“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.”