Another night's journey will then bring you to the Village of
Peace."
Jim and Mr. Wells, with his nieces, joined the party now, and all
stood watching as the last logs were put in place.
"Colonel Zane, my first log-raising is an education to me," said the
young minister, in his earnest manner. "This scene is so full of
life. I never saw such goodwill among laboring men. Look at that
brawny-armed giant standing on the topmost log. How he whistles as
he swings his ax! Mr. Wells, does it not impress you?"
"The pioneers must be brothers because of their isolation and peril;
to be brothers means to love one another; to love one another is to
love God. What you see in this fraternity is God. And I want to see
this same beautiful feeling among the Indians."
"I have seen it," said Colonel Zane, to the old missionary. "When I
came out here alone twelve years ago the Indians were peaceable. If
the pioneers had paid for land, as I paid Cornplanter, there would
never have been a border war. But no; the settlers must grasp every
acre they could. Then the Indians rebelled; then the Girtys and
their allies spread discontent, and now the border is a bloody
warpath."
"Have the Jesuit missionaries accomplished anything with these war
tribes?" inquired Jim.
"No; their work has been chiefly among the Indians near Detroit and
northward.
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