Her eyes met his. Through her tears shone
faintly a light, which, but for the agony that made it dim, would
have beamed radiant.
"Find the place," said Mr. Wells, handing Jim a Bible. It was the
one he always carried in his pocket.
With trembling hand Jim turned the leaves. At last he found the
lines, and handed the book back to the old man.
Simple, sweet and sad was that marriage service. Nell and Jim knelt
with hands clasped over Mr. Wells. The old missionary's voice was
faint; Nell's responses were low, and Jim answered with deep and
tender feeling. Beside them stood Wingenund, a dark, magnificent
figure.
"There! May God bless you!" murmured Mr. Wells, with a happy smile,
closing the Bible.
"Nell, my wife!" whispered Jim, kissing her hand.
"Come!" broke in Wingenund's voice, deep, strong, like that of a
bell.
Not one of them had observed the chief as he stood erect,
motionless, poised like a stag scenting the air. His dark eyes
seemed to pierce the purple-golden forest, his keen ear seemed to
drink in the singing of the birds and the gentle rustling of leaves.
Native to these haunts as were the wild creatures, they were no
quicker than the Indian to feel the approach of foes. The breeze had
borne faint, suspicious sounds.
"Keep--the--Bible," said Mr. Wells, "remember--its--word.
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