aint and rushed upon the war-path, the missionaries were
wise enough to leave them alone and keep out of the way until the
tempest had passed.

War was coming again, of that there could be no doubt, and on its
threshold, at its very opening, Wa-on-mon, the tiger-like chief, known
even among his own people as The Panther, had been subjected to an
indignity at the hands of the pale-faces, such as in his life had never
been put upon him before. He had been flung down, struck repeatedly,
bound and kept a prisoner for many hours.

Then escaping by the usual weapon of the red man--treachery--he had laid
a cunning ambuscade for the destruction of the large party of pioneers
and rangers. The scheme had miscarried, and several of the foremost of
the Shawanoe warriors had fallen before their deadly fire.

The only panacea for this terrific chagrin was the capture of the single
small child attached to the families of the settlers. She, the tender
little flower, had been plucked by the merciless chieftain, and none
knew better than he what sweet revenge could be secured through her upon
the older ones.

Yes; she was in his power, and it was beyond the ability of any one to
take her from him.

And lo! at this moment, the man who preached humility and love and
gentleness and forgiveness of enemies was on the way to the camp of The
Panther to ask him to return the captive to her friends.

Missionary Finley did not need to be reminded of all this, and it must
be confessed that he would not have ventured upon the attempt, so utter
did he consider its hopelessness, but for an extraordinary suggestion
that Daniel Boone whispered in his ear.

This suggestion foreshadowed a complication, as among the possibilities,
from which a diversion might be created in favor of little Mabel
Ashbridge; but the possibility was so remote that the missionary did not
deem it right to awaken false hopes in the hearts of the parents and
brother by making known the scheme that had taken shape in the most
veteran of all pioneers.

Aside from all this was the fearful risk run personally by Finley, in
thus venturing into the hostile camp while, as may be said, the echoes
of the rifle shots were still lingering among the trees. The chances
were that, from The Panther down, there was not one who would not shoot
the missionary the instant he could draw bead on him.

But this was a feature of the business that gave Finley the least
concern. It must not be