Zane Grey (30 page)

The two hunters turned their stern faces toward the west, and passed
silently down the ridge into the depths of the forest. Darkness
found them within rifle-shot of the Village of Peace. With the dog
creeping between them, they crawled to a position which would, in
daylight, command a view of the clearing. Then, while one stood
guard, the other slept.

When morning dawned they shifted their position to the top of a low,
fern-covered cliff, from which they could see every movement in the
village. All the morning they watched with that wonderful patience
of men who knew how to wait. The visiting savages were quiet, the
missionaries moved about in and out of the shops and cabins; the
Christian indians worked industriously in the fields, while the
renegades lolled before a prominent teepee.

"This quiet looks bad," whispered Jonathan to Wetzel. No shouts were
heard; not a hostile Indian was seen to move.

"They've come to a decision," whispered Jonathan, and Wetzel
answered him:

"If they hev, the Christians don't know it."

An hour later the deep pealing of the church bell broke the silence.
The entire band of Christian Indians gathered near the large log
structure, and then marched in orderly form toward the maple grove
where the service was always held in pleasant weather. This movement
brought the Indians within several hundred yards of the cliff where
Zane and Wetzel lay concealed.

"There's Heckewelder walking with old man Wells," whispered
Jonathan. "There's Young and Edwards, and, yes, there's the young
missionary, brother of Joe. 'Pears to me they're foolish to hold
service in the face of all those riled Injuns."

"Wuss'n foolish," answered Wetzel.

"Look! By gum! As I'm a livin' sinner there comes the whole crowd of
hostile redskins. They've got their guns, and—by Gum! they're
painted. Looks bad, bad! Not much friendliness about that bunch!"

"They ain't intendin' to be peaceable."

"By gum! You're right. There ain't one of them settin' down. 'Pears
to me I know some of them redskins. There's Pipe, sure enough, and
Kotoxen. By gum! If there ain't Shingiss; he was friendly once."

"None of them's friendly."

"Look! Lew, look! Right behind Pipe. See that long war-bonnet. As
I'm a born sinner, that's your old friend, Wingenund. 'Pears to me
we've rounded up all our acquaintances."

The two bordermen lay close under the tall ferns and watched the
proceedings with sharp eyes. They saw the converted Indians seat
themselves before the platform. The crowd of hostile Indians
surrounded the glade on all sides, except on, which, singularly
enough, was next to the woods.

"Look thar!" exclaimed Wetzel, under his breath. He pointed off to
the right of the maple glade. Jonathan gazed in the direction
indicated, and saw two savages stealthily slipping through the
bushes, and behind trees. Presently these suspicious acting spies,
or scouts, stopped on a little knoll perhaps an hundred yards from
the glade.

Wetzel groaned.

"This ain't comfortable," growled Zane, in a low whisper. "Them red
devils are up to somethin' bad. They'd better not move round over
here."

The hunters, satisfied that the two isolated savages meant mischief,
turned their gaze once more toward the maple grove.

"Ah! Simon you white traitor! See him, Lew, comin' with his precious
gang," said Jonathan. "He's got the whole thing fixed, you can
plainly see that. Bill Elliott, McKee; and who's that renegade with
Jim Girty? I'll allow he must be the fellar we heard was with the
Chippewas. Tough lookin' customer; a good mate fer Jim Girty! A fine
lot of border-hawks!"

"Somethin' comin' off," whispered Wetzel, as Zane's low growl grew
unintelligible.

Jonathan felt, rather than saw, Wetzel tremble.

"The missionaries are consultin'. Ah! there comes one! Which? I
guess it's Edwards. By gum! who's that Injun stalkin' over from the
hostile bunch. Big chief, whoever he is. Blest if it ain't Half
King!"

The watchers saw the chief wave his arm and speak with evident
arrogance to Edwards, who, however, advanced to the platform and
raised his hand to address the Christians.

"Crack!"

A shot rang out from the thicket. Clutching wildly at his breast,
the missionary reeled back, staggered, and fell.

"One of those skulkin' redskins has killed Edwards," said Zane.
"But, no; he's not dead! He's gettin' up. Mebbe he ain't hurt bad.
By gum! there's Young comin' forward. Of all the fools!"

It was indeed true that Young had faced the Indians. Half King
addressed him as he had the other; but Young raised his hand and
began speaking.

"Crack!"

Another shot rang out. Young threw up his hands and fell heavily.
The missionaries rushed toward him. Mr. Wells ran round the group,
wringing his hands as if distracted.

"He's hard hit," hissed Zane, between his teeth. "You can tell that
by the way he fell."

Wetzel did not answer. He lay silent and motionless, his long body
rigid, and his face like marble.

"There comes the other young fellar—Joe's brother. He'll get
plugged, too," continued Zane, whispering rather to himself than to
his companion. "Oh, I hoped they'd show some sense! It's noble for
them to die for Christianity, but it won't do no good. By gum!
Heckewelder has pulled him back. Now, that's good judgment!"

Half King stepped before the Christians and addressed them. He held
in his hand a black war-club, which he wielded as he spoke.

Jonathan's attention was now directed from the maple grove to the
hunter beside him. He had heard a slight metallic click, as Wetzel
cocked his rifle. Then he saw the black barrel slowly rise.

"Listen, Lew. Mebbe it ain't good sense. We're after Girty, you
remember; and it's a long shot from here—full three hundred yards."

"You're right, Jack, you're right," answered Wetzel, breathing hard.

"Let's wait, and see what comes off."

"Jack, I can't do it. It'll make our job harder; but I can't help
it. I can put a bullet just over the Huron's left eye, an' I'm goin'
to do it."

"You can't do it, Lew; you can't! It's too far for any gun. Wait!
Wait!" whispered Jonathan, laying his hand on Wetzel's shoulder.

"Wait? Man, can't you see what the unnamable villain is doin'?"

"What?" asked Zane, turning his eyes again to the glade.

The converted Indians sat with bowed heads. Half King raised his
war-club, and threw it on the ground in front of them.

"He's announcin' the death decree!" hissed Wetzel.

"Well! if he ain't!"

Jonathan looked at Wetzel's face. Then he rose to his knees, as had
Wetzel, and tightened his belt. He knew that in another instant they
would be speeding away through the forest.

"Lew, my rifle's no good fer that distance. But mebbe yours is. You
ought to know. It's not sense, because there's Simon Girty, and
there's Jim, the men we're after. If you can hit one, you can
another. But go ahead, Lew. Plug that cowardly redskin!"

Wetzel knelt on one knee, and thrust the black rifle forward through
the fern leaves. Slowly the fatal barrel rose to a level, and became
as motionless as the immovable stones.

Jonathan fixed his keen gaze on the haughty countenance of Half King
as he stood with folded arms and scornful mien in front of the
Christians he had just condemned.

Even as the short, stinging crack of Wetzel's rifle broke the
silence, Jonathan saw the fierce expression of Half King's dark face
change to one of vacant wildness. His arms never relaxed from their
folded position. He fell, as falls a monarch of the forest trees, a
dead weight.

"Please do not preach to-day," said Nell, raising her eyes
imploringly to Jim's face.

"Nellie, I must conduct the services as usual. I can not shirk my
duty, nor let these renegades see I fear to face them."

"I have such a queer feeling. I am afraid. I don't want to be left
alone. Please do not leave me."

Jim strode nervously up and down the length of the room. Nell's worn
face, her beseeching eyes and trembling hands touched his heart.
Rather than almost anything else, he desired to please her, to
strengthen her; yet how could he shirk his duty?

"Nellie, what is it you fear?" he asked, holding her hands tightly.

"Oh, I don't know what—everything. Uncle is growing weaker every
day. Look at Mr. Young; he is only a shadow of his former self, and
this anxiety is wearing Mr. Heckewelder out. He is more concerned
than he dares admit. You needn't shake your head, for I know it.
Then those Indians who are waiting, waiting—for God only knows
what! Worse than all to me, I saw that renegade, that fearful beast
who made way with poor dear Kate!"

Nell burst into tears, and leaned sobbing on Jim's shoulder.

"Nell, I've kept my courage only because of you," replied Jim, his
voice trembling slightly.

She looked up quickly. Something in the pale face which was bent
over her told that now, if ever, was the time for a woman to forget
herself, and to cheer, to inspire those around her.

"I am a silly baby, and selfish!" she cried, freeing herself from
his hold. "Always thinking of myself." She turned away and wiped the
tears from her eyes. "Go, Jim, do you duty; I'll stand by and help
you all a woman can."

The missionaries were consulting in Heckewelder's cabin. Zeisberger
had returned that morning, and his aggressive, dominating spirit was
just what they needed in an hour like this. He raised the downcast
spirits of the ministers.

"Hold the service? I should say we will," he declared, waving his
hands. "What have we to be afraid of?"

"I do not know," answered Heckewelder, shaking his head doubtfully.
"I do not know what to fear. Girty himself told me he bore us no ill
will; but I hardly believe him. All this silence, this ominous
waiting perplexes, bewilders me."

"Gentlemen, our duty at least is plain," said Jim, impressively.
"The faith of these Christian Indians in us is so absolute that they
have no fear. They believe in God, and in us. These threatening
savages have failed signally to impress our Christians. If we do not
hold the service they will think we fear Girty, and that might have
a bad influence."

"I am in favor of postponing the preaching for a few days. I tell
you I am afraid of Girty's Indians, not for myself, but for these
Christians whom we love so well. I am afraid." Heckewelder's face
bore testimony to his anxious dread.

"You are our leader; we have but to obey," said Edwards. "Yet I
think we owe it to our converts to stick to our work until we are
forced by violence to desist."

"Ah! What form will that violence take?" cried Heckewelder, his face
white. "You cannot tell what these savages mean. I fear! I fear!"

"Listen, Heckewelder, you must remember we had this to go through
once before," put in Zeisberger earnestly. "In '78 Girty came down
on us like a wolf on the fold. He had not so many Indians at his
beck and call as now; but he harangued for days, trying to scare us
and our handful of Christians. He set his drunken fiends to frighten
us, and he failed. We stuck it out and won. He's trying the same
game. Let us stand against him, and hold our services as usual. We
should trust in God!"

"Never give up!" cried Jim.

"Gentlemen, you are right; you shame me, even though I feel that I
understand the situation and its dread possibilities better than any
one of you. Whatever befalls we'll stick to our post. I thank you
for reviving the spirit in my cowardly heart. We will hold the
service to-day as usual and to make it more impressive, each shall
address the congregation in turn."

"And, if need be, we will give our lives for our Christians," said
Young, raising his pale face.

The deep mellow peals of the church bell awoke the slumbering
echoes. Scarcely had its melody died away in the forest when a line
of Indians issued from the church and marched toward the maple
grove. Men, women, youths, maidens and children.

Glickhican, the old Delaware chief, headed the line. His step was
firm, his head erect, his face calm in its noble austerity. His
followers likewise expressed in their countenances the steadfastness
of their belief. The maidens' heads were bowed, but with shyness,
not fear. The children were happy, their bright faces expressive of
the joy they felt in the anticipation of listening to their beloved
teachers.

This procession passed between rows of painted savages, standing
immovable, with folded arms, and somber eyes.

No sooner had the Christians reached the maple grove, when from all
over the clearing appeared hostile Indians, who took positions near
the knoll where the missionaries stood.

Heckewelder's faithful little band awaited him on the platform. The
converted Indians seated themselves as usual at the foot of the
knoll. The other savages crowded closely on both sides. They carried
their weapons, and maintained the same silence that had so
singularly marked their mood of the last twenty-four hours. No human
skill could have divined their intention. This coldness might be
only habitual reserve, and it might be anything else.

Heckewelder approached at the same time that Simon Girty and his
band of renegades appeared. With the renegades were Pipe and Half
King. These two came slowly across the clearing, passed through the
opening in the crowd, and stopped close to the platform.

Heckewelder went hurriedly up to his missionaries. He seemed beside
himself with excitement, and spoke with difficulty.

"Do not preach to-day. I have been warned again," he said, in a low
voice.

"Do you forbid it?" inquired Edwards.

"No, no. I have not that authority, but I implore it. Wait, wait
until the Indians are in a better mood."