to heart. There was that in his tenderness which caused Nell to regard him, in

one sense, as she did her uncle. Jim, too, leaned upon her, and she accepted
his devotion where once she had repelled it. She had unconsciously betrayed a

great deal when she had turned so tenderly to him in the first moments after
her recognition, and he remembered it. He did not speak of love to her; he let

a thousand little acts of kindness, a constant thoughtfulness of her plead his
cause.

The days succeeding Heckewelder's departure were remarkable for several
reasons. Although the weather was enticing, the number of visiting Indians

gradually decreased. Not a runner from any tribe came into the village, and
finally the day dawned when not a single Indian from the outlying towns was

present to hear the preaching.
Jim spoke, as usual. After several days had passed and none but converted

Indians made up the congregation, the young man began to be uneasy in mind.
Young and Edwards were unable to account for the unusualabsence from worship,

yet they did not see in it anything to cause especial concern. Often there had
been days without visitation to the Village of Peace.

Finally Jim went to consult Glickhican. He found the Delaware at work in the
potato patch. The old Indian dropped his hoe and bowed to the missionary" target="_blank" title="a.传教(士)的 n.传教士">missionary. A

reverential and statelycourtesy always characterized the attitude of the
Indians toward the young white father.

"Glickhican, can you tell me why no Indians have come here lately?"
The old chief shook his head.

"Does their absencesignify ill to the Village of Peace?"
"Glickhican saw a blackbird flitting in the shadow of the moon. The bird

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" target="_blank" title="ad.坚决地，果断地">decidedly worried. He did not at all like
Glickhican's answer. The purport of it seemed to be that a cloud was rising on

the bright horizon of the Christian village. He confided his fears to Young
and Edwards. After discussing the situation, the three missionaries decided to

send for Heckewelder. He was the leader of the Mission; he knew more of Indian
craft than any of them, and how to meet it. If this calm in the heretofore

busy life of the Mission was the lull before a storm, Heckewelder should be
there with his experience and influence.

"For nearly ten years Heckewelder has anticipated trouble from hostile
savages," said Edwards, "but so far he has always averted it. As you know, he

has confined himself mostly to propitiating the Indians, and persuading them
to be friendly, and listen to us. We'll send for him."

Accordingly they dispatched a runner to Goshocking. In due time the Indian
returned with the startling news that Heckewelder had left the Indian village

days before, as had, in fact, all the savages except the few converted ones.
The same held true in the case of Sandusky, the adjoining town. Moreover, it

had been impossible to obtain any news in regard to Zeisberger.
The missionaries were now thoroughly alarmed, and knew not what to do. They

concealed the real state of affairs from Nell and her uncle, desiring to keep
them from anxiety as long as possible. That night the three teachers went to

bed with heavy hearts.
The following morning at daybreak, Jim was awakened from a sound sleep by some

one calling at his window. He got up to learn who it was, 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. "As soon as

you are dressed, quietly awaken Mr. Wells and Nellie, but do not frighten
them."

"But what's the trouble?" queried Jim, as he began to dress.
"The Indians are pouring into the village as thickly as flying leaves in

autumn."
Edwards' exaggerated assertion proved to be almost literally true. No sooner

had the rising sun dispelled the mist, than it shone on long lines of marching
braves, mounted warriors, hundreds of packhorses approaching from the forests.

The orderlyprocession was proof of a concerted plan on the part of the
invaders.

From their windows the missionaries watched with bated breath; with wonder and
fear they saw the long lines of dusky forms. When they were in the clearing

the savages busied themselves with their packs. Long rows of teepees sprung up
as if by magic. The savages had come to 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, nor squaw accompanied this army.
Jim appraised the number at six or seven hundred, more than had ever before

visited the village at one time. They were mostly Delawares, with many
Shawnees, and a few Hurons among them. It was soon evident, however, that for

the present, at least, the Indians did not intend any hostile demonstration.
They were quiet in manner, and busy about their teepees and camp-fires, but

there was an absence of the curiosity that had characterized the former
sojourns of Indians at the peaceful village.

After a brief consultation with his brother missionaries, who all were opposed
to his preaching that afternoon, Jim decided he would not 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 so strongly impressed the savages, did not now arouse
the slightest enthusiasm. It was followed by a brooding silence of a boding,

ominous import.
Four white men, dressed in Indian garb, had been the most attentive listeners

to Jim's sermon. He recognized three as Simon Girty, Elliott and Deering, the
renegades, and he learned from Edwards that the other was the notorious McKee.

These men went through the village, stalking into the shops and cabins, and
acting as do men who are on a tour of inspection.

So intrusive was their curiosity that Jim hurried back to Mr. Well's cabin and
remained there in seclusion. Of course, by this time Nell and her uncle knew

of the presence of the hostile savages. They were frightened, and barely
regained their composure when the young man assured them he was certain they

had no real cause for fear.
Jim was sitting at the doorstep with Mr. Wells and Edwards when Girty, with

his comrades, came toward them. The renegade leader was a tall, athletic man,
with a dark, strong face. There was in it none of the brutality and ferocity

which marked his brother's visage. Simon Girty appeared keen, forceful,
authoritative, as, indeed, he must have been to have attained the power he

held in the confederated tribes. His companions presented wide contrasts.
Elliott was a small, spare man of cunning, vindictive aspect; McKee looked, as

might have been supposed from his reputation, and Deering was a fit mate for
the absent Girty. Simon appeared to be a man of some intelligence, who had

used all his power to make that position a great one. The other renegades were
desperadoes.

"Where's Heckewelder?" asked Girty, curtly, as he stopped before the
missionaries.

"He started out for the Indian towns on the Muskingong," answered Edwards.
"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 a week."

"He is in authority here, ain't he?"
"Yes; but he left me in charge of the Mission. Can I serve you in any way?"

"I reckon not," said the renegade, turning to his companions. They conversed
in low tones for a moment. Presently McKee, Elliott and Deering went toward

the newly erected teepees.
"Girty, do you mean us any ill will?" earnestly asked Edwards. He had met the

man on more than one occasion, and had no hesitation about questioning him.
"I can't say as I do," answered the renegade, and those who heard him believed

him. "But I'm agin this redskin preachin', an' hev been all along. The injuns
are mad clear through, an' I ain't sayin' I've tried to quiet 'em any. This

missionary" target="_blank" title="a.传教(士)的 n.传教士">missionary work has got to be stopped, one way or another. Now what I waited
here to say is this: I ain't quite 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 perfectlyharmless; we are only doing good and hurt no 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" target="_blank" title="a.传教(士)的 n.传教士">missionary was trembling

visibly. Jim was pale; but more with anger than fear.
"Thank you, Girty, but we'll stay," and Jim's voice rang clear.

Chapter XXI.
"Jim, come out here," called Edwards at the window of Mr. Wells' cabin.

The young man arose from the breakfast table, and when outside found Edwards