“There’s that blamed sailor now,” said Sheppard. “He’s a tough nut. My! What a knock on the head Jonathan gave him. Strikes me, too, that tomahawk came almost at the right time to save me a whole skin.”
“I was furious, but not at all alarmed,” rejoined Colonel Zane.
“I wondered what made you so quiet.”
“I was waiting. Jonathan never acts until the right moment, and then—well, you saw him. The little villain deserved killing. I could have shot him with pleasure. 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. Maybe I’ll have to tell him, and if I do, you’ll see something you can never forget.”
CHAPTER IX
On Sunday morning under the bright, warm sun, the little hamlet of Fort Henry lay peacefully quiet, as if no storms had ever rolled and thundered overhead, no roistering ever disturbed its stillness, and no Indian’s yell ever horribly broke the quiet.
“’Tis a fine morning,” said Colonel Zane, joining his sister on the porch. “Well, how nice you look! All in white for the first time since—well, you do look charming. You’re going to church, of course.”
“Yes, I invited Helen and her cousin to go. I’ve persuaded her to teach my Sunday-school class, and I’ll take another of older children,” replied Betty.
“That’s well. The youngsters don’t have much chance to learn out here. But we’ve made one great stride. A church and a preacher means very much to young people. Next shall come the village school.”
“Helen and I might teach our classes an hour or two every afternoon.”
“It would be a grand thing if you did! Fancy these tots growing up unable to read or write. I hate to think of it; but the Lord knows I’ve done my best. I’ve had my troubles in keeping them alive.”
“Helen suggested the day school. She takes the greatest interest in everything and everybody. Her energy is remarkable. She simply must move, must do something. She overflows with kindness and sympathy. Yesterday she cried with happiness when Mabel told her Alex was eager to be married very soon. I tell you, Eb, Helen is a fine character.”
“Yes, good as she is pretty, which is saying some,” mused the colonel. “I wonder who’ll be the lucky fellow to win her.”
“It’s hard to say. Not that Englishman, surely. She hates him. Jonathan might. You should see her eyes when he is mentioned.”
“Say, Betts, you don’t mean it?” eagerly asked her brother.
“Yes, I do,” returned Betty, nodding her head positively. “I’m not easily deceived about those things. Helen’s completely fascinated with Jack. She might be only a sixteen-year-old girl for the way she betrays herself to me.”
“Betty, I have a beautiful plan.”
“No doubt; you’re full of them.”
“We can do it, Betty, we can, you and I,” he said, as he squeezed her arm.
“My dear old matchmaking brother,” returned Betty, laughing, “it takes two to make a bargain. Jack must be considered.”
“Bosh!” exclaimed the colonel, snapping his fingers. “You needn’t tell me any young man—any man, could resist that glorious girl.”
“Perhaps not; I couldn’t if I were a man. But Jack’s not like other people. He’d never realize that she cared for him. Besides, he’s a borderman.”
“I know, and that’s the only serious obstacle. But he could scout around the fort, even if he was married. These long, lonely, terrible journeys taken by him and Wetzel are mostly unnecessary. A sweet wife could soon make him see that. The border will be civilized in a few years, and because of that he’d better give over hunting for Indians. I’d like to see him married and settled down, like all the rest of us, even Isaac. You know Jack’s the last of the Zanes, that is, the old Zanes. The difficulty arising from his extreme modesty and bashfulness can easily be overcome.”
“How, most wonderful brother?”
“Easy as pie. Tell Jack that Helen is dying of love for him, and tell her that Jack loves—”
“But, dear Eb, that latter part is not true,” interposed Betty.
“True, of course it’s true, or would be in any man who wasn’t as blind as a bat. We’ll tell her Jack cares for her; but he is a borderman with stern ideas of duty, and so slow and backward he’d never tell his love even if he had overcome his tricks of ranging. That would settle it with any girl worth her salt, and this one will fetch Jack in ten days, or less.”
“Eb, you’re a devil,” said Betty gaily, and then she added in a more sober vein, “I understand, Eb. Your idea is prompted by love of Jack, and it’s all right. I never see him go out of the clearing but I think it may be for the last time, even as on that day so long ago when brother Andrew waved his cap to us, and never came back. Jack is the best man in the world, and I, too, want to see him happy, with a wife, and babies, and a settled occupation in life. I think we might weave a pretty little romance. Shall we try?”
“Try? We’ll do it! Now, Betts, you explain it to both. You can do it smoother than I, and telling them is really the finest point of our little plot. I’ll help the good work along afterwards. He’ll be out presently. Nail him at once.”
Jonathan, all unconscious of the deep-laid scheme to make him happy, soon came out on the porch, and stretched his long arms as he breathed freely of the morning air.
“Hello, Jack, where are you bound?” asked Betty, clasping one of his powerful, buckskin-clad knees with her arm.
“I reckon I’ll go over to the spring,” he replied, patting her dark, glossy head.
“Do you know I want to tell you something, Jack, and it’s quite serious,” she said, blushing a little at her guilt; but resolute to carry out her part of the plot.
“Well, dear?” he asked as she hesitated.
“Do you like Helen?”
“That is a question,” Jonathan replied after a moment.
“Never mind; tell me,” she persisted.
He made no answer.
“Well, Jack, she’s—she’s wildly in love with you.”
The borderman stood very still for several moments. Then, with one step he gained the lawn, and turned to confront her.
“What’s that you say?”
Betty trembled a little. He spoke so sharply, his eyes were bent on her so keenly, and he looked so strong, so forceful that she was almost afraid. But remembering that she had said only what, to her mind, was absolutely true, she raised her eyes and repeated the words:
“Helen is wildly’in love with you.”
“Betty, you wouldn’t joke about such a thing; you wouldn’t lie to me, I know you wouldn’t.”
“No, Jack dear.”
She saw his powerful frame tremble, even as she had seen more than one man tremble, during the siege, under the impact of a bullet.
Without speaking, he walked rapidly down the path toward the spring.
Colonel Zane came out of his hiding-place behind the porch and, with a face positively electrifying in its glowing pleasure, beamed upon his sister.
“Gee! Didn’t he stalk