The Spirit of the Border

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THE SPIRIT OF THE BORDER
A ROMANCE OF THE EARLY SETTLERS IN THE OHIO VALLEY

BY ZANE GREY

1906



To my brother

With many fond recollections of days spent in the solitude of the
forests where only can be satisfied that wild fever of freedom of
which this book tells; where to hear the whirr of a wild duck in his
rapid flight is joy; where the quiet of an autumn afternoon swells
the heart, and where one may watch the fragrant wood-smoke curl from
the campfire, and see the stars peep over dark, wooded hills as
twilight deepens, and know a happiness that dwells in the wilderness
alone.



Introduction

The author does not intend to apologize for what many readers may
call the "brutality" of the story; but rather to explain that its
wild spirit is true to the life of the Western border as it was
known only a little more than one hundred years ago.

The writer is the fortunate possessor of historical material of
undoubted truth and interest. It is the long-lost journal of Colonel
Ebenezer Zane, one of the most prominent of the hunter-pioneer, who
labored in the settlement of the Western country.

The story of that tragic period deserves a higher place in
historical literature than it has thus far been given, and this
unquestionably because of a lack of authentic data regarding the
conquering of the wilderness. Considering how many years the
pioneers struggled on the border of this country, the history of
their efforts is meager and obscure.

If the years at the close of the eighteenth and the beginning of the
nineteenth century were full of stirring adventure on the part of
the colonists along the Atlantic coast, how crowded must they have
been for the almost forgotten pioneers who daringly invaded the
trackless wilds! None there was to chronicle the fight of these
sturdy, travelers toward the setting sun. The story of their stormy
lives, of their heroism, and of their sacrifice for the benefit of
future generations is too little known.

It is to a better understanding of those days that the author has
labored to draw from his ancestor's notes a new and striking
portrayal of the frontier; one which shall paint the fever of
freedom, that powerful impulse which lured so many to unmarked
graves; one which shall show his work, his love, the effect of the
causes which rendered his life so hard, and surely one which does
not forget the wronged Indian.

The frontier in 1777 produced white men so savage as to be men in
name only. These outcasts and renegades lived among the savages, and
during thirty years harassed the border, perpetrating all manner of
fiendish cruelties upon the settlers. They were no less cruel to the
redmen whom they ruled, and at the height of their bloody careers
made futile the Moravian missionaries' long labors, and destroyed
the beautiful hamlet of the Christian Indians, called Gnaddenhutten,
or Village of Peace.

And while the border produced such outlaws so did it produce hunters
Eke Boone, the Zanes, the McCollochs, and Wetzel, that strange,
silent man whose deeds are still whispered in the country where he
once roamed in his insatiate pursuit of savages and renegades, and
who was purely a product of the times. Civilization could not have
brought forth a man like Wetzel. Great revolutions, great crises,
great moments come, and produce the men to deal with them.

The border needed Wetzel. The settlers would have needed many more
years in which to make permanent homes had it not been for him. He
was never a pioneer; but always a hunter after Indians. When not on
the track of the savage foe, he was in the settlement, with his keen
eye and ear ever alert for signs of the enemy. To the superstitious
Indians he was a shadow; a spirit of the border, which breathed
menace from the dark forests. To the settlers he was the right arm
of defense, a fitting leader for those few implacable and unerring
frontiersmen who made the settlement of the West a possibility.

And if this story of one of his relentless pursuits shows the man as
he truly was, loved by pioneers, respected and feared by redmen, and
hated by renegades; if it softens a little the ruthless name history
accords him, the writer will have been well repaid.

Z. G.



The Spirit of the Border



Chapter I.

"Nell, I'm growing powerful fond of you."

"So you must be, Master Joe, if often telling makes it true."

The girl spoke simply, and with an absence of that roguishness which
was characteristic of her. Playful words, arch smiles, and a touch
of coquetry had seemed natural to Nell; but now her grave tone and
her almost wistful glance disconcerted Joe.

During all the long journey over the mountains she had been gay and
bright, while now, when they were about to part, perhaps never to
meet again, she showed him the deeper and more earnest side of her
character. It checked his boldness as nothing else had done.
Suddenly there came to him the real meaning of a woman's love when
she bestows it without reservation. Silenced by the thought that he
had not understood her at all, and the knowledge that he had been
half in sport, he gazed out over the wild country before them.

The scene impressed its quietness upon the young couple and brought
more forcibly to their minds the fact that they were at the gateway
of the unknown West; that somewhere beyond this rude frontier
settlement, out there in those unbroken forests stretching dark and
silent before them, was to be their future home.

From the high bank where they stood the land sloped and narrowed
gradually until it ended in a sharp point which marked the last bit
of land between the Allegheny and Monongahela rivers. Here these
swift streams merged and formed the broad Ohio. The new-born river,
even here at its beginning proud and swelling as if already certain
of its far-away grandeur, swept majestically round a wide curve and
apparently lost itself in the forest foliage.

On the narrow point of land commanding a view of the rivers stood a
long, low structure enclosed by a stockade fence, on the four
corners of which were little box-shaped houses that bulged out as if
trying to see what was going on beneath. The massive timbers used in
the construction of this fort, the square, compact form, and the
small, dark holes cut into the walls, gave the structure a
threatening, impregnable aspect.

Below Nell and Joe, on the bank, were many log cabins. The yellow
clay which filled the chinks between the logs gave these a peculiar
striped appearance. There was life and bustle in the vicinity of
these dwellings, in sharp contrast with the still grandeur of the
neighboring forests. There were canvas-covered wagons around which
curly-headed youngsters were playing. Several horses were grazing on
the short grass, and six red and white oxen munched at the hay that
had been thrown to them. The smoke of many fires curled upward, and
near the blaze hovered ruddy-faced women who stirred the contents of
steaming kettles. One man swung an axe with a vigorous sweep, and
the clean, sharp strokes rang on the air; another hammered stakes
into the ground on which to hang a kettle. Before a large cabin a
fur-trader was exhibiting his wares to three Indians. A second
redskin was carrying a pack of pelts from a canoe drawn up on the
river bank. A small group of persons stood near; some were
indifferent, and others gazed curiously at the savages. Two children
peeped from behind their mother's skirts as if half-curious,
half-frightened.

From this scene, the significance of which had just dawned on him,
Joe turned his eyes again to his companion. It was a sweet face he
saw; one that was sedate, but had a promise of innumerable smiles.
The blue eyes could not long hide flashes of merriment. The girl
turned, and the two young people looked at each other. Her eyes
softened with a woman's gentleness as they rested upon him, for,
broad of shoulder, and lithe and strong as a deer stalker, he was
good to look at.

"Listen," she said. "We have known each other only three weeks.
Since you joined our wagon-train, and have been so kind to me and so
helpful to make that long, rough ride endurable, you have won my
regard. I--I cannot say more, even if I would. You told me you ran
away from your Virginian home to seek adventure on the frontier, and
that you knew no one in all this wild country. You even said you
could not, or would not, work at farming. Perhaps my sister and I
are as unfitted as you for this life; but we must cling to our uncle
because he is the only relative we have. He has come out here to
join the Moravians, and to preach the gospel to these Indians. We
shall share his life, and help him all we can. You have been telling
me you--you cared for me, and now that we are about to part I--I
don't know what to say to you--unless it is: Give up this intention
of yours to seek adventure, and come with us. It seems to me you
need not hunt for excitement here; it will come unsought."

"I wish I were Jim," said he, suddenly.

"Who is Jim?"

"My brother."

"Tell me of him."

"There's nothing much to tell. He and I are all that are left of our
people, as are you and Kate of yours. Jim's a preacher, and the best
fellow--oh! I cared a lot for Jim."

"Then, why did you leave him?"

"I was tired of Williamsburg--I quarreled with a fellow, and hurt
him. Besides, I wanted to see the West; I'd like to hunt deer and
bear and fight Indians. Oh, I'm not much good."

"Was Jim the only one you cared for?" asked Nell, smiling. She was
surprised to find him grave.

"Yes, except my horse and dog, and I had to leave them behind,"
answered Joe, bowing his head a little.

"You'd like to be Jim because he's a preacher, and could help uncle
convert the Indians?"

"Yes, partly that, but mostly because--somehow--something you've
said or done has made me care for you in a different way, and I'd
like to be worthy of you."

"I don't think I can believe it, when you say you are 'no good,'"
she replied.

"Nell," he cried, and suddenly grasped her hand.

She wrenched herself free, and leaped away from him. Her face was
bright now, and the promise of smiles was made good.

"Behave yourself, sir." She tossed her head with a familiar backward
motion to throw the chestnut hair from her face, and looked at him
with eyes veiled slightly under their lashes. "You will go with Kate
and me?"

Before he could answer, a cry from some one on the plain below
attracted their attention. They turned and saw another wagon-train
pulling into the settlement. The children were shooting and running
alongside the weary oxen; men and women went forward expectantly.

"That must be the train uncle expected. Let us go down," said Nell.

Joe did not answer; but followed her down the path. When they gained
a clump of willows near the cabins he bent forward and took her
hand. She saw the reckless gleam in his eyes.

"Don't. They'll see," she whispered.

"If that's the only reason you have, I reckon I don't care," said
Joe.

"What do you mean? I didn't say--I didn't tell--oh! let me go!"
implored Nell.

She tried to release the hand Joe had grasped in his broad palm, but
in vain; the more she struggled the firmer was his hold. A frown
wrinkled her brow and her eyes sparkled with spirit. She saw the
fur-trader's wife looking out of the window, and remembered laughing
and telling the good woman she did not like this young man; it was,
perhaps, because she feared those sharp eyes that she resented his
audacity. She opened her mouth to rebuke him; but no words came. Joe
had bent his head and softly closed her lips with his own.

For the single instant during which Nell stood transfixed, as if
with surprise, and looking up at Joe, she was dumb. Usually the girl
was ready with sharp or saucy words and impulsive in her movements;
but now the bewilderment of being kissed, particularly within view
of the trader's wife, confused her. Then she heard voices, and as
Joe turned away with a smile on his face, the unusual warmth in her
heart was followed by an angry throbbing.

Joe's tall figure stood out distinctly as he leisurely strolled
toward the incoming wagon-train without looking backward. Flashing
after him a glance that boded wordy trouble in the future, she ran
into the cabin.

As she entered the door it seemed certain the grizzled frontiersman
sitting on the bench outside had grinned knowingly at her, and
winked as if to say he would keep her secret. Mrs. Wentz, the
fur-trader's wife, was seated by the open window which faced the
fort; she was a large woman, strong of feature, and with that calm
placidity of expression common to people who have lived long in
sparsely populated districts. Nell glanced furtively at her and
thought she detected the shadow of a smile in the gray eyes.

"I saw you and your sweetheart makin' love behind the willow," Mrs.
Wentz said in a matter-of-fact voice. "I don't see why you need hide
to do it. We folks out here like to see the young people sparkin'.
Your young man is a fine-appearin' chap. I felt certain you was
sweethearts, for all you allowed you'd known him only a few days.
Lize Davis said she saw he was sweet on you. I like his face. Jake,
my man, says as how he'll make a good husband for you, and he'll
take to the frontier like a duck does to water. I'm sorry you'll not
tarry here awhile. We don't see many lasses, especially any as
pretty as you, and you'll find it more quiet and lonesome the
farther West you get. Jake knows all about Fort Henry, and Jeff
Lynn, the hunter outside, he knows Eb and Jack Zane, and Wetzel, and
all those Fort Henry men. You'll be gettin' married out there, won't
you?"

"You are--quite wrong," said Nell, who all the while Mrs. Wentz was
speaking grew rosier and rosier. "We're not anything---"

Then Nell hesitated and finally ceased speaking. She saw that
denials or explanations were futile; the simple woman had seen the
kiss, and formed her own conclusions. During the few days Nell had
spent at Fort Pitt, she had come to understand that the dwellers on
the frontier took everything as a matter of course. She had seen
them manifest a certain pleasure; but neither surprise, concern, nor
any of the quick impulses so common among other people. And this was
another lesson Nell took to heart. She realized that she was
entering upon a life absolutely different from her former one, and
the thought caused her to shrink from the ordeal. Yet all the
suggestions regarding her future home; the stories told about
Indians, renegades, and of the wild border-life, fascinated her.
These people who had settled in this wild region were simple, honest
and brave; they accepted what came as facts not to be questioned,
and believed what looked true. Evidently the fur-trader's wife and
her female neighbors had settled in their minds the relation in
which the girl stood to Joe.

This latter reflection heightened Nell's resentment toward her
lover. She stood with her face turned away from Mrs. Wentz; the
little frown deepened, and she nervously tapped her foot on the
floor.

"Where is my sister?" she presently asked.

"She went to see the wagon-train come in. Everybody's out there."

Nell deliberated a moment and then went into the open air. She saw a
number of canvas-covered wagons drawn up in front of the cabins; the
vehicles were dusty and the wheels encrusted with yellow mud. The
grizzled frontiersman who had smiled at Nell stood leaning on his
gun, talking to three men, whose travel-stained and worn homespun
clothes suggested a long and toilsome journey. There was the bustle
of excitement incident to the arrival of strangers; to the quick
exchange of greetings, the unloading of wagons and unharnessing of
horses and oxen.

Nell looked here and there for her sister. Finally she saw her
standing near her uncle while he conversed with one of the
teamsters. The girl did not approach them; but glanced quickly
around in search of some one else. At length she saw Joe unloading
goods from one of the wagons; his back was turned toward her, but
she at once recognized the challenge conveyed by the broad
shoulders. She saw no other person; gave heed to nothing save what
was to her, righteous indignation.

Hearing her footsteps, the young man turned, glancing at her
admiringly, said:

"Good evening, Miss."

Nell had not expected such a matter-of-fact greeting from Joe. There
was not the slightest trace of repentance in his calm face, and he
placidly continued his labor.

"Aren't you sorry you--you treated me so?" burst out Nell.

His coolness was exasperating. Instead of the contrition and apology
she had expected, and which was her due, he evidently intended to
tease her, as he had done so often.

The young man dropped a blanket and stared.

"I don't understand," he said, gravely. "I never saw you before."

This was too much for quick-tempered Nell. She had had some vague
idea of forgiving him, after he had sued sufficiently for pardon;
but now, forgetting her good intentions in the belief that he was
making sport of her when he should have pleaded for forgiveness, she
swiftly raised her hand and slapped him smartly.

The red blood flamed to the young man's face; as he staggered
backward with his hand to his cheek, she heard a smothered
exclamation behind her, and then the quick, joyous barking of a dog.

When Nell turned she was amazed to see Joe standing beside the
wagon, while a big white dog was leaping upon him. Suddenly she felt
faint. Bewildered, she looked from Joe to the man she had just
struck; but could not say which was the man who professed to love
her.

"Jim! So you followed me!" cried Joe, starting forward and flinging
his arms around the other.

"Yes, Joe, and right glad I am to find you," answered the young man,
while a peculiar expression of pleasure came over his face.

"It's good to see you again! And here's my old dog Mose! But how on
earth did you know? Where did you strike my trail? What are you
going to do out here on the frontier? Tell me all. What happened
after I left---"

Then Joe saw Nell standing nearby, pale and distressed, and he felt
something was amiss. He glanced quickly from her to his brother; she
seemed to be dazed, and Jim looked grave.

"What the deuce--? Nell, this is my brother Jim, the one I told you
about. Jim, this is my friend, Miss Wells."

"I am happy to meet Miss Wells," said Jim, with a smile, "even
though she did slap my face for nothing."

"Slapped you? What for?" Then the truth dawned on Joe, and he
laughed until the tears came into his eyes. "She took you for me!
Ha, ha, ha! Oh, this is great!"

Nell's face was now rosy red and moisture glistened in her eyes; but
she tried bravely to stand her ground. Humiliation had taken the
place of anger.

"I--I--am sorry, Mr. Downs. I did take you for him. He--he has
insulted me." Then she turned and ran into the cabin.



Chapter II.

Joe and Jim were singularly alike. They were nearly the same size,
very tall, but so heavily built as to appear of medium height, while
their grey eyes and, indeed, every feature of their clean-cut faces
corresponded so exactly as to proclaim them brothers.

"Already up to your old tricks?" asked Jim, with his hand on Joe's
shoulder, as they both watched Nell's flight.

"I'm really fond of her, Jim, and didn't mean to hurt her feelings.
But tell me about yourself; what made you come West?"

"To teach the Indians, and I was, no doubt, strongly influenced by
your being here."

"You're going to do as you ever have--make some sacrifice. You are
always devoting yourself; if not to me, to some other. Now it's your
life you're giving up. To try to convert the redskins and influence
me for good is in both cases impossible. How often have I said there
wasn't any good in me! My desire is to kill Indians, not preach to
them, Jim. I'm glad to see you; but I wish you hadn't come. This
wild frontier is no place for a preacher."

"I think it is," said Jim, quietly.

"What of Rose--the girl you were to marry?"

Joe glanced quickly at his brother. Jim's face paled slightly as he
turned away.

"I'll speak once more of her, and then, never again," he answered.
"You knew Rose better than I did. Once you tried to tell me she was
too fond of admiration, and I rebuked you; but now I see that your
wider experience of women had taught you things I could not then
understand. She was untrue. When you left Williamsburg, apparently
because you had gambled with Jewett and afterward fought him, I was
not misled. You made the game of cards a pretense; you sought it
simply as an opportunity to wreak your vengeance on him for his
villainy toward me. Well, it's all over now. Though you cruelly beat
and left him disfigured for life, he will live, and you are saved
from murder, thank God! When I learned of your departure I yearned
to follow. Then I met a preacher who spoke of having intended to go
West with a Mr. Wells, of the Moravian Mission. I immediately said I
would go in his place, and here I am. I'm fortunate in that I have
found both him and you."

"I'm sorry I didn't kill Jewett; I certainly meant to. Anyway,
there's some comfort in knowing I left my mark on him. He was a
sneaking, cold-blooded fellow, with his white hair and pale face,
and always fawning round the girls. I hated him, and gave it to him
good." Joe spoke musingly and complacently as though it was a
trivial thing to compass the killing of a man.

"Well, Jim, you're here now, and there's no help for it. We'll go
along with this Moravian preacher and his nieces. If you haven't any
great regrets for 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.