Chapter XX.
Early on the following day Heckewelder, astride his horse, appearedat the door of Edwards' cabin.
"How is George?" he inquired of Dave, when the latter had opened thedoor.
"He had a bad night, but is sleeping now. I think he'll be all rightafter a time," answered Dave.
"That's well. Nevertheless keep a watch on him for a few days."
"I'll do so."
"Dave, I leave matters here to your good judgment. I'm off toGoshocking to join Zeisberger. Affairs there demand our immediateattention, and we must make haste."
"How long do you intend to be absent?"
"A few days; possibly a week. In case of any unusual disturbanceamong the Indians, the appearance of Pipe and his tribe, or any ofthe opposing factions, send a fleet runner at once to warn me. Mostof my fears have been allayed by Wingenund's attitude toward us. Hisfreeing Jim in face of the opposition of his chiefs is a sure signof friendliness. More than once I have suspected that he wasinterested in Christianity. His daughter, Whispering Winds,exhibited the same intense fervor in religion as has been manifestedby all our converts. It may be that we have not appealed in vain toWingenund and his daughter; but their high position in the Delawaretribe makes it impolitic for them to reveal a change of heart. If wecould win over those two we'd have every chance to convert the wholetribe. Well, as it is we must be thankful for Wingenund'sfriendship. We have two powerful allies now. Tarhe, the Wyandotchieftain, remains neutral, to be sure, but that's almost as helpfulas his friendship."
"I, too, take a hopeful view of the situation," replied Edwards.
"We'll trust in Providence, and do our best," said Heckewelder, ashe turned his horse. "Good-by."
"Godspeed!" called Edwards, as his chief rode away.
The missionary resumed his work of getting breakfast. He remained indoors all that day, except for the few moments when he ran over toMr. Wells' cabin to inquire regarding Nell's condition. He wasrelieved to learn she was so much better that she had declared herintention of moving about the house. Dave kept a close watch onYoung. He, himself, was suffering from the same blow which hadprostrated his friend, but his physical strength and fortitude weresuch that he did not weaken. He was overjoyed to see that Georgerallied, and showed no further indications of breaking down.
True it was, perhaps, that Heckewelder's earnest prayer on behalf ofthe converted Indians had sunk deeply into George's heart and thuskept it from breaking. No stronger plea could have been made thanthe allusion to those gentle, dependent Christians. No one but amissionary could realize the sweetness, the simplicity, the faith,the eager hope for a good, true life which had been implanted in thehearts of these Indians. To bear it in mind, to think of what he, asa missionary and teacher, was to them, relieved him of half hisburden, and for strength to bear the remainder he went to God. Forall worry there is a sovereign cure, for all suffering there is ahealing balm; it is religious faith. Happiness had suddenly flashedwith a meteor-like radiance into Young's life only to be snuffed outlike a candle in a windy gloom, but his work, his duty remained. Soin his trial he learned the necessity of resignation. He chaffed nomore at the mysterious, seemingly brutal methods of nature; hequestioned no more. He wondered no more at the apparent indifferenceof Providence. He had one hope, which was to be true to his faith,and teach it to the end.
Nell mastered her grief by an astonishing reserve of strength.Undoubtedly it was that marvelously merciful power which enables aperson, for the love of others, to bear up under a cross, or even tofight death himself. As Young had his bright-eyed Indian boys andgirls, who had learned Christianity from him, and whose futuredepended on him, so Nell had her aged and weakening uncle to carefor and cherish.
Jim's attentions to her before the deep affliction had not beenslight, but now they were so marked as to be unmistakable. In someway Jim seemed changed since he had returned from the Delawareencampment. Although he went back to the work with his oldaggressiveness, he was not nearly so successful as he had beenbefore. Whether or not this was his fault, he took his failuredeeply to heart. There was that in his tenderness which caused Nellto regard him, in one sense, as she did her uncle. Jim, too, leanedupon her, and she accepted his devotion where once she had repelledit. She had unconsciously betrayed a great deal when she had turnedso tenderly to him in the first moments after her recognition, andhe remembered it. He did not speak of love to her; he let a thousandlittle acts of kindness, a constant thoughtfulness of her plead hiscause.
The days succeeding Heckewelder's departure were remarkable forseveral reasons. Although the weather was enticing, the number ofvisiting Indians gradually decreased. Not a runner from any tribecame into the village, and finally the day dawned when not a singleIndian from the outlying towns was present to hear the preaching.
Jim spoke, as usual. After several days had passed and none butconverted Indians made up the congregation, the young man began tobe uneasy in mind.
Young and Edwards were unable to account for the unusual absencefrom worship, yet they did not see in it anything to cause especialconcern. Often there had been days without visitation to the Villageof Peace.
Finally Jim went to consult Glickhican. He found the Delaware atwork in the potato patch. The old Indian dropped his hoe and bowedto the missionary. A reverential and stately courtesy alwayscharacterized the attitude of the Indians toward the young whitefather.
"Glickhican, can you tell me why no Indians have come here lately?"
The old chief shook his head.
"Does their absence signify ill to the Village of Peace?"
"Glickhican saw a blackbird flitting in the shadow of the moon. Thebird hovered above the Village of Peace, but sang no song."
The old Delaware vouchsafed no other than this strange reply.
Jim returned to his cabin decidedly worried. He did not at all likeGlickhican's answer. The purport of it seemed to be that a cloud wasrising on the bright horizon of the Christian village. He confidedhis fears to Young and Edwards. After discussing the situation, thethree missionaries decided to send for Heckewelder. He was theleader of the Mission; he knew more of Indian craft than any ofthem, and how to meet it. If this calm in the heretofore busy lifeof the Mission was the lull before a storm, Heckewelder should bethere with his experience and influence.
"For nearly ten years Heckewelder has anticipated trouble fromhostile savages," said Edwards, "but so far he has always avertedit. As you know, he has confined himself mostly to propitiating theIndians, and persuading them to be friendly, and listen to us. We'llsend for him."
Accordingly they dispatched a runner to Goshocking. In due time theIndian returned with the startling news that Heckewelder had leftthe Indian village days before, as had, in fact, all the savagesexcept the few converted ones. The same held true in the case ofSandusky, the adjoining town. Moreover, it had been impossible toobtain any news in regard to Zeisberger.
The missionaries were now thoroughly alarmed, and knew not what todo. They concealed the real state of affairs from Nell and heruncle, desiring to keep them from anxiety as long as possible. Thatnight the three teachers went to bed with heavy hearts.
The following morning at daybreak, Jim was awakened from a soundsleep by some one calling at his window. He got up to learn who itwas, and, in the gray light, saw Edwards standing outside.
"What's the matter?" questioned Jim, hurriedly.
"Matter enough. Hurry. Get into your clothes," replied Edwards. "Assoon as you are dressed, quietly awaken Mr. Wells and Nellie, but donot frighten them."
"But what's the trouble?" queried Jim, as he began to dress.
"The Indians are pouring into the village as thickly as flyingleaves in autumn."
Edwards' exaggerated assertion proved to be almost literally true.No sooner had the rising sun dispelled the mist, than it shone onlong lines of marching braves, mounted warriors, hundreds ofpackhorses approaching from the forests. The orderly procession wasproof of a concerted plan on the part
of the invaders.
From their windows the missionaries watched with bated breath; withwonder and fear they saw the long lines of dusky forms. When theywere in the clearing the savages busied themselves with their packs.Long rows of teepees sprung up as if by magic. The savages had cometo stay! The number of incoming visitors did not lessen until noon,when a few straggling groups marked the end of the invading host.Most significant of all was the fact that neither child, maiden, norsquaw accompanied this army.
Jim appraised the number at six or seven hundred, more than had everbefore visited the village at one time. They were mostly Delawares,with many Shawnees, and a few Hurons among them. It was soonevident, however, that for the present, at least, the Indians didnot intend any hostile demonstration. They were quiet in manner, andbusy about their teepees and camp-fires, but there was an absence ofthe curiosity that had characterized the former sojourns of Indiansat the peaceful village.
After a brief consultation with his brother missionaries, who allwere opposed to his preaching that afternoon, Jim decided he wouldnot deviate from his usual custom. He held the afternoon service,and spoke to the largest congregation that had ever sat before him.He was surprised to find that the sermon, which heretofore sostrongly impressed the savages, did not now arouse the slightestenthusiasm. It was followed by a brooding silence of a boding,ominous import.
Four white men, dressed in Indian garb, had been the most attentivelisteners to Jim's sermon. He recognized three as Simon Girty,Elliott and Deering, the renegades, and he learned from Edwards thatthe other was the notorious McKee. These men went through thevillage, stalking into the shops and cabins, and acting as do menwho are on a tour of inspection.
So intrusive was their curiosity that Jim hurried back to Mr. Well'scabin and remained there in seclusion. Of course, by this time Nelland her uncle knew of the presence of the hostile savages. They werefrightened, and barely regained their composure when the young manassured them he was certain they had no real cause for fear.
Jim was sitting at the doorstep with Mr. Wells and Edwards whenGirty, with his comrades, came toward them. The renegade leader wasa tall, athletic man, with a dark, strong face. There was in it noneof the brutality and ferocity which marked his brother's visage.Simon Girty appeared keen, forceful, authoritative, as, indeed, hemust have been to have attained the power he held in theconfederated tribes. His companions presented wide contrasts.Elliott was a small, spare man of cunning, vindictive aspect; McKeelooked, as might have been supposed from his reputation, and Deeringwas a fit mate for the absent Girty. Simon appeared to be a man ofsome intelligence, who had used all his power to make that positiona great one. The other renegades were desperadoes.
"Where's Heckewelder?" asked Girty, curtly, as he stopped before themissionaries.
"He started out for the Indian towns on the Muskingong," answeredEdwards. "But we have had no word from either him or Zeisberger."
"When d'ye expect him?"
"I can't say. Perhaps to-morrow, and then, again, maybe not for aweek."
"He is in authority here, ain't he?"
"Yes; but he left me in charge of the Mission. Can I serve you inany way?"
"I reckon not," said the renegade, turning to his companions. Theyconversed in low tones for a moment. Presently McKee, Elliott andDeering went toward the newly erected teepees.
"Girty, do you mean us any ill will?" earnestly asked Edwards. Hehad met the man on more than one occasion, and had no hesitationabout questioning him.
"I can't say as I do," answered the renegade, and those who heardhim believed him. "But I'm agin this redskin preachin', an' hev beenall along. The injuns are mad clear through, an' I ain't sayin' I'vetried to quiet 'em any. This missionary work has got to be stopped,one way or another. Now what I waited here to say is this: I ain'tquite forgot I was white once, an' believe you fellars are honest.I'm willin' to go outer my way to help you git away from here."
"Go away?" echoed Edwards.
"That's it," answered Girty, shouldering his rifle.
"But why? We are perfectly harmless; we are only doing good and hurtno one. Why should we go?"
"'Cause there's liable to be trouble," said the renegade,significantly.
Edwards turned slowly to Mr. Wells and Jim. The old missionary wastrembling visibly. Jim was pale; but more with anger than fear.
"Thank you, Girty, but we'll stay," and Jim's voice rang clear.