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The Spirit of the Border-Part23_Zane Gray(1872-1939)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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attention to her.



That afternoon Joe and his bride were the favored of fortune. With Mose

running before them, they got clear of the encampment and into the woods.



Once in the forest Whispering Winds rapidly led the way east. When they

climbed to the top of a rocky ridge she pointed down into a thicket before



her, saying that somewhere in this dense hollow was Girty's hut. Joe hesitated

about taking Mose. He wanted the dog, but in case he had to run it was



necessary Whispering Winds should find his trail, and for this he left the dog

with her.



He started down the ridge, and had not gone a hundred paces when over some

gray boulders he saw the thatched roof of a hut. So wild and secluded was the



spot, that he would never have discovered the cabin from any other point than

this, which he had been so fortunate as to find.



His study and practice under Wetzel now stood him in good stead. He picked out

the best path over the rough stones and through the brambles, always keeping



under cover. He stepped as carefully as if the hunter was behind him. Soon he

reached level ground. A dense laurelthicket hid the cabin, but he knew the



direction in which it lay. Throwing himself flat on the ground, he wormed his

way through the thicket, carefully, yet swiftly, because he knew there was no



time to lose. Finally the rear of the cabin stood in front of him.

It was made of logs, rudely hewn, and as rudely thrown together. In several



places clay had fallen from chinks between the timbers, leaving small holes.

Like a snake Joe slipped close to the hut. Raising his head he looked through



one of the cracks.

Instantly he shrank back into the grass, shivering with horror. He almost



choked in his attempt to prevent an outcry.

Chapter XVIII.



The sight which Joe had seen horrified him, for several moments, into helpless

inaction. He lay breathing heavily, impotent, in an awful rage. As he



remained there stunned by the shock, he gazed up through the open space in the

leaves, trying to still his fury, to realize the situation, to make no hasty



move. The soft blue of the sky, the fleecy clouds drifting eastward, the

fluttering leaves and the twittering birds--all assured him he was wide awake.



He had found Girty's den where so many white women had been hidden, to see

friends and home no more. He had seen the renegade sleeping, calmlysleeping



like any other man. How could the wretch sleep! He had seen Kate. It had been

the sight of her that had paralyzed him. To make a certainty of his fears, he



again raised himself to peep into the hole. As he did so a faint cry came from

within.



Girty lay on a buffalo robe near a barred door. Beyond him sat Kate, huddled

in one corner of the cabin. A long buckskin thong was knotted round her waist,



and tied to a log. Her hair was matted and tangled, and on her face and arms

were many discolored bruises. Worse still, in her plaintive moaning, in the



meaningless movement of her head, in her vacant expression, was proof that her

mind had gone. She was mad. Even as an agonizing pity came over Joe, to be



followed by the surging fire of rage, blazing up in his breast, he could not

but thank God that she was mad! It was merciful that Kate was no longer



conscious of her suffering.

Like leaves in a storm wavered Joe's hands as he clenched them until the nails



brought blood. "Be calm, be cool," whispered his monitor, Wetzel, ever with

him in spirit. But God! Could he be cool? Bounding with lion-spring he hurled



his heavy frame against the door.

Crash! The door was burst from its fastenings.



Girty leaped up with startled yell, drawing his knife as he rose. It had not

time to descend before Joe's second spring, more fierce even than the other,



carried him directly on top of the renegade. As the two went down Joe caught

the villain's wrist with a grip that literallycracked the bones. The knife



fell and rolled away from the struggling men. For an instant they tumbled

about on the floor, clasped in a crushing embrace. The renegade was strong,



supple, slippery as an eel. Twice he wriggled from his foe. Gnashing his

teeth, he fought like a hyena. He was fighting for life--life, which is never



so dear as to a coward and a murderer. Doom glared from Joe's big eyes, and

scream after scream issued from the renegade's white lips.



Terrible was this struggle, but brief. Joe seemingly had the strength of ten

men. Twice he pulled Girty down as a wolf drags a deer. He dashed him against






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