don't care who they are. Drunken ruffians and savages! That's
enough. Will you help us? We are men of your own race, and we come
to you for help. Can you withhold it?"

"I won't hev nuthin' to do with this bizness. The chiefs hev
condemned the village, an' it'll hev to go. If you fellars hed been
careful, no white blood would hev been spilled. I advise you all to
lay low till it's over."

"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. "You are white men, yet you will stand by and see these
innocent people murdered! Man, where's your humanity? Your manhood?
These converted Indians are savages no longer, they are Christians.
Their children are as good, pure, innocent as your own. Can you
remain idle and see these little ones murdered?"

Williamson made no answer, the men who had crowded round were
equally silent. Not one lowered his head. Many looked at the
impassioned missionary; others gazed at the savages who were
circling around the trees brandishing their weapons. If any pitied
the unfortunate Christians, none showed it. They were indifferent,
with the indifference of men hardened to cruel scenes.

Jim understood, at last, as he turned from face to face to find
everywhere that same imperturbability. These bordermen were like
Wetzel and Jonathan Zane. The only good Indian was a dead Indian.
Years of war and bloodshed, of merciless cruelty at the hands of
redmen, of the hard, border life had rendered these frontiersmen
incapable of compassion for any savage.

Jim no longer restrained himself.

"Bordermen you may be, but from my standpoint, from any man's, from
God's, you are a lot of coldly indifferent cowards!" exclaimed Jim,
with white, quivering lips. "I understand now. Few of you will risk
anything for Indians. You will not believe a savage can be a
Christian. You don't care if they are all murdered. Any man among
you--any man, I say--would step out before those howling fiends and
boldly demand that there be no bloodshed. A courageous leader with a
band of determined followers could avert this tragedy. You might
readily intimidate yonder horde of drunken demons. Captain
Williamson, I am only a minister, far removed from a man of