“Take care, Simon Girty!” she cried, in anger. “If my father is not man enough to protect me from insult, my rifle will.”
“Your father is dead, girl, or mighty near it,” returned Girty, scornfully. “When I discovered the trick that you and he played upon me, I sunk my tomahawk in his skull and let out his fool’s brains.”
“My father slain!” cried Kate, in horror.
“I reckon that there isn’t much life left in him by this time. He dared to cross my will, the hound that he was, and I struck him to his death,” said Girty, fiercely.
Kate felt that she was indeed at Girty’s mercy.
“And for you, my pretty white bird,” and the renegade turned to Virginia as he spoke, “did you fancy that you could escape the fate that I marked out for you? You will learn in time that my blows seldom fail.”
“Oh, have you no mercy!” cried Virginia, in despair.
“What mercy did your father have when his lashes tore my back, long years ago?” demanded the renegade, fiercely. “The mercy that he showed to me I will show to him and his. I’ll tear his heart as his punishment tore my flesh. When he learns your shameful fate, then, and not till then, will the debt of vengeance be canceled. How he will curse his evil fortune when he learns that his dainty daughter—the apple of his eye, the pride of his old age—is the victim of the renegade, Simon Girty!” and then he laughed loud and long.
“Accursed villain!” cried Winthrop, suddenly, unable to restrain his fury; and quick as thought, he flung himself upon the renegade, regardless of the overpowering number of foes that surrounded him.
With a single heavy blow between the eyes, he beat the renegade, like a log, to the ground; but ere he could pursue his advantage further, the Shawnee warriors dashed themselves upon him. Ten to one, Winthrop was speedily overcome and securely bound.