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Grey, Zane, 1872-1939

"The Spirit of the Border"

I've carried her these ten miles."
"God bless you, Wetzel!" exclaimed the old missionary. "Nellie,
Nellie, can you speak?"
"Uncle dear--I'm--all right," came the faint answer.
"Kate? What--of her?" whispered George Young with lips as dry as
corn husks.
"I did my best," said the hunter with a simple dignity. Nothing but
the agonized appeal in the young man's eyes could have made Wetzel
speak of his achievement.
"Tell us," broke in Heckewelder, seeing that fear had stricken
George dumb.
"We trailed 'em an' got away with the golden-haired lass. The last I
saw of Joe he was braced up agin a rock fightin' like a wildcat. I
tried to cut Jim loose as I was goin' by. I s'pect the wust fer the
brothers an' the other lass."
"Can we do nothing?" asked Mr. Wells.
"Nothin'!"
"Wetzel, has the capturing of James Downs any significance to you?"
inquired Heckewelder.
"I reckon so."
"What?"
"Pipe an' his white-redskin allies are agin Christianity."
"Do you think we are in danger?"
"I reckon so."
"What do you advise?"
"Pack up a few of your traps, take the lass, an' come with me. I'll
see you back in Fort Henry."
Heckewelder nervously walked up to the tree and back again. Young
and Edwards looked blankly at one another. They both remembered
Edward's presentiment.


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