The Spirit of the Border by Zane Grey (free children's ebooks pdf .TXT) 📖

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 orderly procession 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 campfires, 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 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 perfectly harmless; 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 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 standing by the door with an Indian brave. He was a Wyandot lightly built, lithe and wiry, easily recognizable as an Indian runner. When Jim appeared the man handed him a small packet. He unwound a few folds of some oily skin to find a square piece of birch bark, upon which were scratched the following words:

“Rev. J. Downs. Greeting.

“Your brother is alive and safe. Whispering Winds rescued him by taking him as her husband. Leave the Village of Peace. Pipe and Half King have been influenced by Girty.

“Zane.”

“Now, what do you think of that?” exclaimed Jim, handing the message to Edwards. “Thank Heaven, Joe was saved!”

“Zane? That must be the Zane who married Tarhe’s daughter,” answered Edwards, when he had read the note. “I’m rejoiced to hear of your brother.”

“Joe married to that beautiful Indian maiden! Well, of all wonderful things,” mused Jim. “What will Nell say?”

“We’re getting warnings enough. Do you appreciate that?” asked Edwards. “‘Pipe and Half King have been influenced by Girty.’ Evidently the writer deemed that brief sentence of sufficient meaning.”

“Edwards, we’re preachers. We can’t understand such things. I am learning, at least something every day. Colonel Zane advised us not to come here. Wetzel said, ‘Go back to Fort Henry.’ Girty warned us, and now comes this peremptory order from Isaac Zane.”

“Well?”

“It means that these border men see what we will not admit. We ministers have such hope and trust in God that we can not realize the dangers of this life. I fear that our work has been in vain.”

“Never. We have already saved many souls. Do not be discouraged.”

All this time the runner had stood near at hand straight as an arrow. Presently Edwards suggested that the Wyandot was waiting to be questioned, and accordingly he asked the Indian if he had anything further to communicate.

“Huron—go by—paleface.” Here he held up both hands and shut his fists several times, evidently enumerating how many white men he had seen. “Here—when—high—sun.”

With that he bounded lightly past them, and loped off with an even, swinging stride.

“What did he mean?” asked Jim, almost sure he had not heard the runner aright.

“He meant that a party of white men are approaching, and will be here by noon. I never knew an Indian runner to carry unreliable information. We have joyful news, both in regard to your brother, and the Village of Peace. Let us go in to tell the others.”

The Huron runner’s report proved to be correct. Shortly before noon signals from Indian scouts proclaimed the approach of a band of white men. Evidently Girty’s forces had knowledge beforehand of the proximity of this band, for the signals created no excitement. The Indians expressed only a lazy curiosity. Soon several Delaware scouts appeared, escorting a large party of frontiersmen.

These men turned out to be Captain Williamson’s force, which had been out on an expedition after a marauding tribe of Chippewas. This last named tribe had recently harried the remote settlers, and committed depredations on the outskirts of the white settlements eastward. The company was composed of men who had served in the garrison at Fort Pitt, and hunters and backwoodsmen from Yellow Creek and Fort Henry. The captain himself was a typical borderman, rough and bluff, hardened by long years of border life, and, like most pioneers, having no more use for an Indian than for a snake. He had led his party after the marauders, and surprised and slaughtered nearly all of them. Returning eastward he had passed through Goshocking, where he learned of the muttering storm rising over the Village of Peace, and had come more out of curiosity than hope to avert misfortune.

The advent of so many frontiersmen seemed a godsend to the perplexed and worried missionaries. They welcomed the newcomers most heartily. Beds were made in several of the newly erected cabins; the village was given over for the comfort of the frontiersmen. Edwards conducted Captain Williamson through the shops and schools, and the old borderman’s weather-beaten face expressed a comical surprise.

“Wal, I’ll be durned if I ever expected to see a redskin work,” was his only comment on the industries.

“We are greatly alarmed by the presence of Girty and his followers,” said Edwards. “We have been warned to leave, but have not been actually threatened. What do you infer from the appearance here of these hostile savages?”

“It hardly ‘pears to me they’ll bother you preachers. They’re agin the Christian redskins, that’s plain.”

“Why have we been warned to go?”

“That’s natural, seein’ they’re agin the preachin’.”

“What will they do with the converted Indians?”

“Mighty onsartin. They might let them go back to the tribes, but ‘pears to me these good Injuns won’t go. Another thing, Girty is afeered of the spread of Christianity.”

“Then you think our Christians will be made prisoners?”

“‘Pears likely.”

“And you, also, think we’d do well to leave here.”

“I do, sartin. We’re startin’ for Fort Henry soon. You’d better come along with us.”

“Captain Williamson, we’re going to stick it out, Girty or no Girty.”

“You can’t do no good stayin’ here. Pipe and Half King won’t stand for the singin’, prayin’ redskins, especially when they’ve got all these cattle and fields of grain.”

“Wetzel said the same.”

“Hev you seen Wetzel?”

“Yes; he rescued a girl from Jim Girty, and returned her to us.”

“That so? I met Wetzel and Jack Zane back a few miles in the woods. They’re layin’ for somebody, because when I asked them to come along they refused, sayin’ they had work as must be done. They looked like it, too. I never hern tell of Wetzel advisin’ any one