"Grey, Zane - Betty Zane" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grey Zane)

Jonathan and Silas Zane, early in the day, had taken different directions
along the river to keep a sharp lookout for signs of the enemy. Colonel Zane
intended to stay in his oven house and defend it, so he had not moved anything
to the fort excepting his horses and cattle. Old Sam, the negro, was hauling
loads of hay inside the stockade. Captain Boggs had detailed several scouts to
watch the roads and one of these was the young man, Clarke, who had
accompanied the Major from Fort Pitt.

The appearance of Alfred Clarke, despite the fact that he wore the regulation
hunting garb, indicated a young man to whom the hard work and privation of the
settler were unaccustomed things. So thought the pioneers who noticed his
graceful walk, his fair skin and smooth hands. Yet those who carefully studied
his clearcut features were favorably impressed; the women, by the direct,
honest gaze of his blue eyes and the absence of ungentle lines in his face;
the men, by the good nature, and that indefinable something by which a man
marks another as true steel.

He brought nothing with him from Fort Pitt except his horse, a black-coated,
fine limbed thoroughbred, which he frankly confessed was all he could call his
own. When asking Colonel Zane to give him a position in the garrison he said
he was a Virginian and had been educated in Philadelphia; that after his
father died his mother married again, and this, together with a natural love
of adventure, had induced him to run away and seek his fortune with the hardy
pioneer and the cunning savage of the border. Beyond a few months' service
under General Clark he knew nothing of frontier life; but he was tired of
idleness; he was strong and not afraid of work, and he could learn. Colonel
Zane, who prided himself on his judgment of character, took a liking to the
young man at once, and giving him a rifle and accoutrements, told him the
border needed young men of pluck and fire, and that if he brought a strong
hand and a willing heart he could surely find fortune. Possibly if Alfred
Clarke could have been told of the fate in store for him he might have mounted
his black steed and have placed miles between him and the frontier village;
but, as there were none to tell, he went cheerfully out to meet that fate.

On this is bright spring morning he patrolled the road leading along the edge
of the clearing, which was distant a quarter of a mile from the fort. He kept
a keen eye on the opposite side of the river, as he had been directed. From
the upper end of the island, almost straight across from where he stood, the
river took a broad turn, which could not be observed from the fort windows.
The river was high from the recent rains and brush heaps and logs and debris
of all descriptions were floating down with the swift current. Rabbits and
other small animals, which had probably been surrounded on some island and
compelled to take to the brush or drown, crouched on floating logs and piles
of driftwood. Happening to glance down the road, Clarke saw a horse galloping
in his direction At first he thought it was a messenger for himself, but as it
neared him he saw that the horse was an Indian pony and the rider a young
girl, whose long, black hair was flying in the wind.

"Hello! I wonder what the deuce this is? Looks like an Indian girl," said
Clarke to himself. "She rides well, whoever she may be."