty, walking down the path toward Wetzel.
Col. Zane followed her, and presently the whole party were on their way to the river. When they reached the bluff they saw two horses come down the opposite bank and enter the water. Then they seemed to fade from view. The tall trees cast a dark shadow over the water and the horses had become lost in this obscurity. Col. Zane and Jonathan walked up and down the bank seeking to find a place which afforded a clearer view of the river.
“There they come,” shouted Silas.
“Yes, I see them just swimming out of the shadow,” said Col. Zane. “Both horses have riders. Lewis, what can you make out?”
“It’s Isaac and an Indian girl,” answered Wetzel.
This startling announcement created a commotion in the little group. It was followed by a chorus of exclamations.
“Heavens! Wetzel, you have wonderful eyes. I hope to God you are right. There, I see the foremost rider waving his hand,” cried Col. Zane.
“Oh, Bessie, Bessie! I believe Lew is right. Look at Tige,” said Betty excitedly.
Everybody had forgotten the dog. He had come down the path with Betty and had pressed close to her. First he trembled, then whined, then with a loud bark he ran down the bank and dashed into the water.
“Hel-lo, Betts,” came the cry across the water. There was no mistaking that clear voice. It was Isaac’s.
Although the sun had long gone down behind the hills daylight lingered. It was bright enough for the watchers to recognize Isaac Zane. He sat high on his horse and in his hand he held the bridle of a pony that was swimming beside him. The pony bore the slender figure of a girl. She was bending forward and her hands were twisted in the pony’s mane.
By this time the Colonel and Jonathan were standing in the shallow water waiting to grasp the reins and lead the horses up the steep bank. Attracted by the unusual sight of a wildly gesticulating group on the river bluff, the settlers from the Fort hurried down to the scene of action. Capt. Boggs and Alfred Clarke joined the crowd. Old Sam came running down from the barn. All were intensely excited and Col. Zane and Jonathan reached for the bridles and led the horses up the slippery incline.
“Eb, Jack, Silas, here I am alive and well,” cried Isaac as he leaped from his horse. “Betty, you darling, it’s Isaac. Don’t stand staring as if I were a ghost.”
Whereupon Betty ran to him, flung her arms around his neck and clung to him. Isaac kissed her tenderly and disengaged himself from her arms.
“You’ll get all wet. Glad to see me? Well, I never had such a happy moment in my life. Betty, I have brought you home one whom you must love. This is Myeerah, your sister. She is wet and cold. Take her home and make her warm and comfortable. You must forget all the past, for Myeerah has saved me from the stake.”
Betty had forgotten the other. At her brother’s words she turned and saw a slender form. Even the wet, mud-stained and ragged Indian costume failed to hide the grace of that figure. She saw a beautiful face, as white as her own, and dark eyes full of unshed tears.
“The Eagle is free,” said the Indian girl in her low, musical voice.
“You have brought him home to us. Come,” said Betty taking the hand of the trembling maiden.
The settlers crowded round Isaac and greeted him warmly while they plied him with innumerable questions. Was he free? Who was the Indian girl? Had he run off with her? Were the Indians preparing for war?
On the way to the Colonel’s house Isaac told briefly of his escape from the Wyandots, of his capture by Cornplanter, and of his rescue. He also mentioned the preparations for war he had seen in Cornplanter’s camp, and Girty’s story of Col. Crawford’s death.
“How does it come that you have the Indian girl with you?” asked Col. Zane as they left the curious settlers and entered the house.
“I am going to marry Myeerah and I brought her with me for that purpose. When we are married I will go back to the Wyandots and live with them until peace is declared.”
“Humph! Will it be declared?”
“Myeerah has promised it, and I believe she can bring it about, especially if I marry her. Peace with the Hurons may help to bring about peace with the Shawnees. I shall never cease to work for that end; but even if peace cannot be secured, my duty still is to Myeerah. She saved me from a most horrible death.”
“If your marriage with this Indian girl will secure the friendly offices of that grim old warrior Tarhe, it is far more than fighting will ever do. I do not want you to go back. Would we ever see you again?”
“Oh, yes, often I hope. You see, if I marry Myeerah the Hurons will allow me every liberty.”
“Well, that puts a different light on the subject.”
“Oh, how I wish you and Jonathan could have seen Thundercloud and his two hundred warriors ride into Cornplanter’s camp. It was magnificent! The braves were all crowded near the stake where I was bound. The fire had been lighted. Suddenly the silence was shattered by an awful yell. It was Thundercloud’s yell. I knew it because I had heard it before, and anyone who had once heard that yell could never forget it. In what seemed an incredibly short time Thundercloud’s warriors were lined up in the middle of the camp. The surprise was so complete that, had it been necessary, they could have ridden Cornplanter’s braves down, killed many, routed the others, and burned the village. Cornplanter will not get over that surprise in many a moon.”
Betty had always hated the very mention of the Indian girl who had been the cause of her brother’s long absence from home. But she was so happy in the knowledge of his return that she felt that it was in her power to forgive much; more over, the white, weary face of the Indian maiden touched Betty’s warm heart. With her quick intuition she had divined that this was even a greater trial for Myeerah. Undoubtedly the Indian girl feared the scorn of her lover’s people. She showed it in her trembling hands, in her fearful glances.
Finding that Myeerah could speak and understand English, Betty became more interested in her charge every moment. She set about to make Myeerah comfortable, and while she removed the wet and stained garments she talked all the time. She told her how happy she was that Isaac was alive and well. She said Myeerah’s heroism in saving him should atone for all the past, and that Isaac’s family would welcome her in his home.
Gradually Myeerah’s agitation subsided under Betty’s sweet graciousness, and by the time Betty had dressed her in a white gown, had brushed the dark hair and added a bright ribbon to the simple toilet, Myeerah had so far forgotten her fears as to take a shy pleasure in the picture of herself in the mirror. As for Betty, she gave vent to a little cry of delight. “Oh, you are perfectly lovely,” cried Betty. “In that gown no one would know you as a Wyandot princess.”
“Myeerah’s mother was a white woman.”
“I have heard your story, Myeerah, and it is wonderful. You must tell me all about your life with the Indians. You speak my language almost as well as I do. Who taught you?”
“Myeerah learned to talk with the White Eagle. She can speak French with the Coureurs-des-bois.”
“That’s more than I can do, Myeerah. And I had French teacher,” said Betty, laughing.
“Hello, up there,” came Isaac’s voice from below.
“Come up, Isaac,” called Betty.
“Is this my Indian sweetheart?” exclaimed Isaac, stopping at the door. “Betty,