“Ah, here’s Nellie and your brother!  Now, lads, tell me which is which?’

“That’s Jim, and I’m Joe,” answered the latter.  He appeared not to notice his brother, and his greeting to Nell was natural and hearty.  For the moment she drew the attention of the others from them.

Joe found himself listening to the congratulations of a number of people.  Among the many names he remembered were those of Mrs. Zane, Silas Zane, and Major McColloch.  Then he found himself gazing at the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his life.

“My only sister, Mrs. Alfred Clarke—­once Betty Zane, and the heroine of Fort Henry,” said Colonel Zane proudly, with his arm around the slender, dark-eyed girl.

“I would brave the Indians and the wilderness again for this pleasure,” replied Joe gallantly, as he bowed low over the little hand she cordially extended.

“Bess, is dinner ready?” inquired Colonel Zane of his comely wife.  She nodded her head, and the colonel led the way into the adjoining room.  “I know you boys must be hungry as bears.”

During the meal Colonel Zane questioned his guests about their journey, and as to the treatment they had received at the hands of the Indians.  He smiled at the young minister’s earnestness in regard to the conversion of the redmen, and he laughed outright when Joe said “he guessed he came to the frontier because it was too slow at home.”

“I am sure your desire for excitement will soon be satisfied, if indeed it be not so already,” remarked the colonel.  “But as to the realization of your brother’s hopes I am not so sanguine.  Undoubtedly the Moravian missionaries have accomplished wonders with the Indians.  Not long ago I visited the Village of Peace—­the Indian name for the mission—­and was struck by the friendliness and industry which prevailed there.  Truly it was a village of peace.  Yet it is almost to early to be certain of permanent success of this work.  The Indian’s nature is one hard to understand.  He is naturally roving and restless, which, however, may be owing to his habit of moving from place to place in search of good hunting grounds.  I believe—­though I must confess I haven’t seen any pioneers who share my belief—­that the savage has a beautiful side to his character.  I know of many noble deeds done by them, and I believe, if they are honestly dealt with, they will return good for good.  There are bad ones, of course; but the French traders, and men like the Girtys, have caused most of this long war.  Jonathan and Wetzel tell me the Shawnees and Chippewas have taken the warpath again.  Then the fact that the Girtys are with the Delawares is reason for alarm.  We have been comparatively quiet here of late.  Did you boys learn to what tribe your captors belong?  Did Wetzel say?”

“He did not; he spoke little, but I will say he was exceedingly active,” answered Joe, with a smile.

“To have seen Wetzel fight Indians is something you are not likely to forget,” said Colonel Zane grimly.  “Now, tell me, how did those Indians wear their scalp-lock?”