The two hunters turned their stern faces toward the west, and passed
silently down the ridge into the depths of the forest. Darkness
found them within rifle-shot of the Village of Peace. With the dog
creeping between them, they crawled to a position which would, in
daylight, command a view of the clearing. Then, while one stood
guard, the other slept.
When morning dawned they shifted their position to the top of a low,
fern-covered cliff, from which they could see every movement in the
village. All the morning they watched with that wonderful patience
of men who knew how to wait. The visiting savages were quiet, the
missionaries moved about in and out of the shops and cabins; the
Christian indians worked industriously in the fields, while the
renegades lolled before a prominent teepee.
"This quiet looks bad," whispered Jonathan to Wetzel. No shouts were
heard; not a hostile Indian was seen to move.
"They've come to a decision," whispered Jonathan, and Wetzel
answered him:
"If they hev, the Christians don't know it."
An hour later the deep pealing of the church bell broke the silence.
The entire band of Christian Indians gathered near the large log
structure, and then marched in orderly form toward the maple grove
where the service was always held in pleasant weather.
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