“Wuss’n foolish,” answered Wetzel.

“Look!  By gum!  As I’m a livin’ sinner there comes the whole crowd of hostile redskins.  They’ve got their guns, and—­by Gum! they’re painted.  Looks bad, bad!  Not much friendliness about that bunch!”

“They ain’t intendin’ to be peaceable.”

“By gum!  You’re right.  There ain’t one of them settin’ down.  ’Pears to me I know some of them redskins.  There’s Pipe, sure enough, and Kotoxen.  By gum!  If there ain’t Shingiss; he was friendly once.”

“None of them’s friendly.”

“Look!  Lew, look!  Right behind Pipe.  See that long war-bonnet.  As I’m a born sinner, that’s your old friend, Wingenund.  ’Pears to me we’ve rounded up all our acquaintances.”

The two bordermen lay close under the tall ferns and watched the proceedings with sharp eyes.  They saw the converted Indians seat themselves before the platform.  The crowd of hostile Indians surrounded the glade on all sides, except on, which, singularly enough, was next to the woods.

“Look thar!” exclaimed Wetzel, under his breath.  He pointed off to the right of the maple glade.  Jonathan gazed in the direction indicated, and saw two savages stealthily slipping through the bushes, and behind trees.  Presently these suspicious acting spies, or scouts, stopped on a little knoll perhaps an hundred yards from the glade.

Wetzel groaned.

“This ain’t comfortable,” growled Zane, in a low whisper.  “Them red devils are up to somethin’ bad.  They’d better not move round over here.”

The hunters, satisfied that the two isolated savages meant mischief, turned their gaze once more toward the maple grove.

“Ah!  Simon you white traitor!  See him, Lew, comin’ with his precious gang,” said Jonathan.  “He’s got the whole thing fixed, you can plainly see that.  Bill Elliott, McKee; and who’s that renegade with Jim Girty?  I’ll allow he must be the fellar we heard was with the Chippewas.  Tough lookin’ customer; a good mate fer Jim Girty!  A fine lot of border-hawks!”

“Somethin’ comin’ off,” whispered Wetzel, as Zane’s low growl grew unintelligible.

Jonathan felt, rather than saw, Wetzel tremble.

“The missionaries are consultin’.  Ah! there comes one!  Which?  I guess it’s Edwards.  By gum! who’s that Injun stalkin’ over from the hostile bunch.  Big chief, whoever he is.  Blest if it ain’t Half King!”

The watchers saw the chief wave his arm and speak with evident arrogance to Edwards, who, however, advanced to the platform and raised his hand to address the Christians.

“Crack!”

A shot rang out from the thicket.  Clutching wildly at his breast, the missionary reeled back, staggered, and fell.

“One of those skulkin’ redskins has killed Edwards,” said Zane.  “But, no; he’s not dead!  He’s gettin’ up.  Mebbe he ain’t hurt bad.  By gum! there’s Young comin’ forward.  Of all the fools!”