“I am in favor of postponing the preaching for a few days.  I tell you I am afraid of Girty’s Indians, not for myself, but for these Christians whom we love so well.  I am afraid.”  Heckewelder’s face bore testimony to his anxious dread.

“You are our leader; we have but to obey,” said Edwards.  “Yet I think we owe it to our converts to stick to our work until we are forced by violence to desist.”

“Ah!  What form will that violence take?” cried Heckewelder, his face white.  “You cannot tell what these savages mean.  I fear!  I fear!”

“Listen, Heckewelder, you must remember we had this to go through once before,” put in Zeisberger earnestly.  “In ’78 Girty came down on us like a wolf on the fold.  He had not so many Indians at his beck and call as now; but he harangued for days, trying to scare us and our handful of Christians.  He set his drunken fiends to frighten us, and he failed.  We stuck it out and won.  He’s trying the same game.  Let us stand against him, and hold our services as usual.  We should trust in God!”

“Never give up!” cried Jim.

“Gentlemen, you are right; you shame me, even though I feel that I understand the situation and its dread possibilities better than any one of you.  Whatever befalls we’ll stick to our post.  I thank you for reviving the spirit in my cowardly heart.  We will hold the service to-day as usual and to make it more impressive, each shall address the congregation in turn.”

“And, if need be, we will give our lives for our Christians,” said Young, raising his pale face.

* * *

The deep mellow peals of the church bell awoke the slumbering echoes.  Scarcely had its melody died away in the forest when a line of Indians issued from the church and marched toward the maple grove.  Men, women, youths, maidens and children.

Glickhican, the old Delaware chief, headed the line.  His step was firm, his head erect, his face calm in its noble austerity.  His followers likewise expressed in their countenances the steadfastness of their belief.  The maidens’ heads were bowed, but with shyness, not fear.  The children were happy, their bright faces expressive of the joy they felt in the anticipation of listening to their beloved teachers.

This procession passed between rows of painted savages, standing immovable, with folded arms, and somber eyes.

No sooner had the Christians reached the maple grove, when from all over the clearing appeared hostile Indians, who took positions near the knoll where the missionaries stood.

Heckewelder’s faithful little band awaited him on the platform.  The converted Indians seated themselves as usual at the foot of the knoll.  The other savages crowded closely on both sides.  They carried their weapons, and maintained the same silence that had so singularly marked their mood of the last twenty-four hours.  No human skill could have divined their intention.  This coldness might be only habitual reserve, and it might be anything else.