"Would you kill a Christian?" pleaded Nell, her voice sweet and
earnest.
"I reckon not, but this Injun ain't one," replied Wetzel slowly.
"Put away your hatchet. Let me have it. Listen, and I will tell you,
after thanking you for this rescue. Do you know of my marriage?
Come, please listen! Forget for a moment your enmity. Oh! you must
be merciful! Brave men are always merciful!"
"Injun, are you a Christian?" hissed Wetzel.
"Oh! I know he is! I know he is!" cried Nell, still standing between
Wetzel and the chief.
Wingenund spoke no word. He did not move. His falcon eyes gazed
tranquilly at his white foe. Christian or pagan, he would not speak
one word to save his life.
"Oh! tell him you are a Christian," cried Nell, running to the
chief.
"Yellow-hair, the Delaware is true to his race."
As he spoke gently to Nell a noble dignity shone upon his dark face.
"Injun, my back bears the scars of your braves' whips," hissed
Wetzel, once more advancing.
"Deathwind, your scars are deep, but the Delaware's are deeper,"
came the calm reply. "Wingenund's heart bears two scars. His son
lies under the moss and ferns; Deathwind killed him; Deathwind alone
knows his grave. Wingenund's daughter, the delight of his waning
years, freed the Delaware's great foe, and betrayed her father.
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