"I hate that man with all my heart," the new comer cried, addressing the Indians as he pointed to the renegade, surprised with the rest. "I wouldn't spare his life but for a little while. He knows something which I must know; then my red brother's rifle may send the bullet to his heart."

Girty looked, stared into the speaker's face.

"Who are you?" he asked before the Indian could reply.

"My name is Catlett."

"A spy of Wayne's?"

"Yes."

The savages exchanged looks, and Parquatoc spoke:

"The Blacksnake's spy has no right to step between Parquatoc and his captive," he said.

"No!" hissed the Shawnee.

"Stand aside!" continued the Seneca, menacingly.

But Harvey Catlett did not stir.

The Indians advanced upon him.

"Hold!" cried Oscar Parton. "He will join us! He will wear the mark which you gave me."

"No white spy shall wear it!" was the reply.

Face to face with the two savages stood Wayne's young scout, composed and unyielding. He intended to kill the first savage who raised a hand against him.

But all at once James Girty moved from the wall. With one of his powerful bounds, he hurled himself upon the spy, whom he sent reeling against Parquatoc, and the next moment he was running for life through the forest.

It was in vain that Oscar Parton and the Shawnee, the first to recover, tried to cover him with their rifles. The renegade was fleet of foot, and a yell announced his escape and future revenge.

James Girty was at large again, but captiveless; for Kate Merriweather had fallen into hands that would not desert her.

Harvey Catlett turned to the Indians when he had recovered his equilibrium. He told then why he wished to spare Girty's life--for the secret of Little Moccasin's parentage--and when he had finished, Parquatoc said:

"The Blacksnake's spy must join us. All who hate the White Whirlwind must wear the mark."

At Oscar's solicitation the young spy consented, and Parquatoc's knife cut the sign of the banded brotherhood on his breast.

"Back to the white people with their child!" the Seneca said. "The big fight is coming on."

They parted there--red and white--and Kate once more turned her face toward her relatives.

CHAPTER XV.

THE FOREST WHIPPING POST.

The Merriweather family did not make rapid progress toward Wayne after Kate's abduction. A gloom had settled over the little band of fugitives, and they desired to remain near the spot which had been so fatal to one of their number.

A degree of safety returned with Wolf Cap's accession to their numbers, and the tall borderman did not cease to a.s.sure them that Harvey Catlett was an experienced scout. He firmly believed that he would restore Kate to their arms, and this quieted the parents and made them feel hopeful.

"Think of my loss," the hunter would say, when the parents murmured at the theft of their child. "Think of a man coming home and finding his cabin in ashes, and the bones of his family among them. I had one of the best wives in the world, and a little girl who was just beginning to call me 'papa.'"

"You have had revenge?" said Abel Merriweather.

"Ask the woods, the streams, and the Indian villages that lie between the Ohio and the Maumee if I have not glutted my thirst for vengeance.

But it has not restored my family. I have killed, but the blows that I have dealt did not give back my child's kiss, my wife's embrace. No; there is no satisfaction in vengeance. Man ought to leave his wrongs to G.o.d, who punishes the guilty in the end."

Thus Wolf Cap often talked to Abel Merriweather and his family, and afterward he would relapse into a silence from which no one attempted to draw him. He would stand for hours in a reverie like a harmless lunatic, and more than once the sun which found him in this state at the meridian, saw him there at its setting.

He was the guide. Every foot of the Maumee wood was known to him, and with his eye turned to the west, he slowly but surely led the fugitives in the direction of Wayne's camp.

The sun was creeping zenithward one warm morning, when a boat left the northern sh.o.r.e of the Maumee and pushed out into the stream. Its single occupant was a girlish person whose face was very lovely, and whose browned hands seemed accustomed to the use of paddles.

She steered for the opposite bank, and despite the rapids, which threatened at times to capsize the frail craft, she reached her destination. With an agile bound she sprang upon sh.o.r.e, and made the canoe fast to a clump of bushes. Then she took a rifle from the bottom of the boat, and looked into the forest that trended to the bank which she had gained.

It was Little Moccasin.

After satisfying herself that no person had observed her movements, she moved from the sh.o.r.e; but a minute later the clicking of gun locks brought her to a halt, and she heard a voice that startled her.

"Don't lift your gun, or we'll drop you in your tracks."

Then the girl saw the speaker, for he had slipped from behind a tree, and beside him stood a companion.

With a cry of recognition which made Little Moccasin's eyes sparkle with delight, she started toward the twain, whose faces were darkened by scowls.

"Areotha is glad to meet her brothers," she said. "Fair Face has sent her----"

"No fixed up story!" interrupted one of the whites, who was Carl Merriweather; his companion was George Darling.

"We won't listen to you," said the latter. "We've seen enough of your sleek-tongued treachery, and by Jove, we're going to put an end to it."

The girl's face grew pale.

"Will the white men listen to Areotha?"

"No; and beside, we wouldn't believe you if we did!" said Carl. "Of course you were in league with that rascally guide, and he stole my sister. Do you know what we ought to do with you? Why, we would be serving you right if we whipped you to death right here. G.o.d knows how many boats of our people you have decoyed into the hands of the Indians.

A female renegade is the meanest thing on earth."

"Areotha will talk," said the girl, who had waited with impatience for the young Hotspur to finish. "The hot-headed young men may shut their ears; but the Manitou will listen. He never turns away from the sound of his people's voice."

"Go on, then," said Darling. "Spit out the pretty story you have cooked up."