



This etext was prepared by Bruce Metcalf of Chattanooga, TN.





THE SPIRIT OF THE BORDER
A ROMANCE OF THE EARLY SETTLERS IN THE OHIO VALLEY

BY ZANE GREY

1906



To my brother

With many fond recollections of days spent in the solitude of the
forests where only can be satisfied that wild fever of freedom of
which this book tells; where to hear the whirr of a wild duck in his
rapid flight is joy; where the quiet of an autumn afternoon swells
the heart, and where one may watch the fragrant wood-smoke curl from
the campfire, and see the stars peep over dark, wooded hills as
twilight deepens, and know a happiness that dwells in the wilderness
alone.



Introduction

The author does not intend to apologize for what many readers may
call the "brutality" of the story; but rather to explain that its
wild spirit is true to the life of the Western border as it was
known only a little more than one hundred years ago.

The writer is the fortunate possessor of historical material of
undoubted truth and interest. It is the long-lost journal of Colonel
Ebenezer Zane, one of the most prominent of the hunter-pioneer, who
labored in the settlement of the Western country.

The story of that tragic period deserves a higher place in
historical literature than it has thus far been given, and this
unquestionably because of a lack of authentic data regarding the
conquering of the wilderness. Considering how many years the
pioneers struggled on the border of this country, the history of
their efforts is meager and obscure.

If the years at the close of the eighteenth and the beginning of the
nineteenth century were full of stirring adventure on the part of
the colonists along the Atlantic coast, how crowded must they have
been for the almost forgotten pioneers who daringly invaded the
trackless wilds! None there was to chronicle the fight of these
sturdy, travelers toward the setting sun. The story of their stormy
lives, of their heroism, and of their sacrifice for the benefit of
future generations is too little known.

It is to a better understanding of those days that the author has
labored to draw from his ancestor's notes a new and striking
portrayal of the frontier; one which shall paint the fever of
freedom, that powerful impulse which lured so many to unmarked
graves; one which shall show his work, his love, the effect of the
causes which rendered his life so hard, and surely one which does
not forget the wronged Indian.

The frontier in 1777 produced white men so savage as to be men in
name only. These outcasts and renegades lived among the savages, and
during thirty years harassed the border, perpetrating all manner of
fiendish cruelties upon the settlers. They were no less cruel to the
redmen whom they ruled, and at the height of their bloody careers
made futile the Moravian missionaries' long labors, and destroyed
the beautiful hamlet of the Christian Indians, called Gnaddenhutten,
or Village of Peace.

And while the border produced such outlaws so did it produce hunters
Eke Boone, the Zanes, the McCollochs, and Wetzel, that strange,
silent man whose deeds are still whispered in the country where he
once roamed in his insatiate pursuit of savages and renegades, and
who was purely a product of the times. Civilization could not have
brought forth a man like Wetzel. Great revolutions, great crises,
great moments come, and produce the men to deal with them.

The border needed Wetzel. The settlers would have needed many more
years in which to make permanent homes had it not been for him. He
was never a pioneer; but always a hunter after Indians. When not on
the track of the savage foe, he was in the settlement, with his keen
eye and ear ever alert for signs of the enemy. To the superstitious
Indians he was a shadow; a spirit of the border, which breathed
menace from the dark forests. To the settlers he was the right arm
of defense, a fitting leader for those few implacable and unerring
frontiersmen who made the settlement of the West a possibility.

And if this story of one of his relentless pursuits shows the man as
he truly was, loved by pioneers, respected and feared by redmen, and
hated by renegades; if it softens a little the ruthless name history
accords him, the writer will have been well repaid.

Z. G.



The Spirit of the Border



Chapter I.

"Nell, I'm growing powerful fond of you."

"So you must be, Master Joe, if often telling makes it true."

The girl spoke simply, and with an absence of that roguishness which
was characteristic of her. Playful words, arch smiles, and a touch
of coquetry had seemed natural to Nell; but now her grave tone and
her almost wistful glance disconcerted Joe.

During all the long journey over the mountains she had been gay and
bright, while now, when they were about to part, perhaps never to
meet again, she showed him the deeper and more earnest side of her
character. It checked his boldness as nothing else had done.
Suddenly there came to him the real meaning of a woman's love when
she bestows it without reservation. Silenced by the thought that he
had not understood her at all, and the knowledge