The Hurons, Delawares, Shawnees and other western tribes
have been demoralized by the French traders' rum, and incited to
fierce hatred by Girty and his renegades. Your work at Gnaddenhutten
must be among these hostile tribes, and it is surely a hazardous
undertaking."
"My life is God's," murmured the old minister. No fear could assail
his steadfast faith.
"Jim, it strikes me you'd be more likely to impress these Indians
Colonel Zane spoke of if you'd get a suit like mine and wear a knife
and tomahawk," interposed Joe, cheerfully. "Then, if you couldn't
convert, you could scalp them."
"Well, well, let us hope for the best," said Colonel Zane, when the
laughter had subsided. "We'll go over to dinner now. Come, all of
you. Jonathan, bring Wetzel. Betty, make him come, if you can."
As the party slowly wended its way toward the colonel's cabin Jim
and Nell found themselves side by side. They had not exchanged a
word since the evening previous, when Jim had kissed her. Unable to
look at each other now, and finding speech difficult, they walked in
embarrassed silence.
"Doesn't Joe look splendid in his hunting suit?" asked Jim,
presently.
"I hadn't noticed. Yes; he looks well," replied Nell, carelessly.
She was too indifferent to be natural.
"Are you angry with him?"
"Certainly not.
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