his honor. It makes him meet his foe face to face, and if he is to die it

gives him strength to die--a man. The spirit is what makes him different from
the arrow, the canoe, the mountain, and all the birds and beasts. For it is

born of the Great Spirit, the creator of all. Him you must worship.
"Redmen, this worship is understanding your spirit and teaching it to do good

deeds. It is called Christianity. Christianity is love. If you will love the
Great Spirit you will love your wives, your children, your brothers, your

friends, your foes--you will love the palefaces. No more will you idle in
winter and wage wars in summer. You will wear your knife and tomahawk only

when you hunt for meat. You will be kind, gentle, loving, virtuous--you will
have grown wise. When your days are done you will meet all your loved ones in

the beautiful forest. There, where the flowers bloom, the fruits ripen always,
where the pleasant water glides and the summer winds whispersweetly, there

peace will dwell forever.
"Comrades, be wise, think earnestly" target="_blank" title="ad.认真地；急切地">earnestly. Forget the wicked paleface; for there are

many wicked palefaces. They sell the serpent firewater; they lie and steal and
kill. These palefaces' eyes are still clouded. If they do not open they will

never see the beautiful forest. You have much to forgive, but those who
forgive please the Great Spirit; you must give yourselves to love, but those

who love are loved; you must work, but those who work are happy.
"Behold the Village of Peace! Once it contained few; now there are many.

Where once the dark forest shaded the land, see the cabins, the farms, the
horses, the cattle! Field on field of waving, golden grain shine there under

your eyes. The earth has blossomed abundance. Idling and fighting made not
these rich harvests. Belief made love; love made wise eyes; wise eyes saw, and

lo! there came plenty.
"The proof of love is happiness. These Christian Indians are happy. They are

at peace with the redman and the paleface. They till the fields and work in
the shops. In days to come cabins and farms and fields of corn will be theirs.

They will bring up their children, not to hide in the forest to slay, but to
walk hand in hand with the palefaces as equals.

"Oh, open your ears! God speaks to you; peace awaits you! Cast the bitterness
from your hearts; it is the serpent-poison. While you hate, God shuts His

eyes. You are great on the trail, in the council, in war; now be great in
forgiveness. Forgive the palefaces who have robbed you of your lands. Then

will come peace. If you do not forgive, the war will go on; you will lose
lands and homes, to find unmarked graves under the forest leaves. Revenge is

sweet; but it is not wise. The price of revenge is blood and life. Root it out
of your hearts. Love these Christian Indians; love the missionaries as they

love you; love all living creatures. Your days are but few; therefore, cease
the the strife. Let us say, 'Brothers, that is God's word, His law; that is

love; that is Christianity!' If you will say from your heart, brother, you are
a Christian.

"Brothers, the paleface teacher beseeches you. Think not of this long, bloody
war, of your dishonored dead, of your silenced wigwams, of your nameless

graves, of your homeless children. Think of the future. One word from you will
make peace over all this broad land. The paleface must honor a Christian. He

can steal no Christian's land. All the palefaces, as many as the stars of the
great white path, dare not invade the Village of Peace. For God smiles here.

Listen to His words: 'Come unto me all that are weary and heavy laden, and I
will give you rest.'"

Over the multitude brooded an impressive, solemn silence. Then an aged
Delaware chief rose, with a mien of profound thought, and slowly paced before

the circle of chiefs. Presently he stopped, turned to the awaiting Indians,
and spoke:

"Netawatwees is almost persuaded to be a Christian." He resumed his seat.
Another interval of penetrating quiet ensued. At length a venerable-looking

chieftain got up:
"White Eyes hears the rumbling thunder in his ears. The smoke blows from his

eyes. White Eyes is the oldest chief of the Lenni-Lenape. His days are many;
they are full; they draw near the evening of his life; he rejoices that wisdom

is come before his sun is set.
"White Eyes believes the young White Father. The ways of the Great Spirit are

many as the fluttering leaves; they are strange and secret as the flight of a
loon; White Eyes believes the redman's happy hunting grounds need not be

forgotten to love the palefaces' God. As a young brave pants and puzzles over
his first trail, so the grown warrior feels in his understanding of his God.

He gropes blindly through dark ravines.
"White Eyes speaks few words to-day, for he is learningwisdom; he bids his

people hearken to the voice of the White Father. War is wrong; peace is best.
Love is the way to peace. The paleface advances one step nearer his God. He

labors for his home; he keeps the peace; he asks but little; he frees his
women. That is well. White Eyes has spoken."

The old chief slowly advanced toward the Christian Indians. He laid aside his
knife and tomahawk, and then his eagle plumes and war-bonnet. Bareheaded, he

seated himself among the converted redmen. They began chanting in low,
murmuring tones.

Amid the breathless" target="_blank" title="a.屏息的">breathless silence that followed this act of such great significance,
Wingenund advanced toward the knoll with slow, stately step. His dark eye

swept the glade with lightning scorn; his glance alone revealed the passion
that swayed him.

"Wingenund's ears are keen; they have heard a feather fall in the storm; now
they hear a soft-voiced thrush. Wingenund thunders to his people, to his

friends, to the chiefs of other tribes: 'Do not bury the hatchet!' The young
White Father's tongue runs smooth like the gliding brook; it sings as the

thrush calls its mate. Listen; but wait, wait! Let time prove his beautiful
tale; let the moons go by over the Village of Peace.

"Wingenund does not flaunt his wisdom. He has grown old among his warriors; he
loves them; he fears for them. The dream of the palefaces' beautiful forest

glimmers as the rainbow glows over the laughing falls of the river. The dream
of the paleface is too beautiful to come true. In the days of long ago, when

Wingenund's forefathers heard not the paleface's ax, they lived in love and
happiness such as the young White Father dreams may come again. They waged no

wars. A white dove sat in every wigwam. The lands were theirs and they were
rich. The paleface came with his leaden death, his burning firewater, his

ringing ax, and the glory of the redmen faded forever.
"Wingenund seeks not to inflame his braves to anger. He is sick of

blood-spilling--not from fear; for Wingenund cannot feel fear. But he asks his
people to wait. Remember, the gifts of the paleface ever contained a poisoned

arrow. Wingenund's heart is sore. The day of the redman is gone. His sun is
setting. Wingenund feels already the gray shades of evening."

He stopped one long moment as if to gather breath for his final charge to his
listeners. Then with a magnificentgesture he thundered:

"Is the Delaware a fool? When Wingenund can cross unarmed to the Big Water he
shall change his mind. When Deathwind ceases to blow his bloody trail over the

fallen leaves Wingenund will believe."
Chapter XIII.

As the summer waned, each succeeding day, with its melancholy calm, its
changing lights and shades, its cool, damp evening winds, growing more and

more suggestive of autumn, the little colony of white people in the Village of
Peace led busy, eventful lives.

Upwards of fifty Indians, several of them important chiefs, had become
converted since the young missionary" target="_blank" title="a.传教(士)的 n.传教士">missionary began preaching. Heckewelder declared

that this was a wonderful showing, and if it could be kept up would result in
gaining a hold on the Indian tribes which might not be shaken. Heckewelder

had succeeded in interesting the savages west of the Village of Peace to the
extent of permitting him to establish missionary" target="_blank" title="a.传教(士)的 n.传教士">missionary posts in two other

localities--one near Goshhocking, a Delaware town; and one on the Muskingong,
the principal river running through central Ohio. He had, with his helpers,

Young and Edwards, journeyed from time to time to these points, preaching,
making gifts, and soliciting help from chiefs.

The most interesting feature, perhaps, of the varied life of the missionary" target="_blank" title="a.传教(士)的 n.传教士">missionary
party was a rivalry between Young and Edwards for the elder Miss Wells.

Usually Nell's attractiveness appealed more to men than Kate's; however, in
this instance, although the sober teachers of the gospel admired Nell's

winsome beauty, they fell in love with Kate. The missionaries were both under
forty, and good, honest men, devoted to the work which had engrossed them for

years. Although they were ardent lovers, certainly they were not picturesque.
Two homelier men could hardly have been found. Moreover, the sacrifice of

their lives to missionary" target="_blank" title="a.传教(士)的 n.传教士">missionary work had taken them far from the companionship of
women of their own race, so that they lacked the ease of manner which women

like to see in men. Young and Edwards were awkward, almost uncouth.
Embarrassment would not have done justice to their state of feeling while

basking in the shine of Kate's quiet smile. They were happy, foolish, and