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

Joe he bounded after them, trotting contentedly at their heels. Halfway to the cabins a big, raw-boned teamster, singing in a drunken voice, came staggering toward them. Evidently he had just left the group of people who had gathered near the Indians.
    â€œI didn’t expect to see drunkenness out here,” said Jim, in a low tone.
    â€œThere’s lots of it. I saw that fellow yesterday when he couldn’t walk. Wentz told me he was a bad customer.”
    The teamster, his red face bathed in perspiration, and his sleeves rolled up, showing brown, knotty arms, lurched toward them. As they met he aimed a kick at the dog; but Mose leaped nimbly aside, avoiding the heavy boot. He did not growl, nor show his teeth; but the great white head sank forward a little, and the lithe body crouched for a spring.
    â€œDon’t touch that dog; he’ll tear your leg off!” Joe cried sharply.
    â€œSay, pard, cum an’ hev a drink,” replied the teamster, with a friendly leer.
    â€œI don’t drink,” answered Joe, curtly, and moved on.
    The teamster growled something of which only the word “parson” was intelligible to the brothers. Joe stopped and looked back. His gray eyes seemed to contract; they did not flash, but shaded and lost their warmth. Jim saw the change, and knowing what it signified, took Joe’s arm as he gently urged him away. The teamster’s shrill voice could be heard until they entered the fur trader’s cabin.
    An old man with long, white hair flowing from beneath his wide-brimmed hat, sat near the door holding one of Mrs. Wentz’s children on his knee. His face was deep-lined and serious; but kindness shone from his mild blue eyes.
    â€œMr. Wells, this is my brother James. He is a preacher, and has come in place of the man you expected from Williamsburg.”
    The old minister arose, and extended his hand, gazing earnestly at the newcomer meanwhile. Evidently he approved of what he saw in his quick scrutiny of the other’s face, for his lips were wreathed with a smile of welcome.
    â€œMr. Downs, I am glad to meet you, and to know you will go with me. I thank God I shall take into the wilderness one who is young enough to carry on the work when my days are done.”
    â€œI will make it my duty to help you in whatsoever way lies in my power,” answered Jim, earnestly.
    â€œWe have a great work before us. I have heard many scoffers who claim that it is worse than folly to try to teach these fierce savages Christianity; but I know it can be done, and my heart is in the work. I have no fear; yet I would not conceal from you, young man, that the danger of going among these hostile Indians must be great.”
    â€œI will not hesitate because of that. My sympathy is with the redman. I have had an opportunity of studying Indian nature and believe the race inherently noble. He has been driven to make war, and I want to help him into other paths.”
    Joe left the two ministers talking earnestly and turned toward Mrs. Wentz. The fur trader’s wife was glowing with pleasure. She held in her hand several rude trinkets, and was explaining to her listener, a young woman, that the toys were for the children, having been brought all the way from Williamsburg.
    â€œKate, where’s Nell?” Joe asked of the girl.
    â€œShe went on an errand for Mrs. Wentz.”
    Kate Wells was the opposite of her sister. Her motions were slow, easy, and consistent with her large, full form. Her brown eyes and hair contrasted sharply with Nell’s. The greatest difference in the sisters lay in that Nell’s face was sparkling and full of the fire of her eager young life, while Kate’s was calm, like the unruffled surface of a deep lake.
    â€œThat’s Jim, my brother. We’re going with you,” said Joe.
    â€œAre you? I’m glad,” answered the girl, looking at the handsome, earnest face of the young minister.
    â€œYour