a
prominent place in the settlers' short list of pleasures.
Joe watched the proceeding with the same pleasure and surprise he
had felt in everything pertaining to border life.
To him this log-raising appeared the hardest kind of labor. Yet it
was plain these hardy men, these low-voiced women, and merry
children regarded the work as something far more significant than
the mere building of a cabin. After a while he understood the
meaning of the scene. A kindred spirit, the spirit of the pioneer,
drew them all into one large family. This was another cabin; another
home; another advance toward the conquering of the wilderness, for
which these brave men and women were giving their lives. In the
bright-eyed children's glee, when they clapped their little hands at
the mounting logs, Joe saw the progress, the march of civilization.
"Well, I'm sorry you're to leave us to-night," remarked Colonel Zane
to Joe, as the young man came over to where he, his wife, and sister
watched the work. "Jonathan said all was ready for your departure at
sundown."
"Do we travel by night?"
"Indeed, yes, my lad. There are Indians everywhere on the river. I
think, however, with Jack and Lew handling the paddles, you will
slip by safely. The plan is to keep along the south shore all night;
then cross over at a place called Girty's Point, where you are to
remain in hiding during daylight. From there you paddle up Yellow
Creek; then portage across country to the head of the Tuscarwawas.
Another night's journey will then bring you to the Village of
Peace."
Jim and Mr. Wells, with his nieces, joined the party now, and all
stood watching as the last logs were put in place.
"Colonel Zane, my first log-raising is an education to me," said the
young minister, in his earnest manner. "This scene is so full of
life. I never saw such goodwill among laboring men. Look at that
brawny-armed giant standing on the topmost log. How he whistles as
he swings his ax! Mr. Wells, does it not impress you?"
"The pioneers must be brothers because of their isolation and peril;
to be brothers means to love one another; to love one another is to
love God. What you see in this fraternity is God. And I want to see
this same beautiful feeling among the Indians."
"I have seen it," said Colonel Zane, to the old missionary. "When I
came out here alone twelve years ago the Indians were peaceable. If
the pioneers had paid for land, as I paid Cornplanter, there would
never have been a border war. But no; the settlers must grasp every
acre they could. Then the Indians rebelled; then the Girtys and
their allies spread discontent, and now the border is a bloody
warpath."
"Have the Jesuit missionaries accomplished anything with these war
tribes?" inquired Jim.
"No; their work has been chiefly among the Indians near Detroit and
northward. The Hurons, Delawares, Shawnees and other western tribes
have been demoralized by the French traders' rum, and incited to
fierce hatred by Girty and his renegades. Your work at Gnaddenhutten
must be among these hostile tribes, and it is surely a hazardous
undertaking."
"My life is God's," murmured the old minister. No fear could assail
his steadfast faith.
"Jim, it strikes me you'd be more likely to impress these Indians
Colonel Zane spoke of if you'd get a suit like mine and wear a knife
and tomahawk," interposed Joe, cheerfully. "Then, if you couldn't
convert, you could scalp them."
"Well, well, let us hope for the best," said Colonel Zane, when the
laughter had subsided. "We'll go over to dinner now. Come, all of
you. Jonathan, bring Wetzel. Betty, make him come, if you can."
As the party slowly wended its way toward the colonel's cabin Jim
and Nell found themselves side by side. They had not exchanged a
word since the evening previous, when Jim had kissed her. Unable to
look at each other now, and finding speech difficult, they walked in
embarrassed silence.
"Doesn't Joe look splendid in his hunting suit?" asked Jim,
presently.
"I hadn't
prominent place in the settlers' short list of pleasures.
Joe watched the proceeding with the same pleasure and surprise he
had felt in everything pertaining to border life.
To him this log-raising appeared the hardest kind of labor. Yet it
was plain these hardy men, these low-voiced women, and merry
children regarded the work as something far more significant than
the mere building of a cabin. After a while he understood the
meaning of the scene. A kindred spirit, the spirit of the pioneer,
drew them all into one large family. This was another cabin; another
home; another advance toward the conquering of the wilderness, for
which these brave men and women were giving their lives. In the
bright-eyed children's glee, when they clapped their little hands at
the mounting logs, Joe saw the progress, the march of civilization.
"Well, I'm sorry you're to leave us to-night," remarked Colonel Zane
to Joe, as the young man came over to where he, his wife, and sister
watched the work. "Jonathan said all was ready for your departure at
sundown."
"Do we travel by night?"
"Indeed, yes, my lad. There are Indians everywhere on the river. I
think, however, with Jack and Lew handling the paddles, you will
slip by safely. The plan is to keep along the south shore all night;
then cross over at a place called Girty's Point, where you are to
remain in hiding during daylight. From there you paddle up Yellow
Creek; then portage across country to the head of the Tuscarwawas.
Another night's journey will then bring you to the Village of
Peace."
Jim and Mr. Wells, with his nieces, joined the party now, and all
stood watching as the last logs were put in place.
"Colonel Zane, my first log-raising is an education to me," said the
young minister, in his earnest manner. "This scene is so full of
life. I never saw such goodwill among laboring men. Look at that
brawny-armed giant standing on the topmost log. How he whistles as
he swings his ax! Mr. Wells, does it not impress you?"
"The pioneers must be brothers because of their isolation and peril;
to be brothers means to love one another; to love one another is to
love God. What you see in this fraternity is God. And I want to see
this same beautiful feeling among the Indians."
"I have seen it," said Colonel Zane, to the old missionary. "When I
came out here alone twelve years ago the Indians were peaceable. If
the pioneers had paid for land, as I paid Cornplanter, there would
never have been a border war. But no; the settlers must grasp every
acre they could. Then the Indians rebelled; then the Girtys and
their allies spread discontent, and now the border is a bloody
warpath."
"Have the Jesuit missionaries accomplished anything with these war
tribes?" inquired Jim.
"No; their work has been chiefly among the Indians near Detroit and
northward. The Hurons, Delawares, Shawnees and other western tribes
have been demoralized by the French traders' rum, and incited to
fierce hatred by Girty and his renegades. Your work at Gnaddenhutten
must be among these hostile tribes, and it is surely a hazardous
undertaking."
"My life is God's," murmured the old minister. No fear could assail
his steadfast faith.
"Jim, it strikes me you'd be more likely to impress these Indians
Colonel Zane spoke of if you'd get a suit like mine and wear a knife
and tomahawk," interposed Joe, cheerfully. "Then, if you couldn't
convert, you could scalp them."
"Well, well, let us hope for the best," said Colonel Zane, when the
laughter had subsided. "We'll go over to dinner now. Come, all of
you. Jonathan, bring Wetzel. Betty, make him come, if you can."
As the party slowly wended its way toward the colonel's cabin Jim
and Nell found themselves side by side. They had not exchanged a
word since the evening previous, when Jim had kissed her. Unable to
look at each other now, and finding speech difficult, they walked in
embarrassed silence.
"Doesn't Joe look splendid in his hunting suit?" asked Jim,
presently.
"I hadn't
Similar Books
