Once before Nell had faced it, and fainted when its dread meaning grew clear to her.  But now she returned his gaze with one in which flashed lightning scorn, and repulsion, in which glowed a wonderful defiance.

The cruel face of this man, the boastful barbarity of his manner, the long, dark, bloody history which his presence recalled, was, indeed, terrifying without the added horror of his intent toward her, but now the self-forgetfulness of a true woman sustained her.

Girty and Deering backed out of the door.  Heckewelder closed it, and dropped the bar in place.

Nell fell over the table with a long, low gasp.  Then with one hand she lifted her skirt.  Benny walked from under it.  His big eyes were bright.  The young woman clasped him again in her arms.  Then she released him, and, laboring under intense excitement, ran to the window.

“There he goes!  Oh, the horrible beast!  If I only had a gun and could shoot!  Oh, if only I were a man!  I’d kill him.  To think of poor Kate!  Ah! he intends the same for me!”

Suddenly she fell upon the floor in a faint.  Mr. Wells and Jim lifted her on the bed beside Edwards, where they endeavored to revive her.  It was some moments before she opened her eyes.

Jim sat holding Nell’s hand.  Mr. Wells again bowed his head.  Zeisberger continued to whittle a stick, and Heckewelder paced the floor.  Christy stood by with every evidence of sympathy for this distracted group.  Outside the clamor increased.

“Just listen!” cried Heckewelder.  “Did you ever hear the like?  All drunk, crazy, fiendish!  They drank every drop of liquor the French traders had.  Curses on the vagabond dealers!  Rum has made these renegades and savages wild.  Oh! my poor, innocent Christians!”

Heckewelder leaned his head against the mantle-shelf.  He had broken down at last.  Racking sobs shook his frame.

“Are you all right again?” asked Jim of Nell.

“Yes.”

“I am going out, first to see Williamson, and then the Christians,” he said, rising very pale, but calm.

“Don’t go!” cried Heckewelder.  “I have tried everything.  It was all of no use.”

“I will go,” answered Jim.

“Yes, Jim, go,” whispered Nell, looking up into his eyes.  It was an earnest gaze in which a faint hope shone.

Jim unbarred the door and went out.

“Wait, I’ll go along,” cried Zeisberger, suddenly dropping his knife and stick.

As the two men went out a fearful spectacle met their eyes.  The clearing was alive with Indians.  But such Indians!  They were painted demons, maddened by rum.  Yesterday they had been silent; if they moved at all it had been with deliberation and dignity.  To-day they were a yelling, running, blood-seeking mob.

“Awful!  Did you ever see human beings like these?” asked Zeisberger.

“No, no!”

“I saw such a frenzy once before, but, of course, only in a small band of savages.  Many times have I seen Indians preparing for the war-path, in search of both white men and redskins.  They were fierce then, but nothing like this.  Every one of these frenzied fiends is honest.  Think of that!  Every man feels it his duty to murder these Christians.  Girty has led up to this by cunning, and now the time is come to let them loose.”