and spoke to them in their own language, the Indians, without
suspicion of danger came across the river. The moment the first canoe
struck the shore, Wells heard the clicking of the locks of his
comrades' rifles, as they prepared to shoot the Indians. But who
should be in the canoe, but his Indian father, mother, and their
children! As his comrades were coming forward with their rifles
cocked, ready to pour in the deadly storm, Wells called upon them to
hold their hands. He then informed them who the Indians were, and
solemnly declared, that the man who would attempt to injure one of
them should receive a ball in his head. He continued, "That family fed
me when I was hungry, clothed me when I was naked, and kindly nursed
me when I was sick. In every respect they were as kind and
affectionate to me as they were to their own children. No one
belonging to them shall be hurt." But four men were with the Indian
party, and they did not attempt hostility. The short, pathetic speech
of Captain Wells found its way to the hearts of his comrades. They
entered into his feelings, threw down their rifles and tomahawks, went
to the canoe, and shook hands with the trembling Indians in the most
friendly manner.

Captain Wells assured the red men that they had nothing to fear from
him, and after talking with them to dispel their dread, he said, that
General Wayne was approaching with an overwhelming force; that the
best thing that the Indians could do was to make peace; that the white
men did not wish to continue the war. He urged his Indian father to
keep out of danger for the future. The Indians appeared very grateful
for his clemency. After the captain bade them farewell, they pushed
off their canoe, and went down the river as fast as they could paddle.

Wells's conduct on this occasion proved him to be as generous as he