"You're mistaken again--I'm Jim," he whispered.
For a moment they stood staring into each other's eyes, slowly awakening to

what had really happened, slowly conscious of a sweet, alluring power. Then
Colonel Zane's cheery voice rang in their ears.

"Ah, here's Nellie and your brother! Now, lads, tell me which is which?'
"That's Jim, and I'm Joe," answered the latter. He appeared not to notice his

brother, and his greeting to Nell was natural and hearty. For the moment she
drew the attention of the others from them.

Joe found himself listening to the congratulations of a number of people.
Among the many names he remembered were those of Mrs. Zane, Silas Zane, and

Major McColloch. Then he found himself gazing at the most beautiful girl he
had ever seen in his life.

"My only sister, Mrs. Alfred Clarke--once Betty Zane, and the heroine of Fort
Henry," said Colonel Zane proudly, with his arm around the slender, dark-eyed

girl.
"I would brave the Indians and the wilderness again for this pleasure,"

replied Joe gallantly, as he bowed low over the little hand she cordially
extended.

"Bess, is dinner ready?" inquired Colonel Zane of his comely wife. She nodded
her head, and the colonel led the way into the adjoining room. "I know you

boys must be hungry as bears."
During the meal Colonel Zane questioned his guests about their journey, and as

to the treatment they had received at the hands of the Indians. He smiled at
the young minister's earnestness in regard to the conversion of the redmen,

and he laughed outright when Joe said "he guessed he came to the frontier
because it was too slow at home."

"I am sure your desire for excitement will soon be satisfied, if indeed it be
not so already," remarked the colonel. "But as to the realization of your

brother's hopes I am not so sanguine. Undoubtedly the Moravian missionaries
have accomplished wonders with the Indians. Not long ago I visited the Village

of Peace--the Indian name for the mission--and was struck by the friendliness
and industry which prevailed there. Truly it was a village of peace. Yet it is

almost to early to be certain of permanent success of this work. The Indian's
nature is one hard to understand. He is naturally roving and restless, which,

however, may be owing to his habit of moving from place to place in search of
good hunting grounds. I believe--though I must confess I haven't seen any

pioneers who share my belief--that the savage has a beautiful side to his
character. I know of many noble deeds done by them, and I believe, if they are

honestly dealt with, they will return good for good. There are bad ones, of
course; but the French traders, and men like the Girtys, have caused most of

this long war. Jonathan and Wetzel tell me the Shawnees and Chippewas have
taken the warpath again. Then the fact that the Girtys are with the Delawares

is reason for alarm. We have been comparatively quiet here of late. Did you
boys learn to what tribe your captors belong? Did Wetzel say?"

"He did not; he spoke little, but I will say he was exceedingly active,"
answered Joe, with a smile.

"To have seen Wetzel fight Indians is something you are not likely to forget,"
said Colonel Zane grimly. "Now, tell me, how did those Indians wear their

scalp-lock?"
"Their heads were shaved closely, with the exception of a little place on top.

The remaining hair was twisted into a tuft, tied tightly, and into this had
been thrust a couple of painted pins. When Wetzel scalped the Indians the pins

fell out. I picked one up, and found it to be bone."
"You will make a woodsman, that's certain," replied Colonel Zane. "The Indians

were Shawnee on the warpath. Well, we will not borrow trouble, for when it
comes in the shape of redskins it usually comes quickly. Mr. Wells seemed

anxious to resume the journey down the river; but I shall try to persuade him
to remain with us awhile. Indeed, I am sorry I cannot keep you all here at

Fort Henry, and more especially the girls. On the border we need young people,
and, while I do not want to frighten the women, I fear there will be more than

Indians fighting for them."
"I hope not; but we have come prepared for anything," said Kate, with a quiet

smile. "Our home was with uncle, and when he announced his intention of going
west we decided our duty was to go with him."

"You were right, and I hope you will find a happy home," rejoined Colonel
Zane. "If life among the Indian, proves to be too had, we shall welcome you

here. Betty, show the girls your pets and Indian trinkets. I am going to take
the boys to Silas' cabin to see Mr. Wells, and then show them over the fort."

As they went out Joe saw the Indian guide standing in exactly the same
position as when they entered the building.

"Can't that Indian move?" he asked curiously.
"He can cover one hundred miles in a day, when he wants to," replied Colonel

Zane. "He is resting now. An Indian will often stand or sit in one position
for many hours."

"He's a fine-looking chap," remarked Joe, and then to himself: "but I don't
like him. I guess I'm prejudiced."

"You'll learn to like Tome, as we call him."
"Colonel Zane, I want a light for my pipe. I haven't had a smoke since the day

we were captured. That blamed redskin took my tobacco. It's lucky I had some
in my other pack. I'd like to meet him again; also Silvertip and that brute

Girty."
"My lad, don't make such wishes," said Colonel Zane, earnestly. "You were

indeed fortunate to escape, and I can well understand your feelings. There is
nothing I should like better than to see Girty over the sights of my rifle;

but I never hunt after danger, and to look for Girty is to court death."
"But Wetzel---"

"Ah, my lad, I know Wetzel goes alone in the woods; but then, he is different
from other men. Before you leave I will tell you all about him.".

Colonel Zane went around the comer of the cabin and returned with a live coal
on a chip of wood, which Joe placed in the bowl of his pipe, and because of

the strong breeze stepped close to the cabin wall. Being a keen observer, he
noticed many small, round holes in the logs. They were so near together that

the timbers had an odd, speckled appearance, and there was hardly a place
where he could have put his thumb without covering a hole. At first he thought

they were made by a worm or bird peculiar to that region; but finally lie
concluded that they were bullet-holes. He thrust his knife blade into one, and

out rolled a leaden ball.
"I'd like to have been here when these were made," he said.

"Well, at the time I wished I was back on the Potomac," replied Colonel Zane.
They found the old missionary on the doorstep of the adjacent cabin. He

appeared discouraged when Colonel Zane interrogated him, and said that he was
impatient because of the delay.

"Mr. Wells, is it not possible that you underrate the danger of your
enterprise?"

"I fear naught but the Lord," answered the old man.
"Do you not fear for those with you?" went on the colonelearnestly. "I am

heart and soul with you in your work, but want to impress upon yon that the
time is not propitious. It is a long journey to the village, and the way is

beset with dangers of which you have no idea. Will you not remain here with me
for a few weeks, or, at least, until my scouts report?"

"I thank you; but go I will."
"Then let me entreat you to remain here a few days, so that I may send my

brother Jonathan and Wetzel with you. If any can guide you safely to the
Village of Peace it will be they."

At this moment Joe saw two men approaching from the fort, and recognized one
of them as Wetzel. He doubted not that the other was Lord Dunmore's famous

guide and hunter, Jonathan Zane. In features he resembled the colonel, and was
as tall as Wetzel, although not so muscular or wide of chest.

Joe felt the same thrill he had experienced while watching the frontiersmen at
Fort Pitt. Wetzel and Jonathan spoke a word to Colonel Zane and then stepped

aside. The hunters stood lithe and erect, with the easy, graceful poise of
Indians.

"We'll take two canoes, day after to-morrow," said Jonathan, decisively, to
Colonel Zane. "Have you a rifle for Wetzel? The Delawares got his."

Colonel Zane pondered over the question; rifles were not scarce at the fort,
but a weapon that Wetzel would use was hard to find.

"The hunter may have my rifle," said the old missionary. "I have no use for a
weapon with which to destroy God's creatures. My brother was a frontiersman;

he left this rifle to me. I remember hearing him say once that if a man knew
exactly the weight of lead and powder needed, it would shoot absolutely true."