Finally Jim went to consult Glickhican.  He found the Delaware at work in the potato patch.  The old Indian dropped his hoe and bowed to the missionary.  A reverential and stately courtesy always characterized the attitude of the Indians toward the young white father.

“Glickhican, can you tell me why no Indians have come here lately?”

The old chief shook his head.

“Does their absence signify ill to the Village of Peace?”

“Glickhican saw a blackbird flitting in the shadow of the moon.  The bird hovered above the Village of Peace, but sang no song.”

The old Delaware vouchsafed no other than this strange reply.

Jim returned to his cabin decidedly worried.  He did not at all like Glickhican’s answer.  The purport of it seemed to be that a cloud was rising on the bright horizon of the Christian village.  He confided his fears to Young and Edwards.  After discussing the situation, the three missionaries decided to send for Heckewelder.  He was the leader of the Mission; he knew more of Indian craft than any of them, and how to meet it.  If this calm in the heretofore busy life of the Mission was the lull before a storm, Heckewelder should be there with his experience and influence.

“For nearly ten years Heckewelder has anticipated trouble from hostile savages,” said Edwards, “but so far he has always averted it.  As you know, he has confined himself mostly to propitiating the Indians, and persuading them to be friendly, and listen to us.  We’ll send for him.”

Accordingly they dispatched a runner to Goshocking.  In due time the Indian returned with the startling news that Heckewelder had left the Indian village days before, as had, in fact, all the savages except the few converted ones.  The same held true in the case of Sandusky, the adjoining town.  Moreover, it had been impossible to obtain any news in regard to Zeisberger.

The missionaries were now thoroughly alarmed, and knew not what to do.  They concealed the real state of affairs from Nell and her uncle, desiring to keep them from anxiety as long as possible.  That night the three teachers went to bed with heavy hearts.

The following morning at daybreak, Jim was awakened from a sound sleep by some one calling at his window.  He got up to learn who it was, and, in the gray light, saw Edwards standing outside.

“What’s the matter?” questioned Jim, hurriedly.

“Matter enough.  Hurry.  Get into your clothes,” replied Edwards.  “As soon as you are dressed, quietly awaken Mr. Wells and Nellie, but do not frighten them.”

“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.