freed you," said the missionary. "It is a most favorable sign. I have heard
rumors from Goshocking and Sandusky that have worried me. This good news more

than offsets the bad. I am sorry about your brother. Are you well?"
"Well, but miserable. I want to see Nell. Dave tells me she is not exactly

ill, but something is wrong with her. Perhaps I ought not to see her just
yet."

"It'll be exactly the tonic for her," replied Heckewelder. "She'll be
surprised out of herself. She is morbid, apathetic, and, try as we may, we

can't interest her. Come at once."
Heckewelder had taken Jim's arm and started for the door when he caught sight

of Young, sitting bowed and motionless. Turning to Jim he whispered:
"Kate?"

"Girty did not take her into the encampment," answered Jim, in a low voice.
"I hoped he would, because the Indians are kind, but he didn't. He took her to

his den."
Just then Young raised his face. The despair in it would have melted a heart

of stone. It had become the face of an old man.
"If only you'd told me she had died," he said to Jim, "I'd have been man

enough to stand it, but--this--this kills me--I can't breathe!"
He staggered into the adjoining room, where he flung himself upon a bed.

"It's hard, and he won't be able to stand up under it, for he's not strong,"
whispered Jim.

Heckewelder was a mild, pious man, in whom no one would ever expect strong
passion; but now depths were stirred within his heart that had ever been

tranquil. He became livid, and his face was distorted with rage.
"It's bad enough to have these renegades plotting and working against our

religion; to have them sow discontent, spread lies, make the Indians think we
have axes to grind, to plant the only obstacle in our path--all this is bad;

but to doom an innocent white woman to worse than death! What can I call it!"
"What can we do?" asked Jim.

"Do? That's the worst of it. We can do nothing, nothing. We dare not move."
"Is there no hope of getting Kate back?"

"Hope? None. That villain is surrounded by his savages. He'll lie low now for
a while. I've heard of such deeds many a time, but it never before came so

close home. Kate Wells was a pure, loving Christian woman. She'll live an
hour, a day, a week, perhaps, in that snake's clutches, and then she'll die.

Thank God!"
"Wetzel has gone on Girty's trail. I know that from his manner when he left

us," said Edwards.
"Wetzel may avenge her, but he can never save her. It's too late. Hello---"

The exclamation was called forth by the appearance of Young, who entered with
a rifle in his hands.

"George, where are you going with that gun?" asked Edwards, grasping his
friend by the arm.

"I'm going after her," answered George wildly. He tottered as he spoke, but
wrenched himself free from Dave.

"Come, George, listen, listen to reason," interposed Heckewelder, laying hold
of Young. "You are frantic with grief now. So are all of us. But calm

yourself. Why, man, you're a preacher, not a hunter. You'd be lost, you'd
starve in the woods before getting half way to the Indian town. This is

terrible enough; don't make it worse by throwing your life away. Think of us,
your friends; think of your Indian pupils who rely so much on you. Think of

the Village of Peace. We can pray, but we can't prevent these border crimes.
With civilization, with the spread of Christianity, they will pass away. Bear

up under this blow for the sake of your work. Remember we alone can check such
barbarity. But we must not fight. We must sacrifice all that men hold dear,

for the sake of the future."
He took the rifle away from George, and led him back into the little, dark

room. Closing the door he turned to Jim and Dave.
"He is in a bad way, and we must carefully watch him for a few days."

"Think of George starting out to kill Girty!" exclaimed Dave. "I never fired a
gun, but yet I'd go too."

"So would we all, if we did as our hearts dictate," retorted Heckewelder,
turning fiercely upon Dave as if stung. "Man! we have a village full of

Christians to look after. What would become of them? I tell you we've all we
can do here to outwit these border ruffians. Simon Girty is plotting our ruin.

I heard it to-day from the Delaware runner who is my friend. He is jealous of
our influence, when all we desire is to save these poor Indians. And, Jim,

Girty has killed our happiness. Can we ever recover from the misery brought
upon us by poor Kate's fate?"

The missionary raised his hand as if to exhort some power above.
"Curse the Girty's!" he exclaimed in a sudden burst of uncontrollable passion.

"Having conquered all other obstacles, must we fail because of wicked men of
our own race? Oh, curse them!"

"Come," he said, presently, in a voice which trembled with the effort he made
to be calm. "We'll go in to Nellie."

The three men entered Mr. Wells' cabin. The old missionary, with bowed head
and hands clasped behind his back, was pacing to and fro. He greeted Jim with

glad surprise.
"We want Nellie to see him," whispered Heckewelder. "We think the surprise

will do her good."
"I trust it may," said Mr. Wells.

"Leave it to me."
They followed Heckewelder into an adjoining room. A torch flickered over the

rude mantle-shelf, lighting up the room with fitful flare. It was a warm
night, and the soft breeze coming in the window alternately paled and

brightened the flame.
Jim saw Nell lying on the bed. Her eyes were closed, and her long, dark lashes

seemed black against the marble paleness of her skin.
"Stand behind me," whispered Heckewelder to Jim.

"Nellie," he called softly, but only a faint flickering of her lashes answered
him.

"Nellie, Nellie," repeated Heckewelder, his deep, strong voice thrilling.
Her eyes opened. They gazed at Mr. Wells on one side, at Edwards standing at

the foot of the bed, at Heckewelder leaning over her, but there was no
recognition or interest in her look.

"Nellie, can you understand me?" asked Heckewelder, putting into his voice all
the power and intensity of feeling of which he was capable.

An almost imperceptible shadow of understanding shone in her eyes.
"Listen. You have had a terrible shock, and it has affected your mind. You

are mistaken in what you think, what you dream of all the time. Do you
understand? You are wrong!"

Nell's eyes quickened with a puzzled, questioning doubt. The minister's
magnetic, penetrating voice had pierced her dulled brain.

"See, I have brought you Jim!"
Heckewelder stepped aside as Jim fell on his knees by the bed. He took her

cold hands in his and bent over her. For the moment his voice failed.
The doubt in Nell's eyes changed to a wondrousgladness. It was like the

rekindling of a smoldering fire.
"Jim?" she whispered.

"Yes, Nellie, it's Jim alive and well. It's Jim come back to you."
A soft flush stained her white face. She slipped her arm tenderly around his

neck, and held her cheek close to his.
"Jim," she murmured.

"Nellie, don't you now me?" asked Mr. Wells, trembling, excited. This was the
first word she had spoken in four days.

"Uncle!" she exclaimed, suddenly loosening her hold on Jim, and sitting up in
bed, then she gazed wildly at the others.

"Was it all a horrible dream?"
Mr. Wells took her hand soothingly, but he did not attempt to answer her

question. He looked helplessly at Heckewelder, but that missionary was
intently studying the expression on Nell's face.

"Part of it was a dream," he answered,impressively.
"Then that horrible man did take us away?"

"Yes."
"Oh-h! but we're free now? This is my room. Oh, tell me?"

"Yes, Nellie, you're safe at home now."
"Tell--tell me," she cried, shudderingly, as she leaned close to Jim and

raised a white, imploring face to his. "Where is Kate?--Oh! Jim--say, say she
wasn't left with Girty?"