The Spirit of the Border and the Last Trail Read Free Page A

Jim. I’m glad to see you; but I wish you hadn’t come. This wild frontier is no place for a preacher.”
    â€œI think it is,” said Jim, quietly.
    â€œWhat of Rose—the girl you were to marry?”
    Joe glanced quickly at his brother. Jim’s face paled slightly as he turned away.
    â€œI’ll speak once more of her, and then, never again,” he answered. “You knew Rose better than I did. Once you tried to tell me she was too fond of admiration, and I rebuked you; but now I see that your wider experience of women had taught you things I could not then understand. She was untrue. When you left Williamsburg, apparently because you had gambled with Jewett and afterward fought him, I was not misled. You made the game of cards a pretense; you sought it simply as an opportunity to wreak your vengeance on him for his villainy toward me. Well, it’s all over now. Though you cruelly beat and left him disfigured for life, he will live, and you are saved from murder, thank God! When I learned of your departure I yearned to follow. Then I met a preacher who spoke of having intended to go West with a Mr. Wells, of the Moravian Mission. I immediately said I would go in his place, and here I am. I’m fortunate in that I have found both him and you.”
    â€œI’m sorry I didn’t kill Jewett; I certainly meant to. Anyway, there’s some comfort in knowing I left my mark on him. He was a sneaking, cold-blooded fellow, with his white hair and pale face, and always fawning round the girls. I hated him, and gave it to him good.” Joe spoke musingly and complacently as though it was a trivial thing to compass the killing of a man.
    â€œWell, Jim, you’re here now, and there’s no help for it. We’ll go along with this Moravian preacher and his nieces. If you haven’t any great regrets for the past, why, all may be well yet. I can see that the border is the place for me. But now, Jim, for once in your life take a word of advice from me. We’re out in the frontier, where every man looks after himself. Your being a minister won’t protect you here where every man wears a knife and a tomahawk, and where most of them are desperadoes. Cut out that soft voice and most of your gentle ways, and be a little more like your brother. Be as kind as you like, and preach all you want to; but when some of these buckskin-legged frontiersmen try to walk all over you, as they will, take your own part in a way you have never taken it before. I had my lesson the first few days out with that wagon train. It was a case of four fights; but I’m all right now.”
    â€œJoe, I won’t run, if that’s what you mean,” answered Jim, with a laugh. “Yes, I understand that a new life begins here, and I am content. If I can find my work in it, and remain with you, I shall be happy.”
    â€œAh! old Mose! I’m glad to see you,” Joe cried to the big dog who came nosing round him. “You’ve brought this old fellow; did you bring the horses?”
    â€œLook behind the wagon.”
    With the dog bounding before him, Joe did as he was directed, and there found two horses tethered side by side. Little wonder that his eyes gleamed with delight. One was jet-black; the other iron-gray; and in every line the clean-limbed animals showed the thoroughbred. The black threw up his slim head and whinnied, with affection clearly shining in his soft, dark eyes as he recognized his master.
    â€œLance, old fellow, how did I ever leave you?” murmured Joe, as he threw his arm over the arched neck. Mose stood by looking up, and wagging his tail in token of happiness at the reunion of the three old friends. There were tears in Joe’s eyes when, with a last affectionate caress, he turned away from his pet.
    â€œCome, Jim, I’ll take you to Mr. Wells.”
    They started across the little square, while Mose went back under the wagon; but at a word from