A single glance at the dark forms that filled the doorway, and the
hearts of the three sunk within them.
They were prisoners to the Shawnees!
At the head of the painted warriors was Simon Girty, the renegade.
Girty’s eyes lit up with fiend-like joy as he gazed upon his captives.
“A keen she-devil you are, to snatch the game out of my hands; but
did you think that you could escape from me so easily?” he cried,
addressing Kate.
The warm blood flushed the face of the “Queen,” as she listened to the
insolent words of the white Indian.
“You are in my power; no human force can snatch you from me,” he
continued, exultingly. “A nice trick it was, to pretend to watch my
prisoner for me, and then aid her to escape in the darkness! But I
tracked you, though, cunning as you are. A fit daughter of a worthy
father; but, maybe, my turn will come now, Chiefs,” and he turned to
the warriors that filled the doorway, “which of you want this dainty
brown maid for a squaw? I’ll give her to one, for her fate is in my
hands now.”
All the fire in Kate’s nature shone in the lurid flash of her dark eyes.
“Take care, Simon Girty!” she cried, in anger. “If my father is not man
enough to protect me from insult, my rifle will.”
“Your father is dead, girl, or mighty near it,” returned Girty,
scornfully. “When I discovered the trick that you and he played upon
me, I sunk my tomahawk in his skull and let out his fool’s brains.”
“My father slain!” cried Kate, in horror.
“I reckon that there isn’t much life left in him by this time. He
dared to cross my will, the hound that he was, and I struck him to his
death,” said Girty, fiercely.
Kate felt that she was indeed at Girty’s mercy.
“And for you, my pretty white bird,” and the renegade turned to
Virginia as he spoke, “did you fancy that you could escape the fate
that I marked out for you? You will learn in time that my blows seldom
fail.”
“Oh, have you no mercy!” cried Virginia, in despair.
“What mercy did your father have when his lashes tore my back, long
years ago?” demanded the renegade, fiercely. “The mercy that he showed
to me I will show to him and his. I’ll tear his heart as his punishment
tore my flesh. When he learns your shameful fate, then, and not till
then, will the debt of vengeance be canceled. How he will curse his
evil fortune when he learns that his dainty daughter--the apple of his
eye, the pride of his old age--is the victim of the renegade, Simon
Girty!” and then he laughed loud and long.
“Accursed villain!” cried Winthrop, suddenly, unable to restrain
his fury; and quick as thought, he flung himself upon the renegade,
regardless of the overpowering number of foes that surrounded him.
With a single heavy blow between the eyes, he beat the renegade, like a
log, to the ground; but ere he could pursue his advantage further, the
Shawnee warriors dashed themselves upon him. Ten to one, Winthrop was
speedily overcome and securely bound.
The renegade rose to his feet, his eyes gleaming like a demon’s, and
a livid mark upon his face, where the knuckles of the young man had
bruised the skin.
“You shall pay dearly for that blow!” Girty cried, between his clenched
teeth. “You shall die at the torture-stake, a thousand deaths all in
one. The tomahawks of the Indians will cut your flesh from your bones,
even while you are a living man. You will cry aloud for death to come
to end your misery. And in your last moments the thought will come that
this fair girl--whom I guess you love--will be wholly in my power--a
helpless victim to my caprices. And as you die in lingering torments, I
will stand by your side and taunt you till death releases you from my
power.”
Words can but feebly describe the waked wrath of the renegade.
Winthrop faced him undauntedly.
“It suits your cowardly nature better to taunt a helpless prisoner than
to face a free man. I do love this girl, and the thought that she is
helpless in your power, demon that you are, gives me greater pain than
can all the fire and torture of the red devils with whom you claim
kindred. I am your captive. Look well to me; see that I do not escape
from you, for it would cost you your life if I should ever again regain
my freedom.”
Every muscle in the young man’s form swelled with indignation as he
spoke.
“When you cease to be my captive, death will claim you,” replied Girty,
grimly.
Kate looked around her. She saw no avenue of escape. She felt that they
were hopelessly lost.
“Come,” said Girty; “but first bind the wrists of these two squaws.”
The Indians obeyed his order.
“Now for your future home, the Shawnee village!” Girty cried, in
triumph.
The Indians and their prisoners, led by the renegade, passed through
the door of the cabin and stood within the little clearing that
surrounded the house.
Then forth from the timber came the Shawnee brave, Noc-a-tah.
He came straight to Girty.
“Well, chief, what is it?” asked the renegade. He conjectured from the
Indian’s manner that he was the bearer of some important tidings.
“Your white brother has gone to the land of shadows--he sends this
totem to you.” Then the Indian drew from his pocket the piece of birch
bark whereon Kendrick had, with his blood and the pointed twig, traced
his dying words.
“Dead, eh?” said Girty, with a sneer. “A totem to me? What can it be?”
Then the renegade took the piece of bark and endeavored to read the
lines.
Rudely were the letters formed, for Dave Kendrick could boast of but
little scholarship.
The renegade puzzled over the writing. Suddenly the meaning flashed
upon him. A gleam of fierce joy swept over his dark face.
“By all the fiends, this is double vengeance!” he cried in glee.
“Chief, in Chillicothe, thou shalt have the best scalping-knife that I
own, in payment for this precious totem.”
Noc-a-tah gravely nodded, and then disappeared within the thicket.
Girty turned to where the two girls stood, side by side.
The maidens wondered at his searching look.
“What a blind idiot I have been not to have noticed it before,” he
muttered, “and yet I remember, now, the face of the girl did look
familiar to me when I first saw her in the Shawnee village. To think of
my vengeance slipping through my fingers, and then, after long years,
being put again within my hands! There’s fate in this. And Kendrick,
too--he thought, by this dying declaration, to strike a blow at me,
even from the grave. He thought both the girls were safely out of
my hands. He little dreamed when I should read his ‘totem’--as the
savage termed it--that the two he referred to in it would be helpless
prisoners in my power. Could he have foreseen that, he would have cut
off his hand rather than divulge to me what he has here written.”
Then the renegade laughed long and silently. His captives wondered at
his glee.
“You risked your life to save this girl; why did you do it?” he asked
of Kate, suddenly.
“Because she was helpless in the power of a cruel monster. My heart
told me to save her, even at the risk of my own life,” replied Kate,
promptly.
“And you, girl--are you not grateful to this maiden, who has tried so
hard to save you from me?” he said to Virginia.
“Yes, I am _very_ grateful,” replied the girl, wondering at the
question.
“Their hearts don’t tell ’em,” muttered the renegade. “The old adage is
a fable; blood is _not_ thicker than water. Virginia, years ago I stole
your eldest sister, and left her to perish in the forest. This was the
first blow that I aimed at your father. Now see how strangely fate
sometimes disposes of things in this world. The child that I left to
die did not die, but was saved, and has grown to womanhood, and I all
the time thinking her dead. Girls, can’t you guess the truth? The man
that saved and reared the child was Dave Kendrick, the renegade!”
The truth flashed upon the maidens in an instant.
“Sister!” cried Virginia, warmly; but the bonds upon their wrists
forbade further greeting.
“Yes, she is your sister. Kate, you are Augusta Treveling, the eldest
daughter of the old General,” said Girty, and a triumphant smile was
upon his face.
The smile made the two girls tremble.
“The hound that I gave to the worms never told the secret to me, but,
dying, he wrote it here on this piece of bark. This was his vengeance,”
and Girty laughed loudly. “It will be pleasant news to the old General,
your father, when he hears that both of his daughters are living, and
both are in my power.”
“Oh, man, have you no mercy?” plead Kate.
“Mercy?” cried the renegade, fiercely. “Ask it of the hungry wolf, the
angry bear, or the red savage, when his knife is raised to slay! Expect
mercy from all these, but expect none from the man whose skin is white
but whose heart is red. Come; in Chillicothe you will meet your fate.”
A broad sheet of flame, springing from the woods to the north of the
little clearing, followed by the sharp report of a dozen rifles,
answered the boast of the renegade.
Of the ten savages who had followed Girty’s lead, seven lay wounded or
dead upon the earth.
From the timber came the ringing shout of the borderers, and a score
or more of the settlers, headed by General Treveling and stout Jake
Jackson, came with a rush into the clearing.
Girty, though badly wounded, and the unhurt savages, had fled at once.
Jake and fully one-half of the borderers followed in pursuit.
The captives were speedily released from their bonds.
“Let me give thanks to that Heaven that in its bounty has seen fit to
give me back both my daughters to gladden the last years of an old
man’s life!” cried Treveling, in joy, as he folded his children to his
heart.
The timely arrival of the settlers was easily explained. Noc-a-tah,
the Shawnee chief, had faithfully kept the promise made to the dying
renegade, and had first sought Point Pleasant and given the “totem”
into the hands of the General.
The father’s joy on learning that his eldest daughter lived can easily
be imagined.
Jackson, who had seen the Indian depart, instantly counseled that he
should be tracked, that the whereabouts of the rest of the Shawnees
might be discovered.
The advice of the stout Indian-fighter had been followed, and the happy
result was, the rescuing of Girty’s victims.
Well might the aged father lift up his voice in joy.