Edwards left the group, and, stepping upon the platform, faced the Christians.
At the same moment Half King stalked majestically from before his party. He carried no weapon save a black, knotted war-club. A surging forward of the crowd of savages behind him showed the intense interest which his action had aroused. He walked forward until he stood half way between the platform and the converts. He ran his evil glance slowly over the Christians, and then rested it upon Edwards.
"Half King's orders are to be obeyed. Let the paleface keep his mouth closed," he cried in the Indian tongue. The imperious command came as a thunderbolt from a clear sky. The missionaries behind Edwards stood bewildered, awaiting the outcome.
But Edwards, without a moment's hesitation, calmly lifted his hand and spoke.
"Beloved Christians, we meet to-day as we have met before, as we hope to meet in---"
"Spang!"
The whistling of a bullet over the heads of the Christians accompanied the loud report of a rifle. All presently plainly heard the leaden missile strike.
Edwards wheeled, clutching his side, breathed hard, and then fell heavily without uttering a cry. He had been shot by an Indian concealed in the thicket.
For a moment no one moved, nor spoke. the missionaries were stricken with horror; the converts seemed turned to stone, and the hostile throng waited silently, as they had for hours.
"He's shot! He's shot! Oh, I feared this!" cried Heckewelder, running forward.
The missionaries followed him. Edwards was lying on his back, with a bloody hand pressed to his side.
"Dave, Dave, how is it with you?" asked Heckewelder, in a voice low with fear.
"Not bad. It's too far out to be bad, but it knocked me over," answered Edwards, weakly. "Give me--water."
They carried him from the platform, and laid him on the grass under a tree.
Young pressed Edwards' hand; he murmured something that sounded like a prayer, and then walked straight upon the platform, as he raised his face, which was sublime with a white light.
"Paleface! Back!" roared Half King, as he waved his war-club.
"You Indian dog! Be silent!"
Young's clear voice rolled out on the quiet air so imperiously, so powerful in its wonderful scorn and passion, that the hostile savages were overcome by awe, and the Christians thrilled anew with reverential love.
Young spoke again in a voice which had lost its passion, and was singularly sweet in its richness.
"Beloved Christians, if it is God's will that we must die to prove our faith, then as we have taught you how to live, so we can show you how to die---"
"Spang!"
Again a whistling sound came with the bellow of an overcharged rifle; again the sickening thud of a bullet striking flesh.
Young fell backwards from the platform.
The missionaries laid him beside Edwards, and then stood in shuddering silence. A smile shone on Young's pale face; a stream of dark blood welled from his breast. His lips moved; he whispered:
"I ask no more--God's will."
Jim looked down once at his brother missionaries; then with blanched face, but resolute and stern, he marched toward the platform.
Heckewelder ran after him, and dragged him back.
"No! no! no! My God! Would you be killed? Oh! I tried to prevent this!" cried Heckewelder, wringing his hands.
