The Spirit of the Border
In the confusion the missionaries carried Young and Edwards into Mr. Wells' cabin.
Nell's calm, white face showed that she had expected some such catastrophe as this, but
she of all was the least excited. Heckewelder left them at the cabin and hurried away to
consult Captain Williamson. While Zeisberger, who was skilled in surgery, attended to
the wounded men, Jim barred the heavy door, shut the rude, swinging windows, and
made the cabin temporarily a refuge from prowling savages.
Outside the clamor increased. Shrill yells rent the air, long, rolling war-cries sounded
above all the din. The measured stamp of moccasined feet, the rush of Indians past the
cabin, the dull thud of hatchets struck hard into the trees--all attested to the excitement of
the savages, and the imminence of terrible danger.
In the front room of Mr. Wells' cabin Edwards lay on a bed, his face turned to the wall,
and his side exposed. There was a bloody hole in his white skin. Zeisberger was probing
for the bullet. He had no instruments, save those of his own manufacture, and they were
darning needles with bent points, and a long knife-blade ground thin.
"There, I have it," said Zeisberger. "Hold still, Dave. There!" As Edwards moaned
Zeisberger drew forth the bloody bullet. "Jim, wash and dress this wound. It isn't bad.
Dave will be all right in a couple of days. Now I'll look at George."
Zeisberger hurried into the other room. Young lay with quiet face and closed eyes,
breathing faintly. Zeisberger opened the wounded man's shirt and exposed the wound,
which was on the right side, rather high up. Nell, who had followed Zeisberger that she
might be of some assistance if needed, saw him look at the wound and then turn a pale
face away for a second. That hurried, shuddering movement of the sober, practical
missionary was most significant. Then he bent over Young and inserted on of the probes
into the wound. He pushed the steel an inch, two, three, four inches into Young's breast,
but the latter neither moved nor moaned. Zeisberger shook his head, and finally removed
the instrument. He raised the sufferer's shoulder to find the bed saturated with blood. The
bullet wound extended completely through the missionary's body, and was bleeding from
the back. Zeisberger folded strips of linsey cloth into small pads and bound them tightly
over both apertures of the wound.
"How is he?" asked Jim, when the amateur surgeon returned to the other room, and
proceeded to wash the blood from his hands.
Zeisberger shook his head gloomily.
"How is George?" whispered Edwards, who had heard Jim's question.
"Shot through the right lung. Human skill can not aid him! Only God can save."