The Spirit of the Border
Zane turned and cut the young missionary's bonds. Jim ran to where Nell was lying on
the ground, and tenderly raised her head, calling to her that they were saved. Zane bathed
the girl's pale face. Presently she sighed and opened her eyes.
Then Zane looked from the statuelike form of Wingenund to the motionless figure of
Wetzel. The chief stood erect with his eyes on the distant hills. Wetzel remained with
folded arms, his cold eyes fixed upon the writhing, moaning renegade.
"Lew, look here," said Zane, unhesitatingly, and pointed toward the chief.
Wetzel quivered as if sharply stung; the cold glitter in hie eyes changed to lurid fire. With
upraised tomahawk he bounded across the brook.
"Lew, wait a minute!" yelled Zane.
"Wetzel! wait, wait!" cried Jim, grasping the hunter's arm; but the latter flung him off, as
the wind tosses a straw.
"Wetzel, wait, for God's sake, wait!" screamed Nell. She had risen at Zane's call, and now
saw the deadly resolve in the hunter's eyes. Fearlessly she flung herself in front of him;
bravely she risked her life before his mad rush; frantically she threw her arms around him
and clung to his hands desperately.
Wetzel halted; frenzied as he was at the sight of his foe, he could not hurt a woman.
"Girl, let go!" he panted, and his broad breast heaved.
"No, no, no! Listen, Wetzel, you must not kill the chief. He is a friend."
"He is my great foe!"
"Listen, oh! please listen!" pleaded Nell. "He warned me to flee from Girty; he offered to
guide us to Fort Henry. He has saved my life. For my sake, Wetzel, do not kill him! Don't
let me be the cause of his murder! Wetzel, Wetzel, lower your arm, drop your hatchet.
For pity's sake do not spill more blood. Wingenund is a Christian!"
Wetzel stepped back breathing heavily. His white face resembled chiseled marble. With
those little hands at his breast he hesitated in front of the chief he had hunted for so many
"Would you kill a Christian?" pleaded Nell, her voice sweet and earnest.