A few shrill halloes uttered by the first observers of the newcomers brought braves, maidens and children trooping toward the party with friendly curiosity.
Jonathan Zane stepped before a cabin adjoining the large structure, and called in at the open door.

A short, stoop-shouldered white man, clad in faded linsey, appeared on the threshold.

His serious, lined face had the unmistakable benevolent aspect peculiar to most teachers of the gospel.
"Mr.Zeisberger, I've fetched a party from Fort Henry," said Zane, indicating those he had guided.

Then, without another word, never turning his dark face to the right or left, he hurried down the lane through the throng of Indians.
Jim remembered, as he saw the guide vanish over the bank of the creek, that he had heard Colonel Zane say that Jonathan, as well as Wetzel, hated the sight of an Indian.

No doubt long years of war and bloodshed had rendered these two great hunters callous.