"I more than half suspected as much, when I sometime since contemplated your low-browed, hang-dog countenance. Of course we can expect no mercy at such hands."
"Mercy!" cried Girty, turning fiercely upon him, his eyes gleaming savagely, his mouth twisting into a shape intended to express the most withering contempt, while his words fairly hissed from between his tightly set teeth: "Mercy? dog! No, by h——l! for none like you! Hark ye, Mr. Reynolds! Were you in the damnable cells of the Inquisition, accused of heresy, and about to be put to the tortures, you might think yourself in Paradise compared to what you shall yet undergo!"
As he uttered these words, Ella shrieked and fell fainting to the earth. Springing to her, Girty raised her in his arms; and pointing to her pale features, as he did so, continued:
"See! Mr. Reynolds, this girl loves you; I love her; we are rivals; and you, my rival, are in my power: and, by ——! and all the powers of darkness, you shall feel my vengeance!"
"You love her?" broke in Mrs. Younker, who, in spite of her previous dangerous warning, could hold her peace no longer: "You love her! you mean, contemptible, red headed puppy! I don't believe as how you knows enough to love nothing! And so you're Simon Girty, hey? that thar sneaking, red-coat renegade? Well, I reckon as how you've told the truth once; for I've hearn tell that he war an orful mean looking imp o' Satan; and I jest don't believe as how a meaner one nor yourself could be skeer'd up in the whole universal yarth o' creation."
"Rail on, old woman!" replied Girty, as he chafed the temples of Ella with his hands; "but in a little lower key; or I shall be under the necessity of ordering a stopper to your mouth; which, saving the tortures of the stake, is the worst punishment for you I can now invent. As for you, Mr. Younker," continued he, turning his face to the old man, with a peculiar expression; "you seem to have nothing to say to an old friend—ha, ha, ha!"
"Whensomever I mention the name o' Simon Girty," replied Younker, in a deliberate and startlingly solemn tone, "I al'ays call down God's curse upon the fiendish renegade—and I do so now."
"By ——! old man," cried Girty, casting Ella roughly from him, and starting upright, the perfect picture of a fiend in human shape; "another word, and your brains shall be scattered to the four winds of heaven!"
As he spoke, he brandished his tomahawk over the other's head; while the child, before noticed, uttered a wild scream, and sprung to Mrs. Younker, at whose side she crouched in absolute terror.
"Strike!" answered Younker, mildly, with an unchanged countenance, his eye resting steadily upon the other, who could not meet his gaze in the same manner. "Strike! Simon Girty; for I'm a man that's never feared death, and don't now; besides, I reiterate all I've said, and with my dying breath pray God to curse ye!"