the past, why, all may be well yet. I can see that the border is the place for
me. But now, Jim, for once in your life take a word of advice from me. We're
out on the
frontier, where every man looks after himself. Your being a
minister won't protect you here where every man wears a knife and a tomahawk,
and where most of them are desperadoes. Cut out that soft voice and most of
your gentle ways, and be a little more like your brother. Be as kind as you
like, and
preach all you want to; but when some of these buckskin-legged
frontiermen try to walk all over you, as they will, take your own part in a
way you have never taken it before. I had my lesson the first few days out
with that wagon-train. It was a case of four fights; but I'm all right now."
"Joe, I won't run, if that's what you mean," answered Jim, with a laugh.
"Yes, I understand that a new life begins here, and I am content. If I can
find my work in it, and remain with you, I shall be happy."
"Ah! old Mose! I'm glad to see you," Joe cried to the big dog who came nosing
round him. "You've brought this old fellow; did you bring the horses?"
"Look behind the wagon."
With the dog bounding before him, Joe did as he was directed, and there found
two horses tethered side by side. Little wonder that his eyes gleamed with
delight. One was jet-black; the other iron-gray and in every line the
clean-limbed animals showed the thoroughbred. The black threw up his slim head
and whinnied, with
affection clearly shining in his soft, dark eyes as he
recognized his master.
"Lance, old fellow, how did I ever leave you!" murmured Joe, as he threw his
arm over the
arched neck. Mose stood by looking up, and wagging his tail in
token of happiness at the
reunion of the three old friends. There were tears
in Joe's eyes when, with a last
affectionate
caress, he turned away from his
pet.
"Come, Jim, I'll take you to Mr. Wells."
They stated across the little square, while Mose went back under the wagon;
but at a word from Joe he bounded after them, trotting contentedly at their
heels. Half way to the cabins a big, raw-boned teamster, singing in a drunken
voice, came staggering toward them. Evidently he had just left the group of
people who had gathered near the Indians.
"I didn't expect to see drunkenness out here," said Jim, in a low tone.
"There's lots of it. I saw that fellow
yesterday when he, couldn't walk.
Wentz told me he was a bad customer."
The teamster, his red face bathed in perspiration, and his sleeves rolled up,
showing brown, knotty arms, lurched toward them. As they met he aimed a kick
at the dog; but Mose leaped nimbly aside, avoiding the heavy boot. He did not
growl, nor show his teeth; but the great white head sank forward a little, and
the lithe body crouched for a spring.
"Don't touch that dog; he'll tear your leg off!" Joe cried sharply.
"Say, pard, cum an' hev' a drink," replied the teamster, with a friendly leer.
"I don't drink," answered Joe, curtly, and moved on.
The teamster growled something of which only the word "parson" was
intelligible to the brothers. Joe stopped and looked back. His gray eyes
seemed to contract; they did not flash, but shaded and lost their
warmth. Jim
saw the change, and,
knowing what it signified, took Joe's arm as he gently
urged him away. The teamster's
shrill voice could be heard until they entered
the fur-trader's cabin.
An old man with long, white hair flowing from beneath his wide-brimmed hat,
sat near the door
holding one of Mrs. Wentz's children on his knee. His face
was deep-lined and serious; but kindness shone from his mild blue eyes.
"Mr. Wells, this is my brother James. He is a
preacher, and has come in place
of the man you expected from Williamsburg."
The old
minister arose, and
extended his hand, gazing
earnestly at the
new-comer
meanwhile. Evidently he approved of what he saw in his quick
scrutiny of the other's face, for his lips were wreathed with a smile of
welcome.
"Mr. Downs, I am glad to meet you, and to know you will go with me. I thank
God I shall take into the
wilderness one who is young enough to carry on the
work when my days are done."
"I will make it my duty to help you in
whatsoever way lies in my power,"
answered Jim,
earnestly.
"We have a great work before us. I have heard many scoffers who claim that it
is worse than folly to try to teach these
fierce savages Christianity; but I
know it can be done, and my heart is in the work. I have no fear; yet I would
not
conceal from you, young man, that the danger of going among these hostile
Indians must be great."
"I will not
hesitate because of that. My
sympathy is with the redman. I have
had an opportunity of studying Indian nature and believe the race inherently
noble. He has been
driven to make war, and I want to help him into other
paths."