The renegade did not perceive his adopted son, though he might have touched him with his outstretched hand, and Kenowatha immediately rose and glided after him.
Through a crevice in the cabin the white Indian witnessed the scene between the renegade and his wife, and resolved to free the beautiful terror of the red-men, though he lost his life in the action.
For many months he had roamed the forest, hoping to meet the young She-wolf—not to send a bullet to her heart and thus rid his tribe of their pest; but to unite his life with hers—to fly to the white settlements, forgetting the wildwood and its bloody scenes. But she had successfully eluded him, though at times he had reached the bodies of her victims, while the blood still flowed from the dreaded crescent mark.
But now they were to meet under truly thrilling circumstances.
Kenowatha waited until Joe Girty’s steps died away toward the council-house, then he rose and entered the cabin.
Loosa started up with cocked pistol; but when she saw who had entered she smiled, and pointed to Nanette Froisart, whose eyes were fixed upon the white Indian.
“Why did Kenowatha leave the council?” she asked.
“The big pain has entered his head,” answered Kenowatha, ruefully, putting both hands to his head. “He will return to the council soon; but first he must rest. May he lie upon the couch beside the young She-wolf?”
“No!” thundered Loosa, who was just drunk enough to arouse the angry and suspicious part of her nature. “The White Fox would cut the She-wolf’s bonds, and then the White Ottawa would tear Loosa’s tongue from her head. Go back to the council!”
The mad squaw’s quivering finger pointed to the half-open door; but instead of obeying the command, Kenowatha shot forward like a ball, and Loosa rolled upon the floor. Before she could recover, Kenowatha’s knife severed Nanette Froisart’s bonds, and with a cry of astonishment, at the unexpected action, the Girl Avenger bounded to her feet.