“Is there no hope of getting Kate back?”

“Hope?  None.  That villain is surrounded by his savages.  He’ll lie low now for a while.  I’ve heard of such deeds many a time, but it never before came so close home.  Kate Wells was a pure, loving Christian woman.  She’ll live an hour, a day, a week, perhaps, in that snake’s clutches, and then she’ll die.  Thank God!”

“Wetzel has gone on Girty’s trail.  I know that from his manner when he left us,” said Edwards.

“Wetzel may avenge her, but he can never save her.  It’s too late.  Hello—–­”

The exclamation was called forth by the appearance of Young, who entered with a rifle in his hands.

“George, where are you going with that gun?” asked Edwards, grasping his friend by the arm.

“I’m going after her,” answered George wildly.  He tottered as he spoke, but wrenched himself free from Dave.

“Come, George, listen, listen to reason,” interposed Heckewelder, laying hold of Young.  “You are frantic with grief now.  So are all of us.  But calm yourself.  Why, man, you’re a preacher, not a hunter.  You’d be lost, you’d starve in the woods before getting half way to the Indian town.  This is terrible enough; don’t make it worse by throwing your life away.  Think of us, your friends; think of your Indian pupils who rely so much on you.  Think of the Village of Peace.  We can pray, but we can’t prevent these border crimes.  With civilization, with the spread of Christianity, they will pass away.  Bear up under this blow for the sake of your work.  Remember we alone can check such barbarity.  But we must not fight.  We must sacrifice all that men hold dear, for the sake of the future.”

He took the rifle away from George, and led him back into the little, dark room.  Closing the door he turned to Jim and Dave.

“He is in a bad way, and we must carefully watch him for a few days.”

“Think of George starting out to kill Girty!” exclaimed Dave.  “I never fired a gun, but yet I’d go too.”

“So would we all, if we did as our hearts dictate,” retorted Heckewelder, turning fiercely upon Dave as if stung.  “Man! we have a village full of Christians to look after.  What would become of them?  I tell you we’ve all we can do here to outwit these border ruffians.  Simon Girty is plotting our ruin.  I heard it to-day from the Delaware runner who is my friend.  He is jealous of our influence, when all we desire is to save these poor Indians.  And, Jim, Girty has killed our happiness.  Can we ever recover from the misery brought upon us by poor Kate’s fate?”

The missionary raised his hand as if to exhort some power above.

“Curse the Girty’s!” he exclaimed in a sudden burst of uncontrollable passion.  “Having conquered all other obstacles, must we fail because of wicked men of our own race?  Oh, curse them!”

“Come,” he said, presently, in a voice which trembled with the effort he made to be calm.  “We’ll go in to Nellie.”