Then a thought flushed suddenly across his mind. With a sudden spring he leaped to his feet.
“By all the imps below, I never thought of that before!” he cried, excitedly. “Shall I foller and stop ’em?” and he took a few steps toward the wood, as if to execute the purpose. “But no, why should I?” and he halted. “One don’t know it, and the other don’t either. It can’t be a crime if she don’t know what she’s doing in killing this gal.” And then another thought came into his mind. The dull-witted renegade was getting strangely bright.
“The gal has fooled me! I remember now that she once told me that Miss Treveling was the only woman in the world that had ever spoken a kind word to her, and that she would willingly lay down her life for her sake. The truth on’t is, that she has sneaked the gal out of our hands to save her. The lover story was all moonshine. Wal, let the gal do it, if she kin. She little knows what she is doing when she saves this she-critter.”
Then the renegade resumed his place by the lodge.
In a short time the Shawnee returned with the gourd bottle of whisky.
It only took a few minutes for the renegade and the chief to empty the gourd.
Hardly had they finished the whisky when from the darkness came Girty.
Girty said but a few words to the two and then entered the lodge.
“There’ll be a hurricane ’fore long,” muttered Kendrick.
The renegade was right, for Girty rushed from the wigwam, furious as the panther cheated of its prey.