ed Nell.

"And the missionaries?" inquired Jim, earnestly.

"Were all well when I left, except, of course, Young. He was dying.
The others will remain out there, and try to get another hold, but I
fear it's impossible."

"It is impossible, not because the Indian does not want
Christianity, but because such white men as the Girty's rule. The
beautiful Village of Peace owes its ruin to the renegades," said
Colonel Zane impressively.

"Captain Williamson could have prevented the massacre," remarked
Jim.

"Possibly. It was a bad place for him, and I think he was wrong not
to try," declared the colonel.

"Hullo!" cried Jonathan Zane, getting up from the steps where he sat
listening to the conversation.

A familiar soft-moccasined footfall sounded on the path. All turned
to see Wetzel come slowly toward them. His buckskin hunting costume
was ragged and worn. He looked tired and weary, but the dark eyes
were calm.

It was the Wetzel whom they all loved.

They greeted him warmly. Nell gave him her hands, and smiled up at
him.

"I'm so glad you've come home safe," she said.

"Safe an' sound, lass, an' glad to find you well," answered the
hunter, as he leaned on his long rifle, looking from Nell to Colonel
Zane's sister. "Betty, I allus gave you first place among border
lasses, but here's one as could run you most any kind of a race," he
said, with the rare smile which so warmly lighted his dark, stern
face.

"Lew Wetzel making compliments! Well, of all things!" exclaimed the
colonel's sister.

Jonathan Zane stood closely scanning Wetzel's features. Colonel
Zane, observing his brother's close scrutiny of the hunter, guessed
the cause, and said:

"Lew, tell us, did you see Wingenund over the sights of your rifle?"

"Yes," answered the hunter simply.

A chill seemed to strike the hearts of the listeners. That simple
answer, coming from Wetzel, meant so much. Nell bowed her head
sadly. Jim turned away biting his lip. Christy looked across the
valley. Colonel Zane bent over and picked up some pebbles which he
threw hard at the cabin wall. Jonathan Zane abruptly left the group,
and went into the house.

But the colonel's sister fixed her large, black eyes on Wetzel's
face.

"Well?" she asked, and her voice rang.

Wetzel was silent for a moment. He met her eyes with that old,
inscrutable smile in his own. A slight shade flitted across his
face.

"Betty, I missed him," he said, calmly, and, shouldering his