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Grey, Zane, 1872-1939

"The Spirit of the Border"


Beyond the circle the Indians were massed together, even beyond the
limits of the glade. Under the trees on every side sat warriors
astride their steeds; some lounged on the green turf; many reclined
in the branches of low-spreading maples.
As Jim looked out over the sea of faces he started in surprise. The
sudden glance of fiery eyes had impelled his gaze. He recognized
Silvertip, the Shawnee chief. The Indian sat motionless on a
powerful black horse. Jim started again, for the horse was Joe's
thoroughbred, Lance. But Jim had no further time to think of Joe's
enemy, for Heckewelder stepped back.
Jim took the vacated seat, and, with a far-reaching, resonant voice
began his discourse to the Indians.
"Chieftains, warriors, maidens, children of the forest, listen, and
your ears shall hear no lie. I am come from where the sun rises to
tell you of the Great Spirit of the white man.
"Many, many moons ago, as many as blades of grass grow on yonder
plain, the Great Spirit of whom I shall speak created the world. He
made the sparkling lakes and swift rivers, the boundless plains and
tangled forests, over which He caused the sun to shine and the rain
to fall. He gave life to the kingly elk, the graceful deer, the
rolling bison, the bear, the fox--all the beasts and birds and
fishes.


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