Colonel Williamson sowed the wind and others reaped the whirlwind. CHAPTER XIII. REAPING THE WHIRLWIND. A few days subsequent to the massacre of the Moravian Indians, Abe Moffat made his appearance at the village, and reported their slaughter. For days nothing else was referred to, and the minister, Edwards, was so heartbroken that he started at once and alone through the wilderness to satisfy himself of the full extent of horrors. The distance to the scene of the massacre was great, and it was a week’s journey to go and return; but an impetus, such as seldom influence the motives of any one, impelled him forward. He arrived upon the ground late at night. With a silent and cautious tread the divine emerged from the forest and walked through the stricken village. There was a faint moon overhead that threw a ghastly light upon the scene, and the ripple of the muddy Tuscarora, as it flowed darkly by, was the only sound that disturbed the solemn stillness. All at once, and unconsciously to himself, he came upon the edge of the pit containing the slaughtered bodies. At sight of the putrid Indians, piled promiscuously together, and rendered doubly woful by the moonlight streaming down upon them, a sudden faintness overcame him, and ere he could withdraw, he fainted and swooned away. He recovered in a few moments, and without trusting himself to look again, turned and disappeared in the forest. Late at night he started a fire against the dark trunk of a huge oak, and lay down to rest. The divine generally slept heavily; but the terrible sight which he had so lately witnessed still haunted him in his dreams. He was feverish, and often uttered words that showed upon what his mind was constantly running. After a while he commenced dreaming. He saw the whole butchery again, as his terribly excited imagination conceived it, and finally it seemed that one of the Indians suddenly sprang up and brandished a tomahawk over his head. He possessed no power of moving, and finally awoke, covered with cold and perspiration. As he started up he found a portion of his dream a reality. In the dim moonlight the glowing eyeballs and gleaming visage of an Indian were visible close to his face. “Why, Wingenund, is that you? What is the matter that you look so?”