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Grey, Zane, 1872-1939

"The Spirit of the Border"

"
"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 camp-fires, but there was an absence of
the curiosity that had characterized the former sojourns of Indians
at the peaceful village.


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