The Zane Grey Megapack. Zane Grey
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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 tomorrow, 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. “‘If 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