“I’d like to have been here when these were made,” he said.

“Well, at the time I wished I was back on the Potomac,” replied Colonel Zane.

They found the old missionary on the doorstep of the adjacent cabin.  He appeared discouraged when Colonel Zane interrogated him, and said that he was impatient because of the delay.

“Mr. Wells, is it not possible that you underrate the danger of your enterprise?”

“I fear naught but the Lord,” answered the old man.

“Do you not fear for those with you?” went on the colonel earnestly.  “I am heart and soul with you in your work, but want to impress upon you that the time is not propitious.  It is a long journey to the village, and the way is beset with dangers of which you have no idea.  Will you not remain here with me for a few weeks, or, at least, until my scouts report?”

“I thank you; but go I will.”

“Then let me entreat you to remain here a few days, so that I may send my brother Jonathan and Wetzel with you.  If any can guide you safely to the Village of Peace it will be they.”

At this moment Joe saw two men approaching from the fort, and recognized one of them as Wetzel.  He doubted not that the other was Lord Dunmore’s famous guide and hunter, Jonathan Zane.  In features he resembled the colonel, and was as tall as Wetzel, although not so muscular or wide of chest.

Joe felt the same thrill he had experienced while watching the frontiersmen at Fort Pitt.  Wetzel and Jonathan spoke a word to Colonel Zane and then stepped aside.  The hunters stood lithe and erect, with the easy, graceful poise of Indians.

“We’ll take two canoes, day after to-morrow,” said Jonathan, decisively, to Colonel Zane.  “Have you a rifle for Wetzel?  The Delawares got his.”

Colonel Zane pondered over the question; rifles were not scarce at the fort, but a weapon that Wetzel would use was hard to find.

“The hunter may have my rifle,” said the old missionary.  “I have no use for a weapon with which to destroy God’s creatures.  My brother was a frontiersman; he left this rifle to me.  I remember hearing him say once that if a man knew exactly the weight of lead and powder needed, it would shoot absolutely true.”

He went into the cabin, and presently came out with a long object wrapped in linsey cloths.  Unwinding the coverings, he brought to view a rifle, the proportions of which caused Jonathan’s eyes to glisten, and brought an exclamation from Colonel Zane.  Wetzel balanced the gun in his hands.  It was fully six feet long; the barrel was large, and the dark steel finely polished; the stock was black walnut, ornamented with silver trimmings.  Using Jonathan’s powder-flask and bullet-pouch, Wetzel proceeded to load the weapon.  He poured out a quantity of powder into the palm of his hand, performing the action quickly and dexterously, but was so slow while measuring it that Joe wondered if he were counting the grains.