Virginia, in the solitude of the wigwam, full of bitter thoughts, and
mourning, silently, over the hard fortune that had befallen her, was
surprised by the entrance of a female form.
Looking up in astonishment, she beheld Kate.
A cry of joy came from the lips of the hopeless girl. In Kate she
beheld a friend!
A warning gesture from the Kanawha Queen checked Virginia’s utterance,
and the words of welcome died away upon her lips.
“Be careful, lady,” said Kate, warningly; “a loud word to betray to
other ears that we know each other, and both of us are lost.”
“Oh! it is so hard to keep back the joy that struggles to my lips,”
murmured Virginia; “your presence here seems like a ray of sunlight
beaming full upon the dark pathway through which runs the current of my
life. Your face gives me life and hope.”
Kate gazed into the upturned face of the fair girl with a mournful
smile.
“You are in great danger, lady,” she said, slowly.
“Oh, I know that!” cried Virginia, quickly. “I am a prisoner in the
hands of the merciless red-men.”
“Yes, a prisoner in the hands of one who is more merciless than any
painted savage that roams the valley of the Ohio. A man whose skin is
white but whose heart is red,” said Kate, mournfully.
Virginia gazed at Kate in wonder.
“In Heaven’s name, of whom do you speak?” she asked.
“Of one to whom the hungry wolf is a lamb; of one who knows neither
fear nor pity. A white Indian; an outcast from his country and his
race.”
Virginia shuddered at the terrible words.
“A renegade?”
“Yes; you are a prisoner in his hands, not the captive of the Shawnees.
Far better were it for you if the red Indians held your fate in their
hands,” Kate said, impressively.
“And the name of this man?”
“Simon Girty.”
Virginia’s heart sunk within her as the name of the dreaded renegade
fell upon her ears.
“Oh, Heaven help me, then!” she murmured, “for I am in terrible peril.”
“Yes, you are right,” said Kate, quickly; “you are in peril. A miracle
alone can save you.”
“Where am I?” Virginia asked.
“In the village of Chillicothe.”
“Among the Shawnees!”
“Yes; this is the village of their great chief, Ke-ne-ha-ha.”
“I have heard my father speak of him,” Virginia said, thoughtfully. “He
bears a deadly hatred to the whites.”
“Yes; he has sworn to drive the pale-faces back from the Ohio. Even now
the savages are arming and preparing for the fight.”
“Then my father and friends will be in danger!” cried Virginia.
“What is their danger compared to yours?” asked Kate.
“Yes, that is true,” said Virginia, mournfully, “but, for the moment,
the thought of their peril made me forget my own helpless situation.”
“Have you ever seen this man--Girty?”
“No.”
“You do not know, then, why he has selected you for his victim?”
“No,” again Virginia replied.
“Strange,” said Kate, thoughtfully. “I cannot understand it. He must
have some motive in entrapping you from your home and friends and
bringing you here.”
“I will tell you all the particulars.”
Then Virginia told the story of her abduction.
Kate listened attentively.
The story puzzled her. She could not understand the double abduction.
“Have you no suspicion as to who this man is that pretended to rescue
you from your first captors, but in reality led you into the hands of
the second party?”
“No,” Virginia said.
“The false guide was Simon Girty.”
Virginia uttered a sharp cry as though she had received a terrible
wound.
“For Heaven’s sake be silent or it will cost us both our lives!” cried
Kate, quickly and with great caution.
“I will not offend again,” murmured Virginia, the big tears beginning
to well slowly from her lustrous brown eyes. “But I have such a
terrible weight pressing upon my heart. I feel that I am utterly lost.”
“No, do not despair; there may still be a chance to escape from the
toils that surround you.”
“Oh! show me some way to escape and I will go down on my knees and
thank you!” cried Virginia Treveling, earnestly.
“I do not ask that,” said Kate, with a mournful expression in her dark
eyes.
“But how is it that you are here in the Indian village? Are you a
prisoner, too?” asked Virginia, suddenly.
“No,” replied Kate, her eyes seeking the ground.
“I cannot understand,” said Virginia, in wonder.
“Do you not remember who and what I am?” asked Kate, a tinge of
bitterness perceptible in her tones. “Am I not Kate, the Queen of the
Kanawha, the daughter of the pale-faced Indian, David Kendrick, the
renegade?”
“Yes, yes, I remember now,” said Virginia: “I ask your pardon if my
question has given you pain. I did not intend or think to wound you.”
“Do not fear. I have heard too many bitter speeches in my short life to
be galled now by a chance word. I cannot be wounded by a random shot.
I am the daughter of a renegade; all the world knows it. It would be
useless to deny the truth. I must bear patiently the stain that my
birth and my father’s deeds have fixed upon me. I cannot cast aside
the shame that clings to me and through no act of mine. All the world
despises me. Is it not enough to make me hate all the world?”
“No,” said Virginia, softly, “you are not to blame for the deeds of
others. Live so that your life shall be a telling reproof to those
who would blame you for the acts of your father. I do not think any
the worse of you because you are the daughter of David Kendrick, the
renegade. No, I rather pity you. I told you so when first we met in the
ravine near Point Pleasant, and I repeat the words, now that I am here
a captive in the hands of my enemies.”
“Oh, lady, you have the heart of an angel!” cried Kate earnestly.
“No, I am only a poor weak girl in deadly peril,” said Virginia, simply.
“Lady, I will try and save you from the danger that surrounds you!”
cried Kate, impulsively.
“You will?” murmured Virginia, her face lighting up with joy.
“Yes; can you guess why I am here?”
“No,” Virginia replied, in wonder.
“I am placed here by Girty to watch you.”
“To watch me?”
“Yes, so that you can not escape from the toils that his cunning has
drawn around you.”
“And you will break faith with him and save me?” asked Virginia,
anxiously.
“Yes.”
“Heaven will surely bless you for the act!” cried Virginia, quickly.
“Perhaps I may need that blessing,” said Kate, earnestly.
“I am sure that you do not!” exclaimed Virginia, impulsively. “I read
in your face that your heart is good and noble, and I am sure that your
face does not deceive me.”
“I will try and keep faith with you. I have promised one who loves you
dearly, that, if you were within a hundred miles of the Ohio, neither
swamp nor wood, house nor wigwam should hide you from me. I have kept
that promise and have found you. But one more task remains for me to
do and that is, to save you from the perils that now surround you, and
give you safe and unharmed into his arms.”
Virginia listened with wonder to this strange speech.
“One who loves me dearly?”
“Yes, better far, I think, than he does his own life.”
“I can not understand,” said Virginia, bewildered.
“Is there not some one whom you love? One who holds your plighted
faith?” asked Kate.
“There _was_ one,” and as Virginia spoke, the tears came slowly
into her eyes. Back to her memory came the scene in the ravine. In
imagination she felt again the warm, passionate kiss of the man she
loved so well; then, an instant after, saw him stretched bleeding and
senseless upon the earth at her feet.
“There _is_ one now. You speak of Harvey Winthrop?”
“Yes!” cried Virginia, almost breathlessly.
“He is living.”
“_Living?_”
“Yes.”
Virginia sprung to her feet, her face flushed with joy.
“Oh! and I have mourned him as one lost to me forever.”
“By a happy chance I discovered him in the ravine, helpless. Then I
carried him to my cabin and he is there now.”
“Is he wounded dangerously?” Virginia asked, the color forsaking her
cheeks as she thought of the illness of her lover.
“No, only a flesh wound,” Kate answered. “In a few days he will be
well again. He told me that you were his plighted wife, and I promised
him that I would find you if you were living and upon the earth. But I
little expected, though, to find you a captive in the Shawnee village.”
“Can you save me from the terrible danger that surrounds me?” Virginia
asked, anxiously.
“At least I can try. Heaven alone knows whether the attempt will be
successful or not,” replied Kate, earnestly.
“Oh, my heart sinks within me when I think of the many miles that
intervene between me and my kindred. I fear I shall never see Point
Pleasant again. How can we make our way through the trackless
wilderness, the home of the wild beast and the red savage?” Virginia
asked, in sorrow.
“Do not fear; to me the wilderness is like an open book. Not a path
between here and the Ohio that I do not know as well in the darkness as
in the light. Trust to me, and if human aid is of avail you shall be
saved.”
Then, with a gesture of caution, Kate left the lodge.