“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!”