“Never, traitor! Monster! I’d be burned at the stake before I’d go a step with you!” cried Betty.
“Then remember that you’ve crossed a desperate man. If you escape the massacre you will beg on your knees to me. This settlement is doomed. Now, go to your white-faced lover. You’ll find him cold. Ha! Ha! Ha!” and with a taunting laugh he leaped the fence and disappeared in the gloom.
Betty sank to the floor stunned, horrified. She shuddered at the malignity expressed in Miller’s words. How had she ever been deceived in him? He was in league with Girty. At heart he was a savage, a renegade. Betty went over his words, one by one.
“Your white-faced lover. You will find him cold,” whispered Betty. “What did he mean?”
Then came the thought. Miller had murdered Clarke. Betty gave one agonized quiver, as if a knife had been thrust into her side, and then her paralyzed limbs recovered the power of action. She flew out into the passageway and pounded on her brother’s door.
“Eb! Eb! Get up! Quickly, for God’s sake!” she cried. A smothered exclamation, a woman’s quick voice, the heavy thud of feet striking the floor followed Betty’s alarm. Then the door opened.
“Hello, Betts, what’s up?” said Col. Zane, in his rapid voice.
At the same moment the door at the end of the hall opened and Isaac came out.
“Eb, Betty, I heard voices outdoors and in the house. What’s the row?”
“Oh, Isaac! Oh, Eb! Something terrible has happened!” cried Betty, breathlessly.
“Then it is no time to get excited,” said the Colonel, calmly. He placed his arm round Betty and drew her into the room. “Isaac, get down the rifles. Now, Betty, time is precious. Tell me quickly, briefly.”
“I was awakened by a stone rolling on the floor. I ran to the window and saw a man by the fence. He came under my window and I saw it was Miller. He said he was going to join Girty. He said if I would go with him he would save the lives of all my relatives. If I would not they would all be killed, massacred, burned alive, and I would be taken away as his captive. I told him I’d rather die before I’d go with him. Then he said we were all doomed, and that my white-faced lover was already cold. With that he gave a laugh which made my flesh creep and ran on toward the river. Oh! he has murdered Mr. Clarke.”
“Hell! What a fiend!” cried Col. Zane, hurriedly getting into his clothes. “Betts, you had a gun in there. Why didn’t you shoot him? Why didn’t I pay more attention to Wetzel’s advice?”
“You should have allowed Clarke to kill him yesterday,” said Isaac. “Like as not he’ll have Girty here with a lot of howling devils. What’s to be done?”
“I’ll send Wetzel after him and that’ll soon wind up his ball of yarn,” answered Col. Zane.
“Please—go—and find—if Mr. Clarke—”
“Yes, Betty, I’ll go at once. You must not lose courage, Betty. It’s quite probable that Miller has killed Alfred and that there’s worse to follow.”
“I’ll come, Eb, as soon as I have told Myeerah. She is scared half to death,” said Isaac, starting for the door.
“All right, only hurry,” said Col. Zane, grabbing his rifle. Without wasting more words, and lacing up his hunting shirt as he went he ran out of the room.
The first rays of dawn came streaking in at the window. The chill gray light brought no cheer with its herald of the birth of another day. For what might the morning sun disclose? It might shine on a long line of painted Indians. The fresh breeze from over the river might bring the long war whoop of the savage.
No wonder Noah and his brother, awakened by the voice of their father, sat up in their little bed and looked about with frightened eyes. No wonder Mrs. Zane’s face blanched. How many times she had seen her husband grasp his rifle and run out to meet danger!
“Bessie,” said Betty. “If it’s true I will not be able to bear it. It’s all my fault.”
“Nonsense! You heard Eb say Miller and Clarke had quarreled before. They hated each other before they ever saw you.”
A door banged, quick footsteps sounded on the stairs, and Isaac came rushing into the room. Betty, deathly pale, stood with her hands pressed to her bosom, and looked at Isaac with a question in her eyes that her tongue could not speak.
“Betty, Alfred’s badly hurt, but he’s alive. I can tell you no more now,” said Isaac. “Bessie, bring your needle, silk linen, liniment—everything you need for a bad knife wound, and come quickly.”
Betty’s haggard face changed as if some warm light had been reflected on it; her lips moved, and with a sob of thankfulness she fled to her room.
Two hours later, while Annie was serving breakfast to Betty and Myeerah, Col. Zane strode into the room.
“Well, one has to eat whatever happens,” he said, his clouded face brightening somewhat. “Betty, there’s been bad work, bad work. When I got to Clarke’s room I found him lying on the bed with a knife sticking in him. As it is we are doubtful about pulling him through.”
“May I see him?” whispered Betty, with pale lips.
“If the worst comes to the worst I’ll take you over. But it would do no good now and would surely unnerve you. He still has a fighting chance.”
“Did they fight, or was Mr. Clarke stabbed in his sleep?”
“Miller climbed into Clarke’s window and knifed him in the dark. As I came over I met Wetzel and told him I wanted him to trail Miller and find if there is any truth in his threat about Girty and the Indians. Sam just now found Tige tied fast in the fence corner back of the barn. That explains the
