A moment later, he sprung into the glare of the six council-fires.
His presence, entirely unexpected at that hour—though none could divine the purport of his absence—was greeted with shouts, and some of the delegates whom he had known, in past and bloody days, sprung forward to welcome his return.
But he waved them back imperiously, and sprung to the large mat in the center of the structure, from which the chiefs were wont to deliver their outbursts of Indian eloquence.
A murmur ran around the circle, and as the renegade glanced at Simon and the group of British emissaries to his left, he shouted:
“Silence!”
Instantly every sound was hushed.
“I come to gladden the hearts of the assembled chiefs with good news!” he continued. “I am just from the banks of the Nomee,[2] where my hands closed upon the bitterest enemy the red-man possesses.”
Every head was shot forward to hear the name of the renegade’s captive.
“He’s caught one of Mad Ant’ony’s spies—perhaps Wells?” whispered Simon Girty to McKee. “It’ll be a jolly time for the red devils.”
“I saw my captive send a bullet to the heart of Jaguar-tail,” continued Joe Girty, after a moment’s pause. “I saw her stoop to mark his bloody brow—and then—then she became mine.”