“When you go upon the war-path do you openly tell the foe that you are coming and bid him prepare to meet you?”
“Well, no; not generally, gal,” replied the renegade, who began to have a dim perception of his daughter’s plan.
“Neither do I. Cunning is my weapon. The girl thinks me her friend. Willingly she will consent to be guided by me. By stealth we will leave the Indian village. Once within the fastness of the thicket, what will prevent me from removing my rival forever from my path?”
Kendrick gazed at his daughter in admiration.
“You’re a cute gal, by hookey; but what will Girty say when he discovers that the gal is gone?”
“What can he say, or what do I care what he says?” demanded Kate, spiritedly. “You do not owe Simon Girty many favors, father.”
“I don’t owe him any,” replied the renegade. “It’s nothing to me if the gal does get away from him. I sha’n’t worry over it.”
“I will manage it so carefully that not one in this village—be his skin white or red—will be able to trace us,” said Kate, proudly.
“I’ll back you ag’in’ the whole Shawnee nation for woodcraft,” said Kendrick, with evident pride.
“I do not think that you would have cause to regret your confidence.”