Zane Grey by The Spirit of the Border Read Free Book Online Page B

brought
the party to a halt.
    The Indians selected a sheltered spot under the lee of a knoll, at
the base of which ran a little brook. Here in this inclosed space
were the remains of a camp-fire. Evidently the Indians had halted
there that same day, for the logs still smouldered. While one brave
fanned the embers, another took from a neighboring branch a haunch
of deer meat. A blaze was soon coaxed from the dull coals, more fuel
was added, and presently a cheerful fire shone on the circle of
dusky forms.
    It was a picture which Joe had seen in many a boyish dream; now that
he was a part of it he did not dwell on the hopelessness of the
situation, nor of the hostile chief whose enmity he had incurred.
Almost, it seemed, he was glad of this chance to watch the Indians
and listen to them. He had been kept apart from Jim, and it appeared
to Joe that their captors treated his brother with a contempt which
they did not show him. Silvertip had, no doubt, informed them that
Jim had been on his way to teach the Indians of the white man's God.
    Jim sat with drooping head; his face was sad, and evidently he took
the most disheartening view of his capture. When he had eaten the
slice of venison given him he lay down with his back to the fire.
    Silvertip, in these surroundings, showed his real character. He had
appeared friendly in the settlement; but now he was the relentless
savage, a son of the wilds, free as an eagle. His dignity as a chief
kept him aloof from his braves. He had taken no notice of the
prisoners since the capture. He remained silent, steadily regarding
the fire with his somber eyes. At length, glancing at the big
Indian, he motioned toward the prisoners and with a single word
stretched himself on the leaves.
    Joe noted the same changelessness of expression in the other dark
faces as he had seen in Silvertip's. It struck him forcibly. When
they spoke in their soft, guttural tones, or burst into a low, not
unmusical laughter, or sat gazing stolidly into the fire, their
faces seemed always the same, inscrutable, like the depths of the
forest now hidden in night. One thing Joe felt rather than
saw—these savages were fierce and untamable. He was sorry for Jim,
because, as he believed, it would be as easy to teach the panther
gentleness toward his prey as to instill into one of these wild
creatures a belief in Christ.
    The braves manifested keen pleasure in anticipation as to what they
would get out of the pack, which the Indian now opened. Time and
again the big brave placed his broad hand on the shoulder of a
comrade Indian and pushed him backward.
    Finally the pack was opened. It contained a few articles of wearing
apparel, a pair of boots, and a pipe and pouch of tobacco. The big
Indian kept the latter articles, grunting with satisfaction, and
threw the boots and clothes to the others. Immediately there was a
scramble. One brave, after a struggle with another, got possession
of both boots. He at once slipped off his moccasins and drew on the
white man's foot-coverings. He strutted around in them a few
moments, but his proud manner soon changed to disgust.
    Cowhide had none of the soft, yielding qualities of buckskin, and
hurt the Indian's feet. Sitting down, he pulled one off, not without
difficulty, for the boots were wet; but he could not remove the
other. He hesitated a moment, being aware of the subdued merriment
of his comrades, and then held up his foot to the nearest one. This
chanced to be the big Indian, who evidently had a keen sense of
humor. Taking hold of the boot with both hands, he dragged the
luckless brave entirely around the camp-fire. The fun, however, was
not to be all one-sided. The big Indian gave a more strenuous pull,
and the boot came off suddenly. Unprepared for this, he lost his
balance and fell down the bank almost into the creek. He held on to
the boot, nevertheless, and getting up, threw it into the fire.
    The braves quieted down after that, and soon lapsed into slumber,
leaving the big