had deserted from Fort
Pitt. Jim Girty was not present. Upon nearing the encampment he had
taken his captive and disappeared in a ravine.

Shingiss, seldom in favor of drastic measures with prisoners,
eloquently urged initiating the brothers into the tribe. Several
other chiefs were favorably inclined, though not so positive as
Shingiss. Kotoxen was for the death penalty; the implacable Pipe for
nothing less than burning at the stake. Not one was for returning
the missionary to his Christian Indians. Girty and Elliott, though
requested to speak, maintained an ominous silence.

Wingenund strode with thoughtful mien before his council. He had
heard all his wise chiefs and his fiery warriors. Supreme was his
power. Freedom or death for the captives awaited the wave of his
hand. His impassive face gave not the slightest inkling of what to
expect. Therefore the prisoners were forced to stand there with
throbbing hearts while the chieftain waited the customary dignified
interval before addressing the council.

"Wingenund has heard the Delaware wise men and warriors. The white
Indian opens not his lips; his silence broods evil for the
palefaces. Pipe wants the blood of the white men; the Shawnee chief
demands the stake. Wingenund says free the white father who harms no
Indian. Wingenund hears no evil in the music of his voice. The white
father's brother should die. Kill the companion of Deathwind!"

A plaintive murmur, remarkable when coming from an assembly of
stern-browed chiefs, ran round the circle at the mention of the
dread appellation.

"The white father is free," continued Wingenund. "Let one of my
runners conduct him to the Village of Peace."

A brave entered and touched Jim on the shoulder.

Jim shook his head and pointed to Joe. The runner touched Joe.

"No, no. I am not the missionary," cried Joe, staring aghast at his
brother. "Jim, have you lost your senses?"

Jim sadly shook his head, and turning to Wingenund made known in a
broken Indian dialect that his brother was the missionary, and would
sacrifice himself, taking this opportunity to practice the
Christianity he had taught.

"The white father is brave, but he is known," broke in Wingenund's
deep voice, while he pointed to the door of the lodge. "Let him go
back to his Christian Indians."

The Indian runner cut Joe's bonds, and once more attempted to lead
him from the lodge. Rage and misery shown in the lad's face. He
pushed the runner aside. H