All was bustle in the Indian village, for word had gone forth to make
ready for the war-path! Gayly the braves donned the war-paint, and
sharpened the scalping-knives and glistening tomahawks.
Girty had been summoned to the lodge of Ke-ne-ha-ha.
The great chief of the Shawnee nation, smarting over his failure to
destroy the dreaded Wolf Demon, panted eagerly for the opportunity to
lead his warriors against the pale-faces.
Girty recounted to the chief all that he had learned regarding the
strength of the settlers--knowledge that he had gained in his recent
scout to the other side of the Ohio.
The chief listened with a gloomy brow. His plan to surprise the whites
had failed.
“Since we can not creep upon them like the fox, our attack shall be
like the swoop of the eagle,” Ke-ne-ha-ha said, at length.
“The chief will attack Point Pleasant first?” Girty asked.
“Yes; we will cross the Ohio above the pale-face lodges; then my
warriors shall form a circle around the long-knives, reaching from
river to river. The circle shall be a line of fire, breathing death to
the pale-face that dares to attempt to cross it.”
“And the expedition will move to-night?”
“Yes; I have dispatched my fleetest runners to my brothers, the
Wyandots and the Mingoes, telling them that the war-hatchet is dug
up, and that, like the storm cloud, the red-men are about to burst in
arrows of fire upon the pale-faces, and drive them from the land that
the Great Spirit gave to the Indian.”
“I will prepare at once for the expedition,” Girty said, in savage
glee, his soul gloating over the prospect of slaughter. Then he
withdrew from the wigwam.
As Girty proceeded in the direction of his own lodge he met Kendrick.
“Blood ahead, hey?” Kendrick said, as they met.
“Yes; to-night we take up the line of march.”
“And where are you going now?”
“To see my captive.”
“What are you going to do with the gal?”
“Make her my prey,” Girty said, and a look of savage triumph came over
his dark face as he spoke.
“That’s your vengeance, hey?”
“Yes. What wrong can rankle more keenly in the breast of General
Treveling than the knowledge that his cherished daughter is my slave,
the creature of my will?” said Girty, fiercely.
“You’re a good hater,” Kendrick said, with a grin.
“Yes, or my hate would not have lasted all these years. Why, man, I
hate this Treveling as bitterly now as I did years ago when the lashes
cut into my back. I swore once that I would have his life, but that is
poor and paltry vengeance compared to that I have heaped upon his head.
First I stole his eldest daughter--then a mere child--and left her to
perish in the forest, and now I have taken his other daughter from him.
The second blow is worse than the first, for death is far better than
the fate that is in store for Virginia.”
“I s’pose you’ll let him know in some way of what you’ve done?”
Kendrick said.
“He already knows that the death of his eldest daughter lies at my
door; knows, too, that I have carried off this one, but he does not yet
know the fate that I have marked out for her,” Girty replied.
For a moment Kendrick was silent; then he suddenly broke into a loud
laugh.
“Why do you laugh?” asked Girty, in astonishment.
“You’ve fixed this matter out all straight, hain’t you?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“S’pose a bullet from one of the settlers’ long rifles should interfere
with this hyer cunning plan, hey?”
“The bullet is not yet run that is to kill me,” rejoined Girty, sternly.
“Not afeard, hey?”
“Not a whit.”
“Got a ’big medicine?’ as the Injuns say.”
“I do not fear death; that is my ’medicine,’” Girty replied, carelessly.
“Well, I wish I was as sure of not going under as you are,” Kendrick
observed, with a grin.
“By the way, where is your daughter?” Girty asked.
“Inside the wigwam with the little gal,” Kendrick answered.
“I think I’ll visit the girl and let her know the fate that is in store
for her.”
“You’ll find my gal inside,” Kendrick said.
“I’ll be out in a few minutes; wait for me.”
Then Girty entered the wigwam that held Virginia a prisoner.
As Kendrick had said, Kate was there in attendance on the captive.
“Leave us for a little while, girl; I want to speak to the lady alone,”
Girty said.
Without a word, Kate left the wigwam.
Captor and captive were face to face.
The loathing that swelled in the heart of the girl was plainly visible
in her face as she looked upon the man who had betrayed her into the
hands of the savages.
“Do you know who I am, girl?” Girty asked.
“You are Girty, the renegade,” Virginia answered, calmly, though every
vein was throbbing with indignation.
“You are right. I am Girty, and the settlers call me the renegade.”
“Yet I can hardly believe that you are that dreadful man.”
“Why not?”
“Because you have the face of a human, and his should be the face of a
wolf.”
Girty scowled, ominously, at the words.
“Keep your tongue within bounds, or it may be the worse for you. Do you
know where you are?”
“Yes, a prisoner in your hands,” Virginia answered, with a look of
settled despair.
“Do you know what your fate is going to be?”
“Death by some dreadful torture, I suppose.”
“No, your guess is wrong; you are not fated to die yet. Were you the
captive of the Shawnees it is probable that you would die at the
torture-stake; but you are my prisoner; no red brave holds your fate in
his hands.”
“If report speaks true, I am the prisoner, then, of a man whose nature
is more cruel than that of the Indian,” said Virginia, with spirit.
“I am merciless to those that brave my anger,” retorted Girty, with a
lowering frown.
“And how have I ever wronged you?” asked Virginia, in wonder.
“You have never wronged me.”
“Why then have you torn me from home and friends?”
“You are the daughter of General Treveling?”
“Yes.”
“I hate your father. Through you I strike at him. You are dearer to him
than even life itself. A blow dealt at you also wounds him. That is the
reason why I have lured you from the settlement.” Fierce was the tone
in which Girty uttered the words, and a demon look of triumph gleamed
in his dark eyes.
Virginia listened in wonder. She had often heard her father speak of
the renegade, but always as a stranger.
“How has my father ever injured you?” she asked.
“How?” demanded Girty, in rising wrath. “The cut of his lash has
scarred my back. It happened long years ago, but the memory is as fresh
in my brain as though it were but yesterday. I swore a bitter oath of
vengeance. Years have come and gone, but at last I strike, and the blow
must reach him through you.”
“This is a manly vengeance!” exclaimed Virginia, while her lip curled
in scorn. “If my father has wronged you, why not seek him? Why select
a helpless woman as your victim? Is it because you are too cowardly to
face my father?”
“Taunt on; you will repent these words in scalding tears ere long,”
said Girty, calmly.
“They speak truth in the settlement when they say that you are like the
wolf, both cruel and cowardly.”
“And before another week is gone, they will say, too, that like the
wolf, I love blood, for I will have rivers of it!” cried Girty,
savagely.
Virginia’s heart sunk within her as she looked upon the angry face of
the renegade.
“And now your fate; can you guess what it is to be?” he asked.
“No,” Virginia answered.
“You’re to be mine--my slave. This is the vengeance that will scar your
father’s heart and make him curse the hour when he dared to wrong me!”
Triumph swelled in the voice of the renegade as he spoke.
Virginia--hapless maid--felt that she was lost indeed.
“Oh! why can I not die at once?” she murmured, in despair.
The renegade gazed upon his victim with a smile of triumph.
“First my vengeance, and then death can come to your aid as soon as
fate pleases. It will be rare joy for me to tell your father of the
shame that has come upon you. It is almost worth waiting for all these
years.”
“You are a wolf, indeed,” Virginia murmured, slowly.
“And who has made me so?” demanded the renegade, fiercely. “Your
father! His act drove me from the white cabins to the wigwams of the
savage; made me an outcast from my race; a white Indian. May the
lightning of the Eternal strike me dead if I ever forget or forgive
the injury that he has done me. Even now--after all these years--the
memory of my wrong is as fresh in my brain as though it happened but
yesterday.”
In a torrent of passion came the words from the lips of the angry man.
Virginia shuddered at his manner.
“You have no pity?” she cried.
“Pity? No!” he said, with fierce accent. “Can pity dwell in the heart
of the wolf? Your father has made me what I now am. Let him blame
himself if the wolf he has created rends his child.”
“I am entirely lost,” Virginia murmured, faintly.
“And now I go to take the war-path against the settlement--to crimson
with blood the waters of the Ohio. I will give to the flames the cabins
of the whites; the smoke of the burning dwellings shall mark my course
and attest my vengeance. When I return, then--Well, my revenge will
be made complete. Let no vain thought of escape cross your mind, for
I shall leave you doubly guarded. There is no power on this earth
that can save you from me. Prepare, then, to meet your fate with
resignation. For the present, farewell.”
Then the miscreant left the lodge.