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The missionaries called themselves United Brethren; to outsiders they were known as Moravians. Loskiel, "History of the Mission of the United Brethren," London, 1794. Heckewelder, "Narrative of the Mission of the United Brethren," Phil., 1820.
I'll never forget them. They made me sick; they paralyzed me. It wasn't an Indian's face. It belonged to that white man, that awful white man! I never saw him before; but I knew him." "Girty!" said Heckewelder, who had come in with his quiet step. "He looked in at the window. Calm yourself, Nellie. The renegade has gone."
The old missionary, with bowed head and hands clasped behind his back, was pacing to and fro. He greeted Jim with glad surprise. "We want Nellie to see him," whispered Heckewelder. "We think the surprise will do her good." "I trust it may," said Mr. Wells. "Leave it to me." They followed Heckewelder into an adjoining room.
"Nellie," he called softly, but only a faint flickering of her lashes answered him. "Nellie, Nellie," repeated Heckewelder, his deep, strong voice thrilling. Her eyes opened. They gazed at Mr. Wells on one side, at Edwards standing at the foot of the bed, at Heckewelder leaning over her, but there was no recognition or interest in her look.
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.
What can they do?" cried Heckewelder, bitterly. "I tell you never before have I encountered such gloomy, stony Indians. It seems to me that they are in no vacillating state. They act like men whose course is already decided upon, and who are only waiting." "For what?" asked Jim, after a long silence. "God only knows!
"Will you let me speak to your men, to try and get them to follow me?" "Heckewelder asked that same thing. He was persistent, and I took a vote fer him just to show how my men stood. Eighteen of them said they'd follow him; the rest wouldn't interfere." "Eighteen! My God!" cried Jim, voicing the passion which consumed him.
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. Heckewelder approached at the same time that Simon Girty and his band of renegades appeared. With the renegades were Pipe and Half King.
Says Heckewelder, the Moravian missionary, "They sew together as many of these skins as are necessary, carefully setting the hair or fur all the same way, so that the blanket or covering be smooth, and the rain do not penetrate, but run off." In the later days, however, the beaver proved to be more of a curse than a blessing.
This good news more than offsets the bad. I am sorry about your brother. Are you well?" "Well, but miserable. I want to see Nell. Dave tells me she is not exactly ill, but something is wrong with her. Perhaps I ought not to see her just yet." "It'll be exactly the tonic for her," replied Heckewelder. "She'll be surprised out of herself.
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